Story of my Grandfather
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After
a very harsh winter, and the advent of spring, the rays of sun had
started to enter the kanei in the mornings. Even though the wind was a
bit chilly, it was a joy for the household kids to watch the penetrating
sun beams, with thick dust particles dancing within. Occasionally the
elders also used to revel watching this sight with no fear or concern
for any modern day diseases like dust mites and dust allergies. The
concept of morning newspapers delivered home was not even a luxury, as
no English newspapers were printed in Kashmir in those days and the
closest print edition was the New Delhi edition which used to land in
the afternoon Delhi flight and would reach the local newspaper store at
the corner of Ali Kadal bridge around 4 pm. So there would be plenty of
time in the mornings to discuss and adopt a very leisurely lifestyle,
where often neighbours and other cousins from joint family would
assemble. Suddenly the kanei with its open plan had become the home epicentre as the pot kuth was abandoned. Pot kuth
used to be a gone room all encompassing area which had a functional
kitchen, an old 2 seater sofa; a big kitchen bench used primarily for
the water bucket, as there were no plumbing facilities in this room.
Thus water had to be physically carried over from the ground floor and
my grandmother would often make 2-3 trips a day to fetch the water with
no complaints. With only 2 windows, including a single lattice window in
the room, which used to remain closed all the time in winter, pot kuth often used to become boring after a few months.
Alikadal Bridge, Srinagar- Kashmir in old days
Normally at this hour on a weekend, my grandfather Ram Chandra
Revo, would have done the customary ritual of walking to Hari Parbhat
and then doing a circumambulation of the Chakrishwer temple and visiting
spring laden flowers in Badamveer. But today was the day when a
few neighbours would come and discuss with my grandfather. His
experience of working with his managers from UK in Grindlays Bank (now
ANZ Bank) and repeated practice of maintaining documentation in the
bank, had given him the natural gift of beautiful handwriting. Working
with these people in the bank, also meant that he had access to
magazines like Psychology Today, ample editions of Readers Digest,
banking volumes, books, novels and many other magazines. He had a very
big collection of books which always used to collect dust inside the
many cupboards spread across many different rooms. This gave him a great
command over the expression and writing of English language. This
quality of his was quite well known in the Batyar mohalla and
surrounding areas. We would often see people come to our house on
Saturday mornings asking for my grandfather to fill a Darkhast, which would be a plea to government authorities to address their wrongdoings.
Batyar Temple - Picture Credit Kamal Ganjoo
This morning, the visitors in the house kaeni included Rahman Dhobh,
an overweight middle aged person, who also happened to be a low rung
member of ruling National Conference Party and he would often project
this status as if he was next to Sheikh Abdullah, the then ruling party
founder and State Chief Minister. He used to wash namdas and raffal at the Batyar ghat
of the Jhelum river. His trousers used to be very wide and would have
fitted two Rahman's inside and in true Islamic tradition would always
expose his feet and ankles. His shalwar or shirt would extend to his
knees. Living in a brick house with big windows on the street, almost
next to Hazrat Syed Mohammad Amin Owaisi Saheb's shrine known
colloquially instead as Woosi Saeben masheed, gave him an exalted status
in the community. Mohammed Amir Owasi was a Persian Sufi poet who was
adopted by the wife of Kashmiri king Zain-ul-Abidin. Rahman's trade mark
would be his monstrous belch which he would almost always project after
lunch and dinner. This would have to be done just outside his home on
the street and he made all attempts to amplify the sound of his belch
which could be heard inside all homes in the locality. This customary
habit had become his way of projecting his so called power in the
street. There was also a local belief that belching after eating food is
a sign of a happy gut.
Views from Alikadal bridge - Picture Credit Kamal Ganju
Rahman's
grouse this morning was the extreme shoddy work done by the contractors
meant to repair the nael (open drains). Within just a week of
completing the work, the drain had gone back to its old state with
massive potholes and water logging, as if the cement had sunk in or
perhaps there was hardly any cement in the mix. This had made Rahman
angry along with other neighbours as this would mean they would be
exposed to the bad smells emanating from the litter from the drains and
would have to meander their way through this, every time they left their
homes. After all, just a few months back their Darkhast for repairing the drains was approved by the government. Rahman now wanted another Darkhast
to be prepared. This time he had come with few other community members
including another shawl cleaner, Ghulam Hassan, shop keeper Asudullah
and local ladies Noor and Aape. Local dialect and rules dictated that no
one would be called using their full names. Thus Asadullah was known as
Ausd and Ghulam Hassan was Hassan Dhobh. This morning at the kaeni, the
scene was looking like a mini panchayat. All the group members had
their strong views and would raise their voice and often blame their own
bad luck rather than the shoddy work of the contractors. Each one
thought they had a stronger point. Whenever Ghulam Hassan or Rahman
would speak about the appalling state of affairs of the lanes, Noor and
Aape would start abusing the contractors in choicest of Kashmir abuses -
'Ha payekeh trath', 'Dodkhe Khan', 'Khoda tale denakh aime kame hund saza'
as if the drains were their own household property. My grandfather’s
job was difficult as he had to channel all the frustration and pick up
logical points for inclusion in the less than A4 size hand written note
or sometimes on the now defunct Island Letter which was a blue coloured
sheet which had the provision of folding and writing the address on the
outside. The wailing of women and loud shouts would attract attention
from the morning crowds in the neighbourhood, who were visiting the
Batyar temple and also those visiting the Vusi saeb mosque and Bul bul Lankaer
mosque. Scores of customers waiting for the kandur to bring out their
girdas from the oven would also point their heads in the direction of
our house to listen to the loud cries. The other cousin families would
also assemble in the kaeni and hear out the community grievances.
The contractors would block major drain points and advise people not to release their kitchen and toilet waste. The contractors would delay and extend their work for days and in the melee people were left with no option but to release the waste out in the open on the roads. Finally after the excruciating wait, when the contractors would finally lay the last layer of the cement on the drains, the advice of not releasing the waste for at least 2 days would fall on deaf ears. No sooner had the contractors finished and left the cement to set in, few households would release their waste caring a damn for anyone else and giving an impression that they forgot and some kid opened the tap. With the result, the drains would never be construction grade. The bad design and paucity of thought and perhaps lack of funds, meant that the drain depth was hardly a few centimetres and would never cope with the amount of refuse being dumped on those narrow drains. My grandmother would be busy in the kitchen and would pretend not being interested in the talks outside. Armed with just a piece of paper and a working pen or pencil, at some point in the process, my grandfather would have completed the Darkhast and it would then fall upon the shoulders of people like Rahman Dhobh to follow this up with authorities. After some months, the contractors would start work again and people would feel a moral victory. Well after a few months the contractors came and repaired the drains over a long period and then it was back to the same state in just a few months. My grandfather in the meanwhile continued to help people write Darkhasts to municipal authorities, bank officials and hospitals. His gesture of help and his command of English language made him a true friend of the community. |
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The author used to be a resident of Batyar, Alikadal and is presently settled in Sydney. He is the editor of the online port |
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