In Pursuit of Morels: A Childhood Adventure

By Peer Mohammad Amir Qureshi 

While I was recovering under a stack of quilts due to feeling unwell a few days prior, I overheard a group of children excitedly spreading the news that a local named Tehleel had stumbled upon some morels.As the echoes of children’s excitement filled the air, I peered through the window and saw them flocking to visit Tehleel. He was bombarded with a barrage of questions about the discovery of morels: where he found them, whose orchard they were from, and how many he had found.

Morels are prized mushrooms with a distinctive honeycomb-like structure, often heralding the arrival of spring as the first to emerge. This early appearance adds to their allure and mystique. Tehleel laughed heartily and answered, “May Laeb’ Emm kangnich Razaq Chachn’i Baaghi’ Manzi—”I found these morels in Razzaq’s orchard, where blessings abound.” 

Buzzing with delight, the kids enthusiastically followed Tehleel, vanishing from view like bees to flowers.I felt all kinds of emotions at once. Since the people of Srinagar owned all the orchards, Razzaq was only the orchard’s custodian and not its owner. Even yet, Razzaq chachi’s name remained on the orchard, even though those kids probably never saw him because he had died more than ten years prior. I thought back to my early years and remembered passing those orchards on my route to school. As the vernal equinox heralds its arrival, nature’s dormant denizens emerge from their somnolent state, seizing the opportunity bestowed upon them to unfurl their verdant splendor in a symphony of resplendent bloomWhen gardens burst with an array of colorful flowers, the blossoming peach trees bring an extra charm to the scene. Back in the day, children headed to school without crisp uniforms, ties, or ID cards. Their shoes gleamed not from polish, but from mustard oil. On my way home, passing orchards of apple and peach trees, we would share exciting discoveries. News of finding something new, like Guchi morels, spread through the village like wildfire. 

All the children would dash home, quickly change their clothes, and return in search of morels (kangich). Every orchard became bustling with children, and once one child found a morel, every other child believed there was another nearby waiting to be found. They would gather in a circle at that spot, chanting “Joori’e Joo’er Nati Ninn oEr'” (either give me your pair or take your partner away), while searching nearby, displacing the grass in their quest.In April, as the weather remains cool  with frequent showers  thunderstorms and lightning, every child, myself included, believed that morels grew and emerged from the soil during these storms.

Among the many myths circulating among us children, some believed that applying kajal to our eyes in the morning would improve our eyesight and aid in finding a larger quantity of morels. We were all engrossed in discussions about which orchard had the best abundance of morels, fueled by our shared curiosity and wonder.Each of us would bring home the morels, and our mothers would meticulously thread them together like garlands using needle and thread. These garlands would then be hung up for the drying process, filling our homes with the earthy aroma of the mushrooms as they preserved for selling ۔

As April drew to a close, it was announced that the presence of morels had dwindled, and children began to compare how many morels they had collected. The once abundant and sizable morels had dried up, shrinking in size, much to the dismay of every child. They worried that they wouldn’t make enough money, as what had once seemed like substantial garlands of morels now appeared diminished. Every child became increasingly eager to sell their morels at good prices, hoping to make the most of their harvest before the opportunity faded away completely. On Sundays, every child eagerly awaited the arrival of the morel merchant, who would come with a bag slung over his back, either on his bicycle or more commonly on foot. He carried a small measuring scale in his hands and pockets brimming with money. Everyone wanted to sell their morels directly in front of their eyes, as every child harbored trust issues, fearing that their parents or the merchant might cheat them and not pay them the exact amount they deserved۔Since sometimes our mothers wouldn’t disclose the actual amount of money they received when selling the morels, children felt compelled to sell their harvest directly to the morel merchant to ensure they received the full and fair value for their hard-earned bounty. While  the children of this generation are often absorbed in mobile and virtual gaming, there’s a unique allure to activities like searching for morels and selling them. It offers a different kind of engagement with nature and a sense of satisfaction from the tangible rewards of their efforts. I hope that the children of this generation will have the opportunity to experience the joys of exploring orchards and engaging in activities like morel hunting, just as we did at their age. It’s a tradition worth preserving and passing down to future generations.

• The author is a columnist based in Ganderbal. He can be reached at [email protected]

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