Yajin Bhatt
In the folds of Kashmiri Mountains prevails a solemnity of Gods. In the swirls of its breezes plays the music of this universe. Undoubtedly, Kashmir’s nature and surroundings is awesomely inspiring. Season form an integral part of its serenity, ranging from its mystic winters to charming summers with autumn having its special place in the hearts of one and all that belong to this valley.
Harud, as the autumn is called in the Kashmiri language, hold certain conspicuous features which are surely not visible in any other part of the country. The nostalgic memories of this season particularly, bring tears in the eyes of those who have spent major portion of their lives living in the lap of their motherland, collecting its bounties and then abruptly thrown out like an orphan. Each day of this season reminds me of my home land and other belongings I have been born and brought up with. The golden brown rice fields, streams of river waters and crimson leaves of trees like willows, walnut, Chinar etc reminds me of the breath taking beauty and grandeur of the autumn in Kashmir.
Farmers are the busy lot in this season as they prepare to harvest Paddy and Maze crops. The walnut trees eagerly wait to lighten up with the nuts. Most of farmers having orchids get engaged with picking up of apples, grapes and other seasonal fruits and later transporting them to the required destination. The hustle and bustle of the villages is worth seeing in this season and the happiest one is the farmer, because of the mere fascination of the reaping the fruits of their hard work. The entire world and all the pleasures get shrunk around his fields. In villages every work be that collecting of walnuts, carrying the paddy and maize from fields to home, picking up apples and other fruits, were always accompanied with the thrill of any competition and fun of any game. Men, women, young and old used to get involved in any work in their own capacity and with full team spirit.
The part of the globe where I live today, Autumn as such bears no importance but this season of Harud as a child always used to fascinate me. While looking back panorama of images passes before my mind’s eye like an old film roll unspoiled and unscathed. The entire childhood gets repeated and every event is rehearsed. Like all other villagers our family also used to remain most busy in this season. The day will start at 6 am or before and will end late nights around 11 pm or overnight in harvesting and collecting. These days attending Schools, Colleges, Offices and even social gatherings used to take back seat in the list of the priorities. Kids were having their major chunk of fun and pleasure out in the fields, farms and orchids. For me as a kid every autumn day was a picnic because those working in the fields used to get their meals and refreshment there only, which we all used to enjoy. Although, school and college exams used to be round the corner in the month of November but children were kept busy with collecting woods, storing grass for cattle and other big and small chores as November onwards the fields would wear deserted look due to the massive snowfall till March. The bonfire of Chinar and walnut leaves was yet another fun-filled task for the children and the coal so produced was used in the firepot, the famous KANGRI during the biting cold of the winters.
Talking about autumn and giving the majestic Chinar a miss would amount to insulting the beauty of Kashmir. Towards the end of November the spell binding charm of Chinar trees is worth observing. Its leaves change their color from green to crimson red and while it bade good bye to its parent trees it turns pale yellow. One would cherish the rustling sound of the leaves as they get trampled under our feet, as if protesting for this uncouth human behavior. Another striking feature of autumn is the crystal clear water of rivers, springs and streams coming directly from the Shivalik Mountains, bringing with it the whiff of cool air, indicating the onset of winter season.
With so much of spirituality and serenity around, it seems that some places are destined to remain sorrowful in spite of even the efforts of even the Gods to make them otherwise and Kashmir being one of them. One wonders what prompted a simple, innocent and hardworking villager to wield the gun instead of his sickle and spade.
The confined villager being innocent was lured into the dream of independent Kashmir by the selfish politicians and who suffered more in terms of humanly loss is the poor villager. The dream of Independent nation of Kashmir was the greatest self-inflicting wound for Kashmiris’. Its shadows still haunt the people no matter what community they belong to. Unfortunately, as destiny has its way, Kashmir’s have left itself drifted aimlessly by falling into the trap of Pak’s ISI and fundamentalist forces of the state. Imagine how much happiness is lost. People have been exile from their homes, Children have become orphans, mothers have lost their sons and this land is left bleeding due to fanaticism practiced by some selfish hands.
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