Without Beginning Ever Existing

Rekha Tukra

Happy Herath Days are here again, night of ‘Hara’ – The Shiva

At the crack of dawn awoken by seagulls, nudging me with their squawking from seashore,

it drove me ‘sleepyhead’ out of my bed directly to balcony to peek at pristine turquoise sea, 

full of waves henceforth led seagulls out of inland to far water gradually they disappeared and sped. 

Whilst chuckled gazing into those currents, my mind effectively traversed ahead, 

the fog gate conjuring up another period in time, decades prior, 

suddenly all said characters came alive, 

elsewhere I saw parched birds slurping water holding twig in their beaks, 

above water their head frosty on an icy day and wet grey clouds overhead.

Once the ferries, the sailing boats anchored on harbour suddenly got replaced by wooden boats,

then I saw houseboats tied to its moorings instead of coast, I found myself drifted afloat in river, reaching to edge of riverbank of Downtown Srinagar,

seagulls had taken form of ducks and ducklings in a row paddling wavy water following their mother duck and drake with quack and trout 

“Lily and lotus flowers in nearby moat, kaleidoscope hues of flowers were a sight to behold and dote. 

Over the river was intricate carved wooden bridge on which horse tonga and passers-by in long coats”

Various small floating market boats were selling stock of mainly fresh Collard greens, where I overheard my grandmother and other ladies bargaining with the lady vendor to lower price of big bundles of lotus stems and clearly could hear vendor replying loudly with a grin, “these are Herath festival days, what do you expect. Demand of these vegetables are soaring so is the price’. “I know Shivratri is around the corner, but these are mere lotus stems not gold!” said my grandma in a high note. 

I caught sight of children, teens and women accompanied by relatives, all cleaning their brass pitchers and filling it with fresh water from the river then soaking whole walnuts into it. Afterwards, they also immersed handful of flowers plus let tea-light candles and diyas float in river fully lit, my Grandma yelling “come on, give me a hand and hurry up, it is pre celebration day of Herath”. I admit, we had to take pitcher/pot akin to God Shiva back home on auspicious time to install it in its ambit.”

“Best wedding of all eras, a big bash, splendour and opulence of Shiva – the lord of Lords

with Parvati Goddess of fertility, power, epitome of beauty, daughter of Himalaya’s God.”

Amid all the hullabaloo we followed our grandma like her entourage through busy narrow lanes, through the alleyways to reach the front gate of our dwelling with exponentially high excitement and furore. On entering, I directly saw my Mommy and Aunt mopping front veranda with special clay soil on eve of Shivratri, we could smell the earthy scent of wet clay similar like petrichor, when rain falls on dry soil.  Special cleaning and adorning were underway with ground rice flour and turmeric powder, a specific pattern was drawn on the floor.  Strict warning was issued not to step on the wet floor which all had to adhere to and not to be reprimanded later if found in breach. 

“The Holy Trinity, Lord Brahma himself discharged the duties of the divine priest while God Vishnu, undertook and coordinated preparations for 7-star banquet feast.”

Even though temperature was sub-zero, the ladies of our big joint family were tirelessly completing chores, preparing, and making arrangements for the mega festival of the year with tremendous fortitude and meticulousness. Today when I am myself at that juncture, being the lady of the household and in the same shoes as them, I can assimilate what it encompasses to do that quantum of work painstakingly. It was not fantasy or nuance of illusion but real reel rolling, and I was on the scene in all sequences.

Thereupon, we were giving rousing welcome with chants and mantras on threshold to announce with trumpet of conch, signifying the beginning of big epic fat wedding day celebrations of Lord Shiva and Parvati. All the floors of house mainly living, reception, sitting rooms were fully plush carpeted readied to host all our large joint family members and guests as it was almost like mini marriage gathering. 

The kitchen which stood on the second floor  was well equipped with cooking clay hearths on the right corner and gas burner hob/stove on other side with crockery, silverware and brassware nearby on shelves. Firewood logs burning underneath the hearth, on it traditional big bronze utensils simmering, in it different food and sideways mom sauté stir frying in a brass wok. 

Honestly, we all were blown over by whiff of wind infused with aroma of luxurious regal delicacies coming to our direction amplifying our insatiable appetite. 

“Maha Shivratri being a lavish affair in families celebrated it with enormous zeal and zest;

Shiva shakti were invited invoked worshiped and installed like supreme deities, VIP guest.”

