APNA APNA SUCH (NOVEL) BY DEEPAK BUDKI; REVIEWED BY DR SAIFI SIRONJI

 

Letter from famous Urdu Novelist Abdus Samad reviewing my Novel, Azadi.

Letter from famous Urdu Novelist Abdus Samad reviewing my Novel, Azadi.

 

Pandit Sham Lal Saraf - A Gandhian & A Freedom Fighter

Pandit Sham Lal Saraf

 - A Gandhian and a Freedom Fighter

I knew him very closely. He was my uncle, married to my father's sister, to be precise. He was simple, clean and tidy, modest, unpretentious, had strict principles and was a true Gandhian. He was reserved and unrevealing about his accomplishments. Though an introvert he still managed to be in politics and public life. Had I not seen him I would not have believed that a person called Mahatma Gandhi, whose disciple he was, ever lived and walked on this earth. 

Sham Lal Saraf was born on July 4, 1904, in Rainawari, Srinagar (Kashmir) in a Kashmiri Pandit family with the surname 'Tikoos' though they were generally known as  'Sarafs'. Maybe some of his ancestors worked as goldsmiths. The family observed the festival 'Tike Tchorum' which showed their belonging to Tikoos originally. His father's name was Pandit Sansar Chand Saraf who as I learnt was a strict disciplinarian.  

Saraf Sahab was educated at the famous CMS High School, Srinagar known for quality education, sports and character building. He participated in sports and was a member of the school hockey team besides cultural activities. On completion of his schooling, he graduated from S P College, Srinagar. Thereafter, he plunged into business and owned two shops of Kashmir handicrafts bearing the name 'Sudesh Arts & Crafts', one situated on the Bund over the bank of river Jhelum, next to Shaw Bros, and the other in the Central Market (Shop No 115). My father also joined him in his business later on.  Once Saraf Sahab joined the freedom movement of the state called the 'Quit Kashmir Movement', he handed over both the shops to my father who managed them single-handedly up to 1962 when he too sold them, One of the Bund changed the signboard to 'Ganymede' (See picture below) and the other was thereafter called as 'Desh Arts & Crafts'. Despite giving up his studies after B A, he kept in touch with books and current affairs all his life. In 1968 when I was preparing for my graduation, he dictated two essays to me titled, 'Students Unrest in India' and 'Arab Israel War' that opened my eyes to the depth of his knowledge on the subjects. I was fortunate to use both in my final examination because students were asked to appear in the English paper again as some students had gone on strike in the first one.  

Sham Lal Saraf was married on March 20, 1923, to Tarashwari Budki (Gunwati Saraf after marriage) who was the daughter of Pt Ram Chand Budki residing at Krala Teng, S R Gunj, Srinagar. She was a humble, devoted, pious and highly spiritual lady who did not eat non-vegetarian food from the very childhood though she cooked tons of meat and fish for her husband, family and guests all her life. Despite getting married to a person who later became a State Cabinet Minister and Member of Parliament, she never changed her lifestyle nor participated in official dinners and banquets. She was a devotee of Lord Shiva and had a dedicated puja room in her house, called 'Thokur Kuth' in Kashmiri, where she would sit for many hours performing puja. She had no ego, no pride and no self-conceit. Gunwati bore him more than a dozen children but only one daughter, Sudesh Saraf survived. Sudesh became a lecturer at Women's College, Srinagar after her post-graduation in Hindi and was married to K L Zutshi, an engineer by profession. Unfortunately, Sudesh left for her heavenly abode a few years ago.  

Pt Sham Lal Saraf initially became a member of a Kashmiri Pandit organization called Yuvak Sabha which later merged with J&K National Conference. The latter got associated with the National Movement of Congress before 1930. Other members of the organisation were Jia Lal Kilam, P N Bazaz, and Kashyap Bandhu. He was a signatory of the National Demands Document presented to the then Maharaja demanding inter alia freedom of speech, adult franchise, self-governance and reservation of vacancies for the state subjects. He became a member of the J&K Constituent Assembly in 1951 proclaimed by the then Sadre Riyasat J&K.

