Shivratri is celebrated as a significant festival throughout India, marking the togetherness of Shiva and Parvati and in Kashmir, it is separately celebrated as ‘Herath’, word denoted for “Har-Ratri”, the night of Hara -the lord of lords, Shiva.
In Kashmir, Pandits offer pooja throughout the night, and in the morning, Watuk—an earthen pot symbolizing the childlike essence of Bhairava, signifying innocence, purity, and divine strength—is filled with fresh water and walnuts. It is then surrounded by grass ropes garlanded with flowers and placed among other decorative items including diyas. The eldest male of the family fasts, and as the evening descends, he is served food on Dastarkhan or Batte Palo, a traditional Kashmiri cloth used for dining.
Salaam, the importance of walnuts as prasad in Kashmiri culture
Before the exodus of Kashmiri Pandits, Herath was not only commemorated by the Kashmiri Pandits but also celebrated by heartwarming gatherings where Kashmiri Muslims and Pandits mingled in homes, joyfully feasting, singing together, sharing laughter, and exchanging heartfelt anecdotes with one another.
On the second day of Herath Muslim neighbors graciously used to visit the homes of Pandits to extend their warm greetings for the festival under the rainy skies, a customary feature of the day, hence termed ‘Salaam’. In a beautiful exchange of traditions, the Pandits reciprocated with Herath kharch, money given as a gift, and aabe Tchot (rice bread) and walnuts as prasad. Unfortunately, the new generation of Kashmiri Pandits falls short of this experience. Growing up, most Kashmiri Muslims never witnessed the festival of Herath, and Pandits never got to celebrate it with Kashmiri Muslims.
Nights passed in the melodic recitations of Bhajans and Leelas, while mornings dawned with the soul-stirring strains of folk music from Kashmiri artists. Such was the rich amalgamation of diverse musical and artistic styles within Kashmiri culture.
Dr. Wahid Raza, a retired educationist and a Kashmiri poet and critic, fondly recalls a time when he shared deep bonds with numerous Pandit friends in his village and the surrounding areas. Bablu ji, Ganga ji, Shiva ji, Kakji ji,.. and the list goes on.
One memorable day during Raza’s 9th-grade year, his tuition teacher, Avtar Krishan Kaul, along with his mother, affectionately called ‘Mauj,’ who always cared for Raza with warmth, extended an invitation to attend a festival at their home.
Raza recalls the peaceful atmosphere of Kaul Ji’s verandah, where Kaul Ji encouraged Ghulam Mohuidin Shah, aka Mahad Shah, who had come for Salaam, to sing “Haa Mokhta Khosh Deedar,” a masterpiece by the renowned Kashmiri songwriter, Shams Fakeer. “Every time I sing or hear this song,” Raza shares with misty-eyed eyes, “it feels as though Mauj is still by my side, her presence continuing in the music.”
Harmony does not end at ‘Herath’
Not only were festivals occasions to celebrate harmony, but harmony was also cherished during Eid, marriages, engagements, school and many other events.
Reflecting on his memories, Ravindar ji, a retired government employee residing at Sheikhpora, Budgam, recalls, “I was famous for my chutneys; everyone loved the flavors I infused into them, especially during Kashmiri weddings. I used to single-handedly serve food to guests at Muslim weddings,” chuckles Ravinder Ji, who delights in recounting anecdotes from days gone by. “Though I’m shy about public speaking, I love sharing tales of old times at gatherings.”
During those times, constructing homes didn’t involve hiring laborers; only skilled individuals such as masons, carpenters, and plumbers lent their expertise. Neighbors would unite to mix cement, assist carpenters in woodwork, and support plumbers in their tasks. “One of my friends, Rashid, had to build a home, and many offered to help, but I insisted on doing it solo. I constructed the slab of his house, leaving everyone amazed. Occasionally, we meet, and he becomes emotional, recalling the bond we shared in our youth.”
