by K.N. Koul

Kamlawati Kachru

Smt. Kamlawati Kachru (maiden name Radha) was born in the family of Kouls (nicknamed as Bonis), residents of Reshi Mohalla, Habbakadal Srinagar. Her birthday as per tithi is Kartik Shukla Paksh Dwadashi and the birth year approximately around 1905. Her father namely Shri Gopi Nath Koul died at his tender age of 28 and the duty of bringing up the family fell on her mother Mader Dedi and others. The family besides Mader dedi consisted of her son Mohan Lal Koul and two sisters Kamlawati Kachru married in Kachru family and Bader Dedi married in the family of Kotwals at Sathu Srinagar. Shri Gopi Nath and Mader Dedi were pious souls engrossed in spirituality and meditation and this aspect got reflected in the daughters. Both used to be engrossed in singing Bhajans and Meditation. The sisters later came under the influence of Swami Govind Kaul and accepted him as their spiritual preceptor.

Kamlawati is reported to have once been in her exalted state of Samadhi in a religious gathering at Wanpoh village in Anantnag, where Swami Ji lived, when participants accosted Swami Govind Kaul to name his successor. He reportedly pointed his finger towards Kamlawati Ji and thus pronounced her as his successor. Badri Dedi who was equally advanced in her kriya yoga in her compositions said about her:
 Chie hai oosukh hani haney' Radhai kodkha waney'
 Row udai gow puri kaney'
 Pravi payi tas maney
 Tas prazilyokh hani haney.
Kamlawati was exalted in Sadhna and as she told this writer she helped spiritually Pt. Prithvi Nath Ji and many others. And, when her companion Bhawani Bagyawan Pandit lost her husband and she felt unperturbed, she was admonished by Kamlawati ji to have Maryada Palan like Ram Ji and others. Bhagyawan Dedi as she was called did as she was told and had the maryadaaspect taken care of. Both disciples loved and respected each other. Kamlawati ji at one time started to compose spiritual Bhajans, but Swami Ji admonished her not to do so. Swami Ji told her that what he composed was all hers and she could recite the same. Swami Ji felt his and her soul as one and as such disallowed her to say anything further. That is the reason that there are no separate compositions on her behalf. Bhagyawani Ji has said about Kamlawati Ji in one of her compositions published on page 135 of her book Man Pamposh as;

Chakhai Shakti kini chakh Rajraniyey,kini chakh meyani beniyey chi,
Bhagyawan aisi kuni Zaniyey, tas nishi drayakh naniyey Chi
(The whole Bhajan is on Kamlawati Ji)
There is an Ashram at Mahinder Nagar that stands dedicated to the memory of Swami Ji, Kamlawati and Pt. Prithvi Nath Ji where important functions ofYagnya and birthdays of these great souls are organised regularly. Kamlawati was keen to ensure that all bhajans composed by Swami Ji got published and to that effect obtained and handed over original manuscripts to this writer for sifting purposes. Those which had been missing from earlier publications got thus published in fourth edition of Amrit Vani series. She also felt keen for publication of Badri Dedi's Bhajans which task she again assigned to this writer after the manuscript was compiled and prepared by Shri Bansi Lal Kotwal. Badri Dedi's son and disciple of Swami Ji.  

by Sh. K.N. Koul

It was March 1947 and I felt a longing to pay a visit to Hardwar. There was no clear picture as to what was happening down in plains, except sketchy news in broad contours that was getting through the borders.  Hari Singh, Maharaja of Jammu and Kashmir, had yet to exceed to union of India or Pakistan. Precise division of territories between India and Pakistan had yet to be known. Sheikh Sahib was fully committed to nationalism, and did not subscribe to policies adopted by Jinnah. Jinnah on the other hand did not want to have Pakistan without Kashmir and not to accept division, without this State. In last moments being disgruntled, he was thinking of approaching Nehru for being ready to agree to United India.