Saraf Sahab was a Member of the State legislature, from September 1951 to April 7, 1962, and was later nominated as a Member of Parliament 3rd Lok Sabha for the next 5 years by the President of India. He served as a Cabinet Minister in the State of J&K from 1947 to April 1962. His first assignment was as Minister of Tourism and Education. Besides, he was a member of several associations and societies interested in social, cultural educational and religious movements. He travelled widely and visited Sri Lanka, the USSR, Britain, Italy, France, Germany, Switzerland, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Yugoslavia, Poland and Sweden. 

                                        (Meeting with Turkish press delegation in March 1952)

In 1953 he got embroiled in a confrontation with his mentor and leader Sheikh Mohd Abdullah who had delivered the notorious secessionist Ranbir Singh Pora speech as a consequence of which his cabinet planned his ouster. As a retaliation, Sheikh Abdullah tried to dismiss him from the cabinet and even planned to put him behind bars but before he could execute his plans, Sheikh Abdullah himself was ousted as Prime Minister of J&K in 1953 and Bakshi Ghulam Mohd took over the charge instead. Allegations levelled against Saraf Sahab were that his brother-in-law (Sala), who was serving in the Jail Department, had stolen a clock from Saraf's office which was recovered from his car. This is documented in his autobiography 'Atish-e-Chinar' written by a ghostwriter, M Y Taing. Unfortunately, the writer had not verified the facts. Saraf Sahab had only one brother-in-law and that was my father who was a shopkeeper and till 1962 had never worked in any government office.  Moreover, the truth about allegations of corruption can be gauged by comparing the assets left by Sheikh Abdullah and all other Ministers during Sheikh's and Bakshi's regimes vis-a-vis what was left by Sham Lal Saraf. He possessed just one incomplete three-story building in Gugji Bagh, Srinagar and that too was built after he demitted his office. In this regard, I asked him once, "Hindus don't credit you with the ouster of Sheikh Sahab saying it was Bakshi who did it while Muslims blame you entirely for dethroning him? So you get no credit whatsoever." He replied, "My direct confrontation could have taken a communal colour and my community would have to bear the brunt of it if I had openly come out against Sheikh Sahab on that occasion. In fact, I preferred to lay low for a long time and even refused to join the new cabinet of Bakshi Sahab for many days to avoid public gaze."    

As has been written earlier, Pt Sham Lal Saraf was a member of the Cabinet of Sheikh Abdullah from 1947 to 1953 and later Bakshi Ghulam Mohammed from 1953 onwards to 1962. In the photo on the right, he can be seen taking the oath of Office as Minister in Bakshi's Cabinet. The oath was administered by the then Sadre Riyasat, Dr Karan Singh. He acquitted himself with unparalleled integrity and industry. He was a stickler for principles and I always thought he could have been more successful as a bureaucrat than a politician. This trait of his made him unpopular among the public, especially the Kashmiri Pandits, who approached him to bestow them with undue favours but he did not oblige them. Examples of this could be seen that his own daughter was neither a doctor nor an engineer and he could not manage a medical seat for me or my sister though he was in power at that time. On my asking that Muslim students with far lesser marks got the seats, he replied, "For a Muslim of Kashmir, who doesn't feel integrated with the country due to indoctrination since 1953, India is from Uri to Qazigund while for you India spans from Kashmir to Kanya Kumari. If I don't give him preference in education and employment in J&K and bottle him up, he will surely break that bottle upon my head one day." How prophetic! Subversive forces used this very plank in the 1990s to incite young Kashmiris to take up the gun. I appreciated his viewpoint and in fact, it changed the course of my life. He too acknowledged it before his wife saying, "This fellow never turned his back to seek help. Whatever he has achieved is all on his own."  