Meanwhile in addition to overseeing the arrangements, my Daddy’s another entrusted job was to buy Shivratri Pooja material from potteries, groceries, and ration etc and to bring from Gulmarg Bilva triangular green leaves specially for offering to Shiva. Whilst all kids had a clique, were vivacious to take responsibility of peeling off petals of flowers, bulbs dry rose petals, winter roses, we girls made garlands. 

“The ordained Guru ji conductor of veneration must admit was no less than a pope delivering Christmas mass sermon; children then had no remote to press the fast forward button instead control mounting impatience to avoid called out moron.”

On the day of Shivratri, the waiting for the priest of our family clan Guru ji was the pivotal part of festivity and significantly compounded our restlessness by every minute, ultimately when he arrived it stoked the euphoric atmosphere, hiatus when he finally showed up hereafter plan was set to fruition. 

Elders, children alike bursting with happiness asked the priest to begin conducting veneration henceforth priest persuasively made us to chant hymns wholeheartedly. 

The intriguing, best part of Shivratri festival was to visit “Shankaracharya Temple” on “hur Ashtami”, following morning in the wee hours a rooster broke the dawn by its crowing. Likewise one of our ‘early bird’ cousin volunteered to wake us up for trekking to the temple as it was a ritual and customary to pay visit. Due to enthusiasm and earnestness we were unable to sleep besides not to miss new day adventure, subsequently asleep were woken from slumber by shouts “wake up time to get up and go”.

The Shankaracharya Temple nestled in a hill, surrounded by stunning countryside with fantastic views of the Dal Lake on the other side. Completely smitten, marching en route in twilight, we witnessed flock of birds flying away from withered trees to far sky, few hawkers in thick fog, milk maids and passers-by were cruising in the area to commence mundane day. After reaching the summit of hill we saw sunrise with rare phenomenon sight projecting Lord Shiva standing with his trident spear in hand on snow cladded Kailash mount in background solar rays halo nimbus appeared like a disc and crown. In the temple we poured pure water since God shiva is pleased with water and paid our obeisance. 

“Receiving gifts and cash wrapped in envelope (herath kharach) was like you hit the jack pot and gave tremendous joy and gratitude;

we will never grow out of the way that Salam Herath day made us feel, it was fervour fiesta event sort of carnival magnitude.”

Distribution of rice chapati with soaked walnut kernels as a sacrament culminating to completion of epic festival. The generation of lineage, moreover, it was all our prolific elders whose ardent faith was extremely paramount to keep these customary rituals continuing and paradigm of its essence. 

It is difficult to envisage this day when our elders, forefathers who lived all their lives in their own homes in fact would have been reluctant to ever vacate or go anywhere, were actually coerced, forced to renounce their flourished lives afterwards fearfully as a last resort relinquished their inheritance apparently everything collapsed like a house of cards, now our future remains murky. 

It is surreal, I can’t forget and will not forgive, those axe wielded vile nemesis who slashed our big blossomed huge tree, caused turbulence uprooted it from soil, sliced its branches which oozed blood, destroyed numerous nests, trembling fallen birds whimpered like fish out of water, underneath dead pile of leaves caught fire and burning ambers of dry wilted leaves doused our hopes, hearth and homes. It was inclined to trouble me to see deserted houses in dilapidated condition, emotions were running high because it was tell-tale sign of darkness to infinity, now it seems irreversible situation. 

I yearn to venture out to hover over once again on my homeland Kashmir just to follow trails of my grandparents and matriarchs, scrutinise my ancestral house for their marks, in case from those windowsills of second floor “Kaeni“ they usually set out their eyes in our wait, probably their spirits are still present there waiting us to return. Particularly I want to glance at shelves of our living rooms, supposing I can locate family photo frames, wall mount God Shiva of the family because in chaos and turmoil, they couldn’t gather or carry those souvenirs for keepsake. 

“To shake a leg, playing games rolling sea shells cowries (Haare) singing was fun, donning brand new clothes was kind of mandatory;

neither our towering personalities, kith and kin to guide nor homeland hearth now barely any enjoyment only tales, story of Herath’s glory.”

At current when we are all scattered and spread all over the world, personally I feel without family priest we hardly can perform veneration properly or accurately, moreover the essential steps, nitty gritty of rituals are compromised and some discrepancies remain.

Lastly, it is worth considering, to be seriously self-reliant, learn and then emphasise like a protagonist how to teach our children under tutelage of head of family and request them to necessarily attend these festivals, so they can carry legacy and our Kashmiri culture norms and unique customs to fore.