By Mushtaq Hurra
Restoration of greenery ceases dormancy and hibernation, resuscitates life back to normal after a prolonged winter lull, in Kashmir. Frozen waterfalls begin to rumble with copiously crystal-clear aqua, sweltered and scalded meadows turn velvety green, naked flora grows a rich canopy to bless us with soothing shades, Kaleidoscopic flowers spread invigorating aroma to make surroundings fragrant, nesting of bulbuls and doves on tiny branches of fruit trees adds optimistic vibes to dejected souls, pleasant sunshine warms the congealed and frost-bitten creatures, and euphonious cuckoos produce enticing sounds to remind and persuade farmers and agriculturists to resume their agro activities which were suspended during the algid winter months.
Common cuckoo in our Kashmiri parlance is called Bael Cuck (Cuckoo of Seeds). The bird is believed to be the harbinger of agro and farming activities in Kashmir valley. Frequency of its warbling is thought to determine the fortunes of the agro industry. I vividly remember how my late grandmother used to prompt my father at the typical calls of the bird to start the preparations for paddy seedbeds.
Though the belief associated with the caroling of the cuckoo seems to be mythical, yet it is motivating and inspiring. The distinct sounds of the bird still reverberate in the environs of the valley, and scratch nostalgic vibes of our elders, but the old notion and spirit attributed to it, is gone. Our young people hardly know anything about the beautiful tradition. Bael Cuck is considered propitious for the farming sector, and its appearance convinces female folk to commence their farming operations.
Since our rural economy is chiefly sustained by agriculture and its allied sectors, the preparation of different seed-beds begins in the late March, but some of our progressive farmers and growers brave all odds of the harsh winter to incept the great work in the poly houses, during January and February. Industrious women folk of rural areas work diligently in their kitchen gardens and orchards to prepare different seed-beds to grow various vegetable species. It not only helps our rural belt in its self-sufficiency and self-reliance, but helps the people to adopt healthy lifestyles, which ultimately saves them from many lifestyle ailments.
Paddy seed beds are brides of kharif season. Preparations for a paddy seedbed are no lesser than a festivity in the valley. Selection of the seeds is done during threshing season. The best seeds are chosen and stored safely in granaries. Finest jute sacks or big earthen pails are used to keep the seeds under safe custody. Paddy seeds require submersion to break the dormancy, and the same is done in the second fortnight of April. Seedbeds are repeatedly tilled, dug and rolled for best results. Prior to sowing of the seeds, a special Tehri ( A ubiquitous fried rice dish prepared with tempering of onions ) is distributed among children and elders of the locality. I won’t delve into the religious justification of the tradition, but it helps people to strengthen their social bonds. Many so-called religious fanatics discourage the custom of Tehri, but beautiful social rituals don’t need a doctrinal advocacy to continue.
Another indigenously exclusive exercise etched to paddy seedbeds is Bael Tumul or Cherim. Leftover germinated paddy seeds are converted into a special rice called Beal Tumul or Cherim. The surplus germinated paddy seeds are sun-dried, and then pestled in a mortar. The rice obtained thus is winnowed. It is not usually cooked, but eaten raw with sugar and walnut kernels. Cherim rice mixed with sugar is distributed among friends, relatives and neighbors as a token of love and gratitude. But, the job is quite laborious and lengthy, so the practice has almost withered out . The culinary delicacy is being kept alive by a handful of households only.
The beautiful traditions of our glorious past have begun to dwindle. Mechanical onslaught has eroded some cherished legacies from the canvas of our proud past. We have miserably failed to transmit our heritage and practices to our own progeny. They have become digital slaves and sloths who can’t engage themselves in exhilarating customs of the past. We have encouraged our children to abandon the centuries old ancestral tradition of paddy farming, by converting it into orchards. Thousands of acres of paddy land has fallen prey to our unwarranted and hollow pride. A splash of mud from irrigated paddy farmland is thought to be blot on our credibility. Oh ! We have surpassed the height of stupidity and ignorance. Some exquisitely delicate mores and praxis have vanished into the thin air. Our young people are neither acquainted with the cuckoo nor its canticles. The Bael Cuck is still calling us to keep the torch ignited.
The author is a Teacher and a Columnist. He can be reached at [email protected]
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