Abdul Rashid and Ravinder Ji have been friends since childhood, with Abdul being born just a minute before Ravinder. “As kids, we would sneak into orchards to steal apples, then sit beneath the shade of trees, savoring the sweetness of apples and the tranquility of that time,” beams Ravinder Ji. “Later, we’d spend hours sitting on shop Verandas, engaging in discussions about the most random topics.”
In another parallel story, Raza and Bablu Kaul shared the same bond of friendship, but it wasn’t everlasting. Bablu Kaul is also the son of Raza’s teacher, Moti Lal Kaul, who holds a special place in Raza’s heart. Raza recalls with warmth, “In the days leading up to Herath, I would constantly inquire about Herath with Bablu and Moti Lal ji, ‘Mahra Herath kar tche?’ (How long until Herath arrives?) and we would eagerly count down each passing day until the occasion arrived.
“I remember a day during Herath when I visited their home and found my father already there. Moti Lal Ji gently placed his hand on my head and prophesied that I would have a bright future,” Raza reminisced, holding onto those words as a source of strength during difficult times.
Many Pandits had a deep motivation towards facilitating education for Muslims living in Kashmir. While Raza mentions how Kashmiri teachers used to be particular about schooling and education, Fatima, a 70-year-old woman, remembers how her neighbors, Indravati and her daughter Dulhan, used to advise her to pursue education.
“My father had died at a very young age; I couldn’t study, but Indravati would come and ask me to visit school. In addition, she used to ask if my younger sisters had gone to school that day,” Fatima recalls. “We used to help each other on a daily basis, and even if we didn’t do it, we possessed the utmost respect for each other. Visiting Indravati’s home brought a different charm, especially enjoying ‘noon chai’ in elegant Khes, traditional copper cups,” she adds, longing for the culture of Khes and Kashmiri cups.
Surge in conflict
After the Kashmir independence gained momentum in the 1980s after the longstanding conflicts and war, the winds in Kashmir started to shift, eroding the traditional corners of Kashmir.
During the nineties, the Kashmir conflict was at its peak, casting fear over the region, where death, loss, and violence loomed at large. In this era of darkness, everyone was worried about neighbors and friends. Kashmiri Muslims and Pandits shared concerns for each other’s safety as violence haunted every aspect of daily life.
It was during those times that Ravinder Ji was transferred to Dragam, a village in Budgam that had become one of the hotspots for clashes between the Indian army and armed rebels. “I worked at Dragam, surrounded by dense forests. My friends came and urged me to leave the place, but I did not fear anything. My father told a story to me—a lesson, really—”When a bear confronts you, it focuses on your feet. If you step back, it will chase you, but if you step forward, it will fear you.’ I followed his advice and stayed, but all the people from the surrounding villages gathered and protested for my transfer to a safer place,” recounts Ravinder. On asking if the crowd included Muslims, he replied in disbelief, “Ye bhi koi puchne ki baat hai? (Is this a question worth asking?). Of course, Kashmiri Muslims were among them.”
With skepticism towards the new generation residing in and outside of Kashmir, Ravinder is not sure if they still know the culture, or if they connect to their cultural harmony.He is scared of the possibility that new generations will forget who Kashmiris actually are.
However, Pooja Pandita, a Kashmiri pandit who lives in Delhi, does not hold the same views. “Nothing has changed; Married Women outside Kashmir still wear Dejhoor,(a cultural earring); I still love to eat rice twice a day; and we still use Batte Palo to dine on,” she asserts. “ The exodus of Pandits from Kashmir has shattered our trust in once-flourished Kashmiri harmony. Our generation no longer witnesses the brotherhood that our elders once experienced. The time for us isn’t favorable. While everyone keeps choosing sides, I realized sadness is united. There’s no competition between grief and compassion.”
With the lost culture, vanishing tradition, and fading tales, Ravinder Ji wonders whether Kashmiri Muslims and Pandits will ever again unite in celebration for Herath. Raza holds dear all the moments of the past and celebrates the untold tales carved deep in his heart. Pooja dreams of a better future for the new generation and the revival of Kashmiri heritage.
