A short glimpse at my Roots

A short glimpse at my Roots---

Bushan Rawal 


Recent picture of Ganesh temple at Hari Parbat, Srinagar , Kashmir (India)
During my brief visit to valley, I hired a auto(three wheeler) and drove from Lal-chowk to Ganeshbal-Ganesh mandir which happened to be the first spot of prayers while going for daily Parikrima of Hari-Parbat.The hall of Ganesh temple is renovated now. God loving people have done a good job. Ali Akbar, a guard among security men talked high about his contribution to its restoration work. I was surprised and patted him with a warm note. The Shiv –Linga and Mighty Ganesha magnificently stand in Pin drop silence . A few earthen lamps were placed readily wicked and soaked with ghee at one corner of the hall. I lit three of them with my heart broken prayers. I recollected, how our elders offered prayers at this temple. Some of them would drop in at nearest midnight. Those days, the prayers at the temple echoed with 'OM Ganishayee Namah!' The Guruje seated at the window facing towards adjacent path would have two or three mirror strips,sandoor& chandan tilaks, ghee lamps and a container full of Tulsee Amrit. The encroachments around surprise one in locating the entry to this temple. In the meanwhile, I went up the stairs of' Mukdam Sahib*.

'I saw a women going upstairs while crying and calling her woes. She was praying Sahib to punish those who troubled her. As,I entered the main Dargah,there were two priests who are called 'RESH'. One of them started reciting the formal crammed up prayer. Soon, the other one pricked him with fingers; 'Hatu Yeh chue ho' –He is that other one!. The former reluctantly continued while looking with curiosity at me. I took prakrama of the mausoleum and sat for contemplation for some time. Some unknown youngmen had some message. They came to see me and then left back. I put some offerings in the collection box and paid some notes to the haunting Reshis as labor for their murmured words. While taking round of the Dargah, one of the two Reshi's came across with a rosary and bag full of Shirin(white sugar coated balls usally offered as Tubruk in Sufi order) in left hand and hiding himself from his copartner silently spread his right hand for more money in exchange of a fist full of Shirin.The haunting priest got disappointed, for he could not exhaust my pockets any more. I bid my final salute at the exit point of shrine. The spot overlooks the crowded valley fuming with unpleasant smell*. The steps leading to the mausoleum paved in Devri stone are choked up by vendors, touts and beggers.The wares on sale were rosaries, hankerchiefs, white caps, durrets for Namaz, material for offering at the altar, low cost cosmetics and jewellary for ladies, poor stuffed pulses etc.

On my return at the footsteps of Ganesh temple, I wished to reenter the temple. The security guard Ali Akbar had left and closed the entrance to the temple. I tried helplessly to locate the bolt to open the door. A woman fakir clad in rags seated under a shaded tree was closely watching me. She shouted from distance,"Talken! Talken!"(The bolt is at bottom). It got opened. Perhaps it was ''Goddess " in person my guide. My prayer in silence within the hall led to transpiring words. The picture through mobile is the message that communes. It's blaze. Evil shall burn to ashes. The gleaming rays of Sunrise illuminating the hall was the nature's language for future hope. I had , but to come out. O, the only strip of land still left untouched is forted with Muslim confectionery shops. The shops were spread out to sell large fried oil soaked breads, dense reddish nadroo pakodas, some rough sweets etc.One or two restaurants are also come up. I had fast look around and left for the auto stand to stationed outside the age old monumental wall. On my way back, I recollected my track from chinkralmohalla to HariParbat which at times I would cover on wooden sleepers (Kraw) and on our way back we would break for playing cricket with willow sticks and wooden balls (Beeras) adjusant to a vast grave yard named Malkha.Yes,on my return ,I felt energized!. It is for, I had a feather touch of my roots.
*Mukdam Sahib-had been a highly elevated saint of Sufi oder.He sought his place for penance at feet of Goddess at HariParbat.Whenever,there would have any calamity, people from all faiths would come in mass and pray at His resting place. The prayers would get immediate results. Poor parents who could not afford bringing up children, would leave babies at steps of the shrine. Childless mothers would come and nurse them for adoption.

*Unpleasant smell-The author sensed negative vibrations during his visit. It smells like Demons dome, vultures hunger for dead bodies and smell of decomposed bodies. stationed outside the age old monumental wall.

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