Saraf Sahab was a true nationalist. He stood his ground in 1953, and later, on 11 September 1964 he despite being a member of J&K Congress supported a bill introduced by an independent Member of Parliament, Prakash Vir Shastri demanding the removal of Article 370 from the Constitution. During the debate, he said:

"In these 17 years, our state has suffered by not having been brought at par with the rest of the states in the country. Our people have suffered. Everybody has suffered. Let the people have the proper benefit of what flows from the Centre to other states. As it is, people suffer in a number of ways, for instance, in getting scholarships, getting seats in colleges and universities in other places etc. Not only that, there is the non-application of labour laws."

Saraf Sahab also highlighted what he said was the plight of the working classes in the state then: 

"In my state, there are lakhs of people working in various forests, handicrafts and factories, and all the beneficial laws that we have in the Centre, and which are applicable to the rest of the states, they are not benefitted by them. I know the feelings of workers in that State. Every time they say: why do you keep this wall of separation, let us also get the benefits as the rest of our countrymen." 

It was my good fortune to know him personally and watch his behaviour closely. He was very serious and did not indulge in loose talk. He was a true Gandhian and held Nehru in great esteem. I never heard him speak ill against anyone behind his back not even Sheikh Sahab despite the great betrayal by the latter. He would often tell me not to be so facetious and take life seriously. He had a high moral standard which often touched spiritual realms. Notwithstanding the climatic conditions, he would get up early in the morning, take bath and do some routine yoga exercises, then read Gita, Ramayana and Jap ji every day. He would constantly emphasize that a person has three facets of his personality i.e Physical, Mental and Spiritual and one must nurture them all. On this, I would often disagree with him. I used to argue that a person cannot achieve excellence in one field if he lays equal emphasis on all three, for example, if he wants to become a Dara Singh he has to ignore the other two aspects except the physical aspect, if he wants to become a Buddha he cannot afford to develop the physical side and in case he wants to emulate Shakespeare, he has to ignore the physical and spiritual faculties. The issue, however, remained unresolved. 

Saraf Sahab left his mortal remains on 26 July 1983. May his soul rest in peace. Om Shanti.

                        (With Sadre Riyasat Dr Karan Singh & Foreign dignitaries. Mir Qasim, Sadiq,

                         GLDogra & Bakshi can also be seen)

I must confess that whatever I achieved in my life was all because of his teachings that guided me to lead an honest and to some extent principled life though I could not match him. I am reminded of a couplet of Allama Iqbal:

                  Hazaron   saal   Nargis    apni   be - noori    pe   roti   hai,

                Badi mushkil se hota hai chaman mein deeda-var paida. 

*****

 

Vyoog; व्यूग ; Hindi Short Story; हिंदी कहानी

Vyoog; व्यूग 

Hindi Short Story; हिंदी कहानी 

Ek Nihate Makan Ka Rape; एक निहत्थे मकान का रेप ; Hindi Short Story; हिंदी कहानी

 Ek Nihate Makan Ka Rape;

एक निहत्थे मकान का रेप 

 Hindi Short Story; हिंदी कहानी 

My Grandfather-Some Recollections:(English); Author: Deepak Budki

 

My Grandfather-Some Recollections:(English) Author: Deepak Budki  

My grandfather, Pandit Neel Kanth Nehru, my mother’s father to be precise, lived a life of an ascetic and a true bhakt of the Supreme Goddess, Ma Sharika whose abode is in Chakreshwar temple, Hari Parbat, Srinagar, Kashmir. Right from his childhood he was devoted to the Mother Goddess and often walked the distance of 5-6 kms from his residence in Chandapora, near Gadood Bagh, Habbakadal to the temple of the Hari Parbat, the most venerated place in the city. This distance was beside appx 2-3 hundred steps to be climbed to reach the temple and the Parikrama (appx 2-3 km) to be performed around the hill after performing pooja in the temple. He had inherited devotion to Mata Sharika from his father Lal Chand Nehru who took him to the temple at the age of 11. In his later life he shifted to Sanat Nagar from where his visits were occasional.