Jinnah had his ego as well to sustain. He thought, that he was great enough to form a country by the name Pakistan, a holy land, which Muslims, he thought, would love to have, and for which he had struggled a lot. Jinnah equally felt keen to get a place of honour, in history, for having initiated and being successful in having a separate homeland. Maharaja of Kashmir, Jinnah felt, was sure to join only India and envisaged Pakistan in no case. Sheikh Sahib had cast his dye with Nehru and contributed to the slogan “Sheikh Sahib Ka Kya irshad, Hindu Muslim Sikh Itehad” Jinnah was therefore, justified in his chaotic thinking. He could  not be decisive either, with regard to adoption of any methodology to fulfil his objective. He had deceit and nefarious ways, in his mind, as the only way, to annex Kashmir. He wanted the territory, somehow and/or any way. At the same time Jinnah was nervous and felt unfavourable circumstances abounding him all over. How to deal with Sheikh Sahib, was equally a dilemma for Jinnah and he did not know precisely as to how to deal with the former.
          
Sheikh Sahib’s, policies created in our minds a feeling of safety visa-a-vis communal hooliganism in various parts of India. With mind and thinking being conditioned as per the prevailing circumstances in Kashmir, we felt some measure of safety and proceeded on 5th of March 1947, by bus, to Rawalpindi. We were to board train there for Saharanpur, where we were to reroute ourselves for Hardwar. We were oblivious to conditions that we were throwing ourselves into. I was asked to take along my grandmother and an old relative, who were equally anxious to have Ganga snan.

We reached Uri and bus driver decided to stay there for the night. He was known and as such, obliged us by leading to a temple. People travelling to Rawalpindi stayed generally there overnight. We obeyed and condescended to position prevailing. We could hardly have even a wink of sleep. The pujari had warned, to be careful, as anybody could drop in, with a view to steal. He would say repeatedly “Bua band kar dena” and we could hardly make out as to what he meant by bua,-the gate. In the morning out of our enthusiasm, we were the first to reach the place where our bus had stopped for the night.

The onward bus journey was somewhat onerous, especially when we started ascending the hill leading to Muree. We had option to proceed via Abottabad, but since route via Muree, was clear, bereft of snow and nearer as well, we preferred this route in comparison to Abbotabad. At Muree we had our lunch. A number of sardars and others were managing small eateries and we found rajmah chawal more or less congenial to our taste. From Muree we started ascending the hill and were in Rawalpindi in the afternoon of 6th March. We stayed in a dharamsala, in one of the Hindu dominated areas and felt better after having rice and potatoes and cauliflower as our menu for dinner. We had carried a small kerosene stove and that was useful for the purpose.  

As night started, there were communal riots, and hell broke down on us all. All sort of cries vitiated the sky and everybody felt unsafe and fearful. Cries of “Nalai Taqbir” reciprocated by the slogan “Har har Mahadev” raked the sky all over. Gun shots were heard from opposite sides and these instilled fear all around. Some bullets even crossed over our heads. People of the locality prepared for all possible eventualities.  Gun holders formed the vanguard in marches undertaken by young men, and the rest in the back wielded lathies. We being on the roof were asked to store stones for throwing if attackers could be nearer. The night was fearful and agony stood writ large on all faces. There were reports, that trains in Lahore and other places, were being searched for Hindus, who if found, were massacred. Hindus were reported doing likewise in trains around Delhi and bound for Pakistan. Question of our proceeding for Lahore did not arise. We were keen to get back to Kashmir by any possible means. We were also joined here, by two pundit gentlemen who wanted to run back along with us.

Next day position was a little better, and I along with some local people was able to reach, transport market, where I contacted a known Kashmiri Pundit, who was established in transport business. He booked for us two taxis with Kashmiri Muslim drivers. They promised to proceed early morning next day and pass Chaklala Cant. in early morning darkness. To our dismay, nobody turned up that early, and we could do nothing, but to wait. The drivers however, turned up around 10 O’clock and asked us to board the taxis. They also assured to help us under all circumstances. We felt reassured, and boarded the taxis for our back home journey.

We had to change our disguise for being recognised and the problem seemed to be not that easy. We wrapped grandmother with a white sheet with her eyes only visible. Others purchased fur caps from a Kashmiri shop which had just opened for a while.  With the dress we felt better placed and started for our onward journey. Just while we were crossing the Cantonment, a group of Pathans stopped our taxis and started questioning our drivers. They were equipped with all sorts of gadgets for the kill.  Kudos to our drivers, who swore by the name of Quran, that we were all Muslims and if they wanted to kill their brethren, they would not be following their religion. They desisted from taking action and allowed us to proceed.

