Downtown ‘Kot’ Laments

Notes on the Dying Gasps of  Srinagar Downtown

TO invert a saying , twist and graft it onto a theme that is close to my heart and that speaks to me, “You can take a boy from downtown Kashmir but you can’t take away downtown from the boy”. Yes, of course, I am not a boy but a man but my recollections of downtown Srinagar are fresh and vivid- exactly the same when family moved from downtown (Wattal Kadal, apparently a rendition of Walter Kadal- a bridge named after Walter Lawrence, a British surveyor and scholar who wrote an incisive  but sympathetic book,’ The Valley of Kashmir’).  I have lived in many parts of the world, been exposed to different cultures and ways of life but I am and will remain the quintessential downtown kot.

I recall my downtown as a maze of alleys running into alleys, cobble stoned narrow lanes that criss- crossed each other, beautiful houses made of small bricks, and at times  having sloping terraces where flowers would bloom in spring and summer. I recall my downtown  as not a place on a map or an urban agglomeration but as a ‘living space’ where everyone knew everyone, by their first or last names and oftentimes with a nickname. I recall my downtown as that space where camaraderie and bonding came naturally to its denizens. I recall my downtown as a space where if any member of a household would fall sick or die, the whole mohalla(neighbourhood) would grieve. I recall my downtown as a space where post school, after my mother would feed me tsot(bread) dipped in Kahwa, I would dash to see my friends and fly kites, play marbles and explore its  maze of alleys and lanes. I recall my downtown as a space where the local , mouth watering treats for children and adults alike were the Basrekh- hollowed round balls with one side open , bound by a dense coat or ground sugar paste, the Monje gooil( dried and fried lotus stems with a coating of flour, the tille karre( fried chickpeas) and so on. I recall my downtown as a space where the Kabaadi Waala(scrap dealer) would yell  and women folk would haggle with him and sell him junk. I recall my downtown as a space where most of its women folk would spin Pashmina on their Yaendars (spindles) in their spare time for what was once a feature of downtown( Pashmina or Cashmere production and trade). I recall my downtown as the city of seven bridges connected by the then clear and gushing Jhelum river and its tributaries. My downtown was a space where grandmothers would, in winter, rub glycerin over us kids’ blistering skin to heal it and narrate stories of the Djinns, the Pari’s (fairies) and the Pasikdhar( the guardian angel who stood guard over each home).  I recall my downtown as a space where during winters, when there was sparse electricity, we would under the glow of the lantern put small potatoes in the kangri( Kashmiri firepot with a cane frame), when the popping sound of the potato would mean it was roasted amd ready to be peeled and eaten , when fights(good natured ones) would break out between siblings over who would first eat the potato. I recall my downtown as a space where every denizen of the place would have ‘ teh’ – a  certain attitude and temperament (harmless) which loosely denoted pride and a disposition which did not countenance the pride of anyone else. I recall my downtown as a space where the call to prayer, the azaan  was a marker of time where even the raucous ‘waane pyand’( young men sitting at and around corner shops and regaling each other with typical downtown wit and humor) would fall silent in respect.

Importantly, downtown Kashmir has been a site of  great literary and mystical(Sufi) insights and experiences. Shrines dot the landscape of this heritage locality of ours and great litterateurs and Sufi poets were born and reached efflorescence and the apogee of their work(s) here. Some notable names include luminaries like Samad Mir, Shamas Faqeer, Hamdi Kashmiri, Rafique Raaz, G N Firaq and contemporarily , Ghulam Nabi Shahid, the late Rahman Rahi and the best ever oral historian Kashmir has ever produced, the one and only Zareef Ahmad Zaraeef.

The recollections can go on and on.  And I can wax lyrically nostalgic about downtown Kashmir.  But the sad , prosaic fact that makes my eyes moist is that my or our downtown is dying. Hitherto the centre of gravity of Kashmir in every sense of the term- economic,  religious ,social, political, cultural and so on- which set the tone for the rest of Kashmir, profound sociological, cultural , economic , demographic changes are ‘conspiring’ to kill our downtown. In place of beautiful but old structures that exuded warmth have mushroomed ugly concrete structures. The local ‘kaka’s (loosely translated as uncle) dukaans(shops) have been replaced by ugly ‘shopping complexes’ The breakdown of the traditional family structure has meant that the well off have migrated to the suburbs leaving downtown to the not so well off. The traditional sweets of Kashmir’s downtown- the monji gooil, the tille karre, the basrekh- are almost relics now.  The camaraderie and bonding that was the hallmark of our downtown , while it still exists to a small extent, is giving way to distance and less warmth.   While delineating this ‘list’ which breaks my heart can also go on and on, downtown Kashmir’s slow death must concentrate our minds. Obviously , downtown Kashmir as it was cannot be recreated , restored nor brought into existence in its pristine form. But it can stay and remain alive, in our hearts and minds.  It is here that the spirit of downtown Kashmir can actually be re-enacted and restored for, in the ultimate analysis downtown besides being a real physical space is a state of the mind, a temperament and attitude. Let us then resolve to render downtown Kashmir as a lived reality of and in our minds.  Let us make haste slowly and make downtown Kashmir once again part and parcel of our psycho-emotional worlds. Yes it is cliche but I will conclude  to underscore its urgency: make downtown real. Tomorrow may be too late!

Post Script: ‘Kot’ is a Kashmiri word that loosely translates as boy.

• Views expressed in the article are the author’s own and do not necessarily represent the editorial stance of Kashmir Observer

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