The legend behind the formation of Hari Parbat is available in the history texts of Kashmir. It was formed by a Mynah (Haer in Kashmiri) which threw a stone carried in her beak in the great Satisar lake, hence the name Hari Parbat, the hill made by the Mynah. During the Mughal period, a fortress was constructed on the hilltop with a surrounding wall around the hill in order to defend the city from external aggression. A few gates were provided in the wall to suit the direction of marching troops. The Chakreshwar temple is below the summit of the hill yet there are numerous steps to be climbed to reach the actual temple. Pt Neel Kanth Nehru even in his nineties would climb these stairs without any external assistance. Except for a few years when he had to reside in Baramulla due transfer of his son, he would regularly visit the temple, especially on Saturdays. On the intervening nights of Saturday-Sunday, he would attend the temple and stay awake organizing pooja and bhajans in the adjoining hall of Chakreshwar Mandir. He himself had an impressive and resonant voice and would often recite mantras and sing bhajans during the night. We used to hear his devotional songs at our residence about 3-4 km away from the foothills and my mother used to say, “Tatha Ji (His pet name) has come to the temple”. At times while on his way back to his house, he visited our house at Maharaj Ganj.

Pt Neel Kanth was a member of the Chakreshwar temple trust and worked as its President for a number of years. His grandson, Sanatan Nehru specifically says the period was about 60 years. It was due to his efforts that a beautiful white marble Mandir was constructed on the top of the Sharika Devi. Mata Sharika had appeared in a dream to him while he was fast asleep in Pokhribal temple at the foothills of Hari Parbat and questioned him as to why she did not have a cover overhead and proper stairs up to her abode. I am told by my cousin, Sanatan Nehru that it was on his instance that the festival, Zang Tri, was organized every year, and all married ladies used to carry the Zang (Salt) to their in-laws house as a good omen. This was particularly reassuring for those who did not have anyone living in the parental home. 

He once shared his experience of 1947 when Pakistan Tribals (Qabailies) had invaded Kashmir and reached Baramulla besides indulging in loot and rape. He visited Hari Parbat early in the morning as usual and saw Mata Sharika Devi on a lion moving from her abode towards the north of Kashmir ie Baramulla. He asked her, "Mata, what are you up to?" She replied," Some miscreants have invaded this Reshwaer (the land of Rishis) and I am proceeding to halt and clean them up (The word used was SAMHAR) before they reach Srinagar. As per him the next day i.e 27th October 1947 the Indian troops landed in Srinagar by air and the advance of the tribals was halted and reversed.

Nehru Sahab had knowledge of Persian, Urdu, Kashmiri and English and was working in the State revenue department. He had a very good knowledge of astrology and would often read the horoscopes of people. It is said that he had foretold the death of his only daughter and elder son long before they actually died. He was revered as a spiritual seer by most of Kashmiri Pandits but he never used his position for any personal gain or derive any service from any of his followers. He once confided in me that he did not allow women to touch his body under any pretext. My Mama Ji used to often tell an anecdote about his father. He once asked his father, "Tatha Ji, how is it that you take dinner at 9 pm and go off to sleep without any delay and you are up and awake in the morning at 6 am?" His father answered, "Dear, you keep reading too many books and I suppose must have read hundreds of books which give you sleepless nights because you get confused by different ideas put forward by different authors. On the contrary, I have read just one book, The Bhagavad Gita all my life without attempting to understand the meaning of the same fully, not to speak of the philosophy contained therein. So I am not at all confused like you. That is the secret of my getting sleep comfortably." Moral: This is the spirit of Bhakti Marga, Ignorance is bliss, and faith in the Almighty is supreme.

