By Z.G.MUHAMMAD
Those days in early hours , the troubadours, ladishah shuttled from house to house and sang folk songs. For their performance people paid them a cupful of rice or some money ; one or two annas. Forte of their songs was satire . The distinctive diction of their verses laced with witticism not only made people burst into laughters but also sent forceful message against ills in the society . Following these minstrels from house to house and listening to their songs was my loveable pastime. Like other children in my locality, I remembered some mocking verses. Nonetheless, I hardly realized that these folk singers also were not free to sing songs of their choice. That the mouths of folksingers were also gagged, I learnt this lesson when one day a pharmacist Mohammad Shafi Koul, our neighbour and friend my uncle Ghulam Nabi asked a ladishah to sing satirical song that was often broadcast from Radio Azad Kashmir. In this popular satirical song then Prime Minister, Bakshi Ghulam Mohammad, some of his ministers and henchmen were so powerfully lampooned that every child remembered them. The pharmacist was an ardent supporter of jailed Sheikh Mohammad Abdullah and Mirza Mohammad Afzal Beg.
For fearing of being reported by the CID and later on beaten to a pulp at the Halqa office, the ladishah was reluctant to sing the satirical song. In choked political atmosphere, when listening to Azad Kashmir Radio could invite a cane charge or land in lock up the songs of ladishah were cathartic. The pharmacist assured ladishah of secrecy and offered him for satirising and caricaturing Bakshi Ghulam Mohammad, seen as a collaborator by overwhelming population. The scene of the worried ladishah with his only musical instrument, an iron rod with a score of rings to jingle with sitting in a corner of the drawing room of our second house which opened into a small lane connected to amaze of lanes is still fresh with me. To overcome the fear of the informers, he had long puffs of smoke from the hubble-bubble. The sparkles rising from the chillum made many suspicious that he had mixed some marijuana with tobacco. Some other friends of my uncle also gathered in the room. Only after the windows were closed and blinds were drawn, the folk singer sang one after another song. Satirizing, Indian Prime Minister for not living up to his pledges. Comparing, the ministers and collaborators with thugs and muggers, by blending his songs with some rustic phrase, he made a laughing stock of them. Some, with a notebook and pencil in their hands scrabbled the songs and later on read them out to others. The songs brought some relief to the stifled political atmosphere inside the room and enabled the listeners to work off their anger for some time. For some time, the room filled with smoke and cascading with the aroma of tobacco looked like an island of freedom.
The ladishah after performance sneaked out of our house like Romeo and was lost in the maze of lanes of our Mohalla. The satirical compositions of the ladishah connected us to our narrative so powerfully that got a permanent stamped on our minds. In transferring Kashmir narrative from one generation to another the folk singers played an important role.
Our was a generation born during most chaotic period in the history of our land. When smoke was still coming out of the smouldering houses, when dust raised by the bomber planes was yet to settle down. When bodies littered on the sides of famous popular avenue of Baramulla road continued to stink. And despite growing up in suffocating political atmosphere we very subtly inherited the peoples narrative through troubadours, songsters and great oral tradition. Notwithstanding, the state passing from one collaborator to another and the freedom of expression continuing to be the causality the peoples’ narrative survived and attracted younger generation like moths to the taper.
In 1964, during my last days in High School, Bakshi Ghulam Mohammad, was dumped into the dustbin of history by his masters sitting atop Raisina Hill in Lutyens Delhi. He had swaggered like a King across the corridors of power in the State for eleven years. In his place another turncoat, ostensibly a socialist Ghulam Mohammad Sadiq was appointed. His appointment came in the wake of the Holy Relic Movement that had shaken the establishment in New Delhi to its foundation. To sail across smoothly on turbulent waves caused by the Holy Relic Movement, he also picked up the phrase, “Azadi; Tahreer-u-Taqeer from his jugular’s bag. For his admiration of men who had led revolution and like Faiz Ahmed Faiz sang songs of freedom some people, including a close friend of my uncle saw him as a progressive politician and a man committed to the freedom of expression. Some enthusiastic journalists with the belief that the Delhi’s new man will not muzzle the press brought out newspapers.I the city some new weeklies and views papers hit the newsstands. The Mahaz an Urdu weekly brought out by the Plebiscite Front and the weekly Hurriyat published by the Awami Action Committee became not only a craze for the newspaper readers but also caught imagination of “non-newspaper-reading” supporters of these two organizations.
…….to be continued
Z.G.Muhammad is a noted writer and columnist