Somehow we reached Muree. The place wore a deserted look. All non-Muslims had either been killed or had run away. I was a non-smoker but with a pack of 50 cigarettes was smoking without respite not knowing what else to do. The drivers decided to have tea much to our discomfiture, and I kept on smoking till they were free. All looked at us unsuspectingly. Perhaps they could not expect any non Muslim to be in the taxis. The drivers also played their part to save us. We started onwards to reach Kohalla. The ascent from Muree was as usual convenient. En route we found two Pathans wearing clipped human heads, round their necks, which sight was repugnant. An Englishman travelling ahead called them, and questioned as to why they were holding on to these human heads, which were dirty and smelling nasty. One remarked, without remorse, that they wanted to show, as to how many of our enemies were killed and felt happy for the same. The Englishman looked bewildered and left thereafter, without uttering a word.

We crossed Kohalla Bridge and heaved a sigh of relief. After crossing, we found cadets busy with their drill getting perhaps military training to fight Maharaja’s dogra army. Something to dislodge Maharaja was brewing to take place.

We reached Srinagar in the evening. People got round us to have news as to what was happening down in plains. We thanked our drivers and rewarded them with cash for saving our lives

We suffered from nightmares for a long time and feel so nostalgic about the events even now. We shall never think of Rawalpindi any time here after.

by Sh. K.N. Koul

Kashmir has been victim of tragedies, recent one being of international magnitude. There have been massacres such as Wandhama and Sangrampura. Men in large numbers have been killed and women raped and properties usurped by the majority community. All this has been done in tandem with nefarious machinations of our neighbour. Kashmiri pundits have been subjected to atrocious communal violence and forced to migrate from Kashmir on an unprecedented scale. People having no specific place to go landed mostly at Jammu where they were asked to stay in tents. In intense heat some died being unable to bear the miserable situation. Some were bitten by snakes and died.  Some experienced suffering on account of diseases unknown. Government attitude was unfortunately   apathetic and so has been the attitude of International community. While happenings in Europe echoed everywhere and related questions, for solutions, were raised in forums like United Nations, about pundits not a word was heard from any of these sources. It has indeed been a sad and tearful story.

While at macro level so much has been thrown out by various sufferers, at micro level much is still to come. This writer therefore, desires to say something that took place with him and his family.

The writer was born, brought up, educated and later married in Kashmir. He got service in Kashmir in an Institute that had its spread all our India. As such, he got frequent transfers and had to serve his employers in far flung areas of this country. The writer, in the circumstances, could not think of settling till he retired from service in 1983. He had intense longing to be in Kashmir, which he called his motherland. He intensely felt to settle somewhere in Srinagar and have a house at the place. Though communal virus had started surfacing here and there, the writer and his family had delusional belief and a feeling that everything will settle down. There used to be communal riots in the past but communities would patch up and events would cool down. They had been living as such during centuries together. During riots, though properties were affected here and there, not a single killing or raping was there. The majority community always desisted from such vices and adjustments took place with return of peace and normalcy in course of time.

The writer purchased land for housing in 1987, around thousand yards, at Qayum colony Rawalpura situated on old airport road. The land was orchard land with apple and many other plump luscious fruit bearing trees. Some such trees were left untouched in the hope to have sweet fruit in years to come. The boundary wall was completed all over except on one side where a treacherous neighbour with evil designs on our land lived. The stone demarcation was however built up indicating our possession on that side. The teething trouble relating to boundary was overcome and issues settled with surrender or acquisition of land here and there. The greedy neighbour was trying to declare himself as a cultivator so that he could be a tenant with rights in a portion of land. He was fought and such rights disallowed to him legally and otherwise.

In 1988 the family thought of construction of a house. A contractor named Maqbool with his short name as Maga was chosen for the purpose. Maga had his tantrums and had to be tactfully tackled. He would holiday for a large number of days and my plans would get disturbed delaying schedules. The writer also had to move to villages in search of good and reliable materials, undergoing a hard life never experienced ever before.  Once, while pulling up wheel of his car from a ditch, created by an uprooted fruit tree, the writer got his spinal cord muscles pulled up and had to work with writhing pain.

He would lie down on a spread sheet of cloth just on bare ground. The writers’ absence would mean stoppage of work in which case the workers would move elsewhere and create affiliations there. Coaxing them to work at their erstwhile site posed difficulties.