Neel Kanth Nehru was well built and had a charming and glowing face till his last breath. He lived a simple life and used to wear a long smock, called 'Pheran' in Kashmir throughout the year. He used to smoke a Huqqah and did not like cigarettes. He would never recline with any wall or pillow while sitting or smoking Hubble-bubble and would often scold me for adopting a reclining posture. He remained active all through his life. Nehru Sahab lived a family life till his last breath but was totally detached a person. He had three sons, Shambu Nath, Jawahar Kaul, and Makhan Lal besides a daughter, Kamala. Late Shambu Nath had sought employment in Delhi as a School teacher and settled there permanently. He died prematurely at the age of 50 when he was likely to be promoted as Director in the Education Deptt in Delhi. Late Jawahar Kaul (originally his name was Janki Nath Nehru as I had learned but I am not sure) was his second son who had been given by Nehru Sahab to his friend, Mr. T Kaul, for adoption since he himself was a knowledgeable astrologer and found the course of adoption as a way to ward off evils of destiny to the boy and the parental family. Surprisingly, Jawahar Kaul made it to Bollywood and not only acted in several films like Kathputli, Dekh Kabira Roya, Daag, Bhabi, Ek Shola, Adalat, Sahib Bibi aur Ghulam, Pehli Jhalak, Sheesh Mahal, etc. He also produced the film, Agni Putra. His daughter, Shabnam Kapoor, and son-in-law, Lalit Kapoor also produce films. His son, Ajay Kaul is a social worker and an educationist who runs his own school/College in Versova, Mumbai. A road has been named in honor of his wife, Clara J T Kaul in Versova itself. The third son was Late Makhan Lal who was serving in State Forest Department, he was married to Uma Nehru, a State Best Teacher awardee in 1980, and left behind a son, Sanatan Nehru working in Mumbai and a daughter, Sushma Nehru alias Simran Maehar who is working in health services in Sydney, Australia. Kamla Nehru, Pt Neel Kanth Nehru’s daughter got married to Radha Krishen Budki, my father, and acquired the name Somawati Budki. She bore four children.

Pt Neel Kanth faced several tragedies in his life, the accidental death of his wife, Lilawati, about 25 years before he himself attained nirvana, the death of his daughter at the age of 40, and the death of his elder son at the age of around 50. But Neel Kanth had unflinching faith in Goddess Sharika, he took all such happenings in his stride besides overcoming the grief due to the said misfortunes. He attained his moksha at the age of 94 as far after a short stint of illness. All my life I had never seen him falling ill or going to a doctor. For minor ailments, if any, he would use indigenous methods of cure.

It was my fortune to have a grandfather with such spiritual power and devotion to the almighty yet unassuming and down to earth. May his soul rest in peace.

                                                     ******

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Raven's Full Moon[Kaaw Punim]: (English); Short Story; Author: DeepakBudki; Translator; Jawahar Lal Bhat.

Raven's Full Moon: (English)

 Short Story; Author: DeepakBudki

 Translator; Jawahar Lal Bhat

Kailash Pandit was feeling deeply agitated and mentally anguished as a result of recalling an event of his childhood. He was eager to relate to his grandson. It is usual with an old man that he desires somebody to sit by his side, regard him as a member of the family, and listens to him attentively. Continuous isolation from near and dear ones at this age is most sickening to the old. It results in many ailments of the head and heart and drowns him in the abyss of depression.

He called his grandson Sunny.

The repository of experience in him was overflowing with eagerness to bring forth the tales of happiness and sorrow. More than a hundred tales of human barbarity, moral degradation, and human ruination were still in his psyche and hence ready to burst out.

Sunny came running and like a very obedient child sat cross-legged before him ready to listen!

Kailash Pandit mentally traveled back into his past trying to reach his roots and recollect his distant childhood. Soon he was lost in the cool romantic ambience of the land of his birth which he had left regrettably about twenty-five years ago. Now after a while his oral communication seemed to restore and he commenced the story of his life.

