Z.G.MUHAMMAD
Indeed, my mother, grandmother, and my friends’ mams were innocent incarnate; nonetheless, it would be idiocy to say that their innocence reflected their fatuity. Having ‘endured life’s many a curveball with grace’, many of them had gained much experience and worldly wisdom to counsel each other to face life’s challenges with fortitude and courage. Their knowledge and understanding were the families’ forte that provided them the props to face the gusty winds of bad times. Their wisdom cemented the families into impregnable fortresses, where children grew up under canopies of filial warmth, the bondage of love in the families preventing their fragmentation on frivolous issues.
Our society generally was not patriarchal, and there was no Lord Montague in our society who considered women weak and ‘only good for childbirth.’ Quite a large section of the native women toiled with men on the paddy fields, vegetable farms and in Bazars-vending vegetables and other daily needs; nonetheless, they did not join men when they went to commercial centres of the city, the Hari Singh High Street, Zaina Kadal, Safa Kadal, Sri Ranbir Gunj or Khak-Bazar Nowhatta. (The Khaka Bazazr had lost commercial importance after Maharaja Ranbir Singh had brought and settled traders from as far places as Multan in Punjab- popularly known as Khatris.) These major trading markets were the reserves of men.
Our mother’s and grandmother’s only interaction with the trading hubs was the makeshift markets. During the twelve days of Ur’s Nabi (Milad-u-Nabi), Mehraj Alam, and Ur’s Khulfa e Rashideen, when the Holy Relic of Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) was exhibited after five prayers and on all the Fridays, the makeshift market in Hazratbal bubbled with life. Scores of booths selling a wide range of earthenware cooking and eating utensils, pots, pans, hubble-bubbles, and toys—horses, palanquins, miniature cups, saucers, and cauldrons—dominated the market. There would be stalls of wooden products, spinning wheels, ladles, winnowing baskets, baby strollers, mortars and pestles, and tobacco boxes. On the Northern side of Hazratbal, rows of small canopies, coloured and dingy white, stretched across the ground. Under these awnings, small-time drapers offered different varieties of clothing- satin, cashmere and cotton. Many trinket vendors roaming around the Dargah premises with their glass boxes filled with fake jewellery, glass bangles, earrings, and pendants hanging from their shoulders would draw the interest of young ladies and girls. These makeshift marketplaces appeared as though they were plucked from medieval Arabia and placed on the banks of calm and translucent Dal Lake. The Dal Lake side of Dargah would be most crowded for its wazukhanas (ablution stations) and its market, which bustled with commercial activity. Besides having many grocery and meat shops, its main attraction was a chain of old-fashioned bakery shops famed for making Roath, a syrupy brownish bread laced with almonds and peanuts with a cake-like texture. It was priced as per its size and quality. It was bought to be distributed as Niaz—an oblation and offering at the Dargah or Astana on the birth of a child, children completing examination successfully, or on marriage—to seek Allah’s blessings. The offering of the Roath was generally made by mothers at Dargah on the successful completion of class eight (then called middle) and class ten (matriculation) exams by children.
My mother and aunt were just like any other local native ladies in Srinagar- in visiting Dargah on all solemn occasions, sometimes boarded buses and occasionally took a boat. Invariably, my younger sibling Hassan and I accompanied them to Dargah and other Astanas during all Ur’s. They said congregational prayers in a specified area for women. They made supplications with brimming eyes; sometimes, tears rolled down their cheeks when the Holy Relic was displayed- some women sobbed loudly. We firmly grappled with their burqas when the holy relic was put to public glance, lest we not get separated from them in this mammoth crowd. To this day, those scary moments are itched in my mind. Having glanced at the glass vial containing Moi-Muqaddas from quite a distance, they did believe their prayers were granted, which was distinctly visible in the glow of their faces. And happily, they walked towards the makeshift market on the Northern side of the Dargah. Like us children, it was the potter’s booths that caught their attention; we looked for the terracotta toys, horses, miniature cups and saucers, and they picked up one after earthenware kitchen utensils for cooking food and making curds- somehow their belief was food cooked in terracotta pots is tastier and healthier. Having purchased some terracotta items, they walked to another booth dealing in wooden products- these booths were also our choices for the variety of wooden toys: Jahaz, To’ken, Pepin, etc. I don’t remember; they were ever attracted towards clothing seller’s kiosks; perhaps the reason was the Banjir, the hawkers from Punjab selling clothing from door to door. The Ban’jir was lovingly called Rashmi Kapra Walia; many crossed the Banihall with bails of clothing by spring and stayed in Kashmir till autumn. They moved to different towns, but Srinagar, particularly the city of Sultans, the Downtown would be their central station. Some of them had been travelling to Kashmir during British rule through the famed Jhelum Valley Road, and they had established a chain of clientele, which they or their offspring revived after the permit system was done away with in the mid-1950s. Over some time, these Rashmi Kapra Walias had become so familiar with the maze of lanes and by-lanes, besides footing the distance from one part of the city to another part, they also remembered the houses of their permanent customers. They shouted, “Bhanji Rashmi Kapra Walia Aa Gaya,” while carrying a bail of clothes on their backs. The yell electrified the alley, and ladies, like giraffes, put out their necks to call him to their compound. Squatting on the ground, he unpacked his huge bundle and displayed different types of cloth before them.
Meanwhile, some other neighbouring women also gathered around him. Some of these Ban’jir’ had picked up some Kashmiri words for impressing upon the women the quality of the cloth- their speaking in broken Kashmiri drew guffaws and boisterous waves of laughter in the ladies. One of the most eloquent women haggled over the price on behalf of others. In our Mohalla beside Wah-Wah Ded, about whose fads and fancies I have already mentioned, there were a couple of other conversationalist women who were best at negotiating prices in a jocular mood- some of my mother’s friends whose names still lurk in my mind were Rehat Masa, Haja Bobi and Tota- these women for their qualities and quirks need to be mentioned a bit in detail, at a later stage. Crepe, satin and printed poplin with floral design were the most favoured fabrics with ladies of all ages. Crepe was an ideal fabric for making the Koshur Burqa, and black satin was the chosen cloth for making the Pujab Burqa- I am amazed that this Burqa in two parts had been named so. I don’t remember if these Rashmi Kapra Walias allowed credit or deferred payments, but I have seen my aunt and mother always making purchases against cash. They also drew some catharsis in haggling prices, arguing over the fabric’s quality, or challenging the genuineness of satin or crepe. The native hucksters selling bangles, trinkets, and cheap cosmetics were more entertaining than Rashmi Kapra Walias. In playing at words, they were at their best blending their conversation in chaste mother tongue with witticism and epigrams. They made them buy goods with a smile on their faces- wrangling prices with them had more thrill than with the Punjabi cloth seller. Another beautiful sight in our compounds was that of hawkers, who traded through a sort of barter system- in exchanging the old clothes, scraps of copper and brass utensils, they sold willow baskets of different sizes, winnowers, strainers, sieves, etc, our aunts and mothers spent a good time in making some good purchases throught for domestic use.
…… to be continued
Z.G.Muhammad is a noted writer and columnist