The construction got ready around Nov. 1989 and all essential items, from our rented house, were shifted thereto. Meanwhile, nefarious plans of the majority community reached their pinnacle and difficulties for Pundits increased manifold. Declaration of bandhs and hartals became frequent and plying of vehicles by our members became difficult. Cries of Nallai Taqbir filled the sky everywhere. Once writer’s car was attacked, with stones, and glass panes, lights and mudguards etc broken. The car was damaged badly. The attackers were ready to attack the writer and his grandson aged 10, when the Muslim driver and an electrician, who occupied front seats, rose up and saved us. The child was bleeding perhaps hit by glass pieces scattered all over. At another time, a three wheeler who wilfully touched his vehicle with ours stopped us and started rebuking and asking for damages; there were none as per our assessment. The writer forcefully drove out of the murky atmosphere, but the rickshaw driver followed to his residence. There some Muslim friends drove him back, telling him that there were no damages to his vehicle and that his claim was unjust and frivolous.

When on foot, we tried to avoid awe inspiring roads and bridges. We used by lanes and crossed river Jhelum by boats. While leaving, boatman or others in the boat threw pebbles at our backs treating us heathens, or kafirs or infidels. In Mecca they do so at a particular place where they say that a Shetan deserving a stone lives there.  The atmosphere appeared tense, and the writer thought shifting of family out of the valley. The place, made hellish by our erstwhile brethren, seemed unliveable and this was done on priority basis. The writer learned later, that the bus carrying his family members was attacked by mobs at three places and the passengers thought it to be their end. The police escort with the bus however, saved the situation at all places by their intervention

Being alone and having no place to stay the writer decided to stay in the newly built house for some days and then to decide what to do. Idea was to do something towards watch and ward of the property just created and then to follow children who had already left. Looking however to surroundings my pundit neighbours had already left and the place for the writer looked desolate. He however, took courage and stayed at the house asking the driver to be with him which the man obediently did.

Some Muslim neighbour who had worked for the writer’s house called on him and told him to leave the place as early as possible. They said that the writer was exposed to elimination and death because he was a pundit. It was fear and fear all over and the writer did not know what to do. I t was equally desolation and wilderness that was heart throbbing. The writer decided to pass the awful night and leave early morning. Fear was all over, and sounds emanating from any source caused consternation and the feeling, lest anybody with designs to kill was there to execute his foul designs. It was truly a night of wilderness both within and outside.

Early morning the writer packed up and asked the driver to attend to his car and take to the wheel. A known Muslim neighbour met us and informed that there was a scuffle in which Maga who was now Assistant Commandant and in-charge of the area had been captured by CRP and put behind the bars. He had some days before shot dead four Air Force Officers. These officers were waiting at the nearby chowk for their army vehicle to take them to their offices. The atmosphere had worsened all the more in the area.

The writer while leaving had a lasting look at the house and its surroundings. He saw about hundred or so birds perched on the balcony and other places of the house. These birds mostly ‘bulbuls’ were chirping perhaps telling people that they also had lost their habitat which meant fruit trees in their case. Never the less they looked pleasing to the eye, though these had a common problem vis-a-vis fleeing Pundits from the area.

It was 1^st December 1989, we proceeded towards Jammu. Road looked desolate with fear and awe everywhere. At Qazigund   Dogra shops which provided food and essentials to tourists were closed. We had a cup of tea from some Sardar Ji and proceeded further so as to leave the boundary of wilderness and be somewhere in Jammu territory. We made it and heaved a sigh of relief. The losses incurred were however, eating our vitals inside, with no way to console ourselves.                  

In Retrospect

Much water has flown down the river bringing in its wake consequent changes. Some are good and some bad. We got enmeshed with diverse communities. Our boys married girls from outside our community and so has been done by our girls. We have lost our singular and cohesive identity as a community. We are now neither here nor there, rather not anywhere. The writer feels this to be our greatest loss.

A friend met Maga in Jammu jail. Maga was in tears. He said that he was living a lavish life with a chicken at his dinner every day and was now leading a wretched jail life. He cursed his Jihadist advisers who he said put him in the wrong and gave false hopes.

The writer visited Kashmir in 1993, and in company of police escort paid a visit to the house. He found a family living there rearing sheep in one bed room and kitchen. His son had been killed by the Army and Jihadists had handed him over, this house including the attached land as compensation. There was awful smell coming from all sides and none from outside could stand to it. The house stands sold distressfully for a small sum and has now been brought to its envisaged shape by its lucky purchaser.