Those were wintry days. I had crossed the fifteenth year of my life. One day I woke up in the morning to find a strange hustle and bustle in our house. Preparations were on for observing a fast on that day. I asked my father if it was any festival on that day. He replied, “Yes son, it is ‘Kaaw Punim’, the ‘Raven’s Full Moon’, today.”

I replied in astonishment, "‘Raven’s Full Moon’! What does it signify?"

“It is really interesting to know about ravens. Every year during this period thousands of migratory ravens come to Kashmir valley after flying thousands of miles from Siberia and other polar regions of the north. In order to welcome them we, the Pandits of Kashmir, celebrate 'Kaaw Punim' or what you call ‘Raven’s Full Moon’ in English. If you just lookout, you can see these jet-black birds everywhere in large numbers ---- on trees, walls, housetops, almost everywhere. "

My curiosity was stirred up enormously by my father’s revelation. Crows are ordinarily seen in Kashmir in all seasons including winter but their colour is greyish-black with a white ring around their neck. However, these ravens are different. They are big in size and as black as charcoal from beak to tail. The voice of local crows is slightly heavier and hoarser than the ravens. During the hot season, these migratory ravens make their habitats near and around the North Pole but in winter they fly out of the inhospitable area because of extreme cold and lack of food. They move out in large flocks to temperate areas far away from the polar region.

After hearing about this interesting festival of Kashmir Pandits I could understand how the demands of belly compel not only human beings but birds as well to migrate from places of scarcity to places of abundance. These birds fly thousands of kilometres over hills and deserts, oceans and forests seeking better conditions for their sustenance.

Probably we would not have paid heed to them if our ancestors had not observed these black-winged creatures flying into our valley from distant lands at this particular time of the year. Otherwise, crows are just crows, whether they are greyish-black with white rings around their necks or jet-black. The inquisitiveness of our ancestors has crowned them with success long ago in getting information about these migratory birds who are forced to travel exceptionally long distances on their tiny wings year after year in search of food. They probably kept waiting for them eagerly generation after generation till they decided to dedicate a festive day to the little winged migratory angels. It is the day celebrated with joy to mark the arrival of these ravens in the beautiful valley of Kashmir.  It is just like various other days that are celebrated now globally---- Valentine's Day, Father’s Day, Mother’s Day, Teacher’s Day and so on!

In spite of the severe cold, my mother got up early in the morning and busied herself in cleaning the house thoroughly. All pots and pans in the kitchen were cleaned once more. Looking at my parents, I too decided to observe fast for the first time in my life on this day and as a result, my mother was seriously worried about me throughout the day. She fed me frequently with various types of fruit and freshly fried fritters made of water chestnut floor permitted during such fasts.

Later in the afternoon just before lunch, Father ceremoniously spread out food for the ravens with the expectation they will relish it. Two sticks, one long and the other short were placed upon each other at right angles in such a way as to form a cross-like object and they were tied together with long stalks obtained from straw bundles leftover from paddy which are available in abundance in Kashmir. The straw was woven around the junction of two sticks in such a manner as to make a platter for placing boiled rice and cooked vegetables over it. After placing cooked food on the platter the long stick was fixed to one of the beams of the roof in such a way that it was visible to the birds hovering in the sky. Then my father, in order to call them out, began singing a song in Kashmiri with the purpose of inviting these migratory ravens to have their favourite dish spread out for them on the cross which now looked like a gnat plane.

“Oh, you crow, the Brahmin crow,

Crow that enjoys the medley,

Both of you, the male and the female,

Take a bath in the sacred Gangabal Lake,

Put a Tilak of clay on thy forehead,

And come to the house, newly built by us,

To partake rice and vegetables cooked in oil”

All of us stood watching the father. We also joined him in singing the song aloud. Instantly dozens of black ravens appeared from nowhere and flew over the platter on which was placed the cooked rice. They hovered over it, sometimes darted straight on it and fought amongst each other many a time.  Each of them wanted to replace the other in order to consume the food himself. It was really a treat to watch them and every one of us cherished it.

Time marched on and winter was about to come to an end. In the middle of March, when Shivratri, the cherished festival of Kashmiri Pandits, was around the corner, the cold was almost over and the spring was beginning to set in the valley of Kashmir. Daffodils and Narcissi had bloomed everywhere. Even willow inflorescences could be seen. But no ravens were seen anywhere. They had returned to their icy abodes covering thousands of kilometres yet again. I often thought to myself, "Nature has played very cruelly on them. They have to travel such long distances every year in search of food and survival. Why do they not stay at a place like other crows? Has migration become their destiny?" I pitied them and perhaps our ancestors too had shown empathy towards these black little creatures, so they had started this custom of feeding them once every year on this particular day.

When Kailash Pandit finished his story, the grandson asked him a question, “Grandpa, why don't human beings also change their residence like these ravens to escape extremes of heat or cold?”

“Human beings are homeothermic. Warm-blooded animals usually maintain their body temperatures slightly above the environment, so they need not shift places with the change of seasons. However, due to lack of fur, they take help of other things like warm clothing or heating appliances.”

“Then why do politicians, bureaucrats and the rich shift to Jammu in winters and return to Kashmir in summers?” The grandson poked the question.

“These are aristocratic idiosyncrasies. The British and the Indian Rulers had developed places like Kashmir, Shimla, Mussoorie, Nainital and Darjeeling for their pleasure and enjoyment in the hills. They shifted to these places to save themselves from the heat of the plains and returned to their homes in winter. The poor couldn't afford such luxury, so had to remain contented with a single place all the year-round.”

“It means human beings need not migrate from one place to another?” Sunny asked with an air of innocence and curiosity in his tone.

“That’s not the case, my son. He too is compelled to change places for filling his stomach, earn his livelihood, the safety of himself and his family, fear of belonging to a particular race, religion or caste and many more such things. It is in his blood. Thousands of people shift residences and flock to cities and metros from their villages in order to earn a living. A large number of poor farmers are seasonal migrants, who go to cities to work, and return to their farms only during the seasons of sowing and harvesting. Natural calamities like floods, earthquakes, droughts and wars also compel people to move out from their places of residence temporarily or permanently. Many a time they settle down at their new places and do not return. Armed conflicts, intrigues, desire to take control of enemy territories, religious extremism and greed for natural resources also become a cause for the displacement of people from one place to another. At times some people engage themselves in criminal activities never thought of before and those who get affected run away to safety.”

“My dear, twenty-five years ago, we too had to leave our home and hearth in Kashmir because some religious fanatics created an atmosphere of hatred and insecurity for us. Many members of our community were killed in cold blood. Since we were a minuscule minority and unable to face the brunt of the onslaught so we had no choice but to seek refuge outside the valley in safer areas. In a matter of days almost the total population of Kashmiri Pandits comprising some three to four lakh souls, who were dispersed in the valley, ran away and settled in plains wherever they could find shelter to lay their heads down. It was totally a new world for us. No cold winters here, no snow-clad mountains, no mighty chinars and no flocks of ravens to feed on the ‘raven’s full moon’. But we kept our traditions alive. Like other festivals, we continued with this festival here too by spreading out cooked rice topped with vegetables in quarter plates on the roofs of our houses.” 

In a moment Kailash Pandit plunged deeply into the reminiscences of his past and remained immersed in a fit of emotion for long. Subsequently, he recovered and continued to deliver his speech.

“I believe firmly that even now those ravens may be coming flying to the Valley during winters with hope and expectation. They may be perching on the roofs of our abandoned houses looking for their hosts. I feel they might be hopping from house to house in search of those traditionally prepared crosses with platters embellished with cooked rice and vegetables and looking like gnat planes on housetops. Who would inform them that we too keep waiting and looking for them with hearts full of emotions and eyes full of tears, especially on this ‘Raven’s Full Moon’ day, not there but here far away from the valley in our new dwellings? Who knows if those little birds still visit the valley with the same anticipation and enthusiasm or not? 

Kailash Pandit overwhelmed with emotion, filled his eyes with tears of desperation, and Sunny, his grandson, looking at him, slowly slipped out of the room knowing well that his grandfather didn’t like anybody’s presence on such occasions and it was always preferable to leave him alone.

For the last few years, Kailash Pandit and his family regularly visited Kashmir for a couple of weeks during summer to have a respite from the scorching heat of Delhi exactly like those ravens who in order to escape the chilling cold of the North Pole visited Kashmir. While in Srinagar, the local people at the airport, Tourist Reception Centre, Dal Lake, different Hotels and other tourist spots received them warmly and showered their affection and love without any hesitation. Sometimes they came across some elderly people who reminisced about their past when Kailash Pandit was a part and parcel of their cultural heritage. On both sides, eyes welled up with emotions and tears and said a lot in the language of silence about the days of peace that prevailed in Kashmir before the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits.

Last year, Kailash Pandit, surprisingly, insisted on visiting his ancestral house where he had spent a major part of his life before moving out of Kashmir. Perhaps the thought that his days were numbered now teased him and he wanted to have a look at his ancestral house where he was born and had spent almost his whole life before his final journey. It was here he had heard lullabies of his mother in childhood, played Gilli-danda and cricket with his friends in youth and cycled the distance from home to office and vice versa after marriage but destiny played its part and he was forced to live his last days in exile far away from his land of birth. 

On reaching there he found his house had changed its look altogether though structurally it remained the same. For him, the time had frozen from the moment he had left his house in the early nineties. Possibly he did not remember that time does not wait for anyone and such was the case with his old dwelling too. Twenty-five years ago he had left with the hope of an early return to his home but the conditions showed no improvement thereafter. Time passed by, days turned into months and months into years and he lost the count. The house passed into the hands of his neighbor who had made some additions and alterations to suit his requirement.

The new owner welcomed him and his family. After sitting for a while and exchanging pleasantries he got up and examined each and every corner of the house that had buried in it the fond memories of his childhood and youth. The time machine once again seemed to travel back for him and his recollections came alive for a while.

“It was here in this room I studied during school and college days. Sometimes I used to look out the window and sing my favourite film songs. Instantly, across the lane in the window opposite that mine, Roopa would show her serene moon-like face and respond with a smile. God knows where she may be now! Nobody knows about the other! Our kitchen was exactly under this room. The sound of striking of pots and pans came alive early in the morning and soon there used to be a call for morning tea–the salt tea with baker's flatbread.

Our parent’s room was exactly above that room on the other side. The winter days would pass celebrating festivals one after the other. In the month of Magha by the Hindu calendar, we used to celebrate 'Raven’s Full Moon' by welcoming the migratory ravens and used to feed them boiled rice and cooked vegetables. We observed fast for them and called them by singing a song after keeping food on the thatched roof.”

Suddenly Kailash Pandit woke up from his daydream and desired to see that part of the roof where his father used to fix the cross made out of two sticks bound together with straw which took the shape of a platter. He used to put boiled rice with cooked vegetables on it to feed those black ravens. Soon Kailash Pandit realized his mistake and began to laugh at his foolery.

The owner thought that Kailash Pandit was looking for something precious which he now wanted to find. So after a while, the owner asked him politely what was he searching for? Kailash Pandit replied immediately, “I’m searching for my childhood. I lost it here in these four walls. But I am aware that I can’t find it now.” He had a good feigned laugh after saying these words and his eyes continued to be reeking. 

After a while, he tried to get up from his seat but could not until his grandson held his hand and helped him to stand and walk up to the car which was parked outside the house.

*****