October 28, 2025

Beyond Words: A Bride from Kashmir

The year was 1982.

India was still a year away from winning the Cricket World Cup. Colour television had still not made it to the homes of ordinary Indians. The city was a long way off from being officially renamed as Mumbai. The population of India was on the good side of a billion. And I was yet to get married.

It was also the time I was managing the restaurant at a hotel in Bombay.

One Mahesh Reddy was a regular at the restaurant. Eating food alone is not every person’s forte and Mahesh liked chatting up a bit while he had his dinner.

A senior engineer with the ONGC, Mahesh had recently been transferred to Bombay and was allotted temporary accommodation in the hotel.

It was late after dinner service one night. Mahesh walked in for meals, while I was digging into my food.

He looked at me and smiled. “Some new project work at the office,” he rolled his eyes.

Without him asking, I asked the steward to serve him dinner too.

“May I join you?” he asked.

“If you don’t mind joining in,” I said, with a smile.

The steward served him dinner. And Mahesh was his usual chatty self, more so after a long day.

One thing led to another and he asked, “Where are you from?”

Kashmir.”

 And that one-word reply was enough to send the man into a wide smile.

Intrigued at first, I wondered what made him visibly so happy.

“So I have to tell you this,” he said, even as he balled up some rice and curry on his fingers.

“My father was in the army and made a lot of friends from different parts of India,” he said of now-retired Reddy Senior, Vasudev.

One of his former colleagues, Amar Nath, was a native of Kashmir and had invited Vasudev to come up north for a few days.

Retirement had given Vasudev ample time and he took the trip to India’s northernmost state.

Amar Nath lived in a remote picturesque mountainous village called Aergam with his wife, a son and a daughter.

Aergam was a hamlet of a few houses amidst trees of pine and cedar, overlooked by snowy peaks. It was away from urban civilisation with no road connection.

Vasudev, once there, soaked in the beauty and appreciated the simplicity of the people who lived a simple and healthy life there with fresh air and flowing water in abundance.

Amar Nath’s son, Naresh, was away while Vasudev was in Aergam, but his daughter, Radha, ensured that her father’s friend had a comfortable stay.

A beautiful young girl, Radha was tall with long tresses and gazelle-like eyes and came across as an innocent soul.

One morning, as Vasudev was enjoying the natural environs of the village, the hospitality of his friend and a sumptuous breakfast cooked by Radha, he asked Amar Nath if he intended to marry his daughter in the near future.

Amar Nath had a sheepish smile on his face. “Who wouldn’t want to, but… a suitable boy?” and Amar Nath’s voice had trailed off.

“There would be many who would want to marry her. She takes good care of the family, her home is beautiful,” Vasudev had said.

If it wasn’t for the tranquil, quiet surroundings of Aergam, Vasudev would have missed Amar Nath’s reply.

“She is illiterate. There was not even a primary school in the close vicinity of the village,” Amar Nath almost murmured.

The lack of development in rural Kashmir was depriving the younger generations of basic education, Amar Nath had explained.

Unperturbed, Vasudev told his friend that Radha was very intelligent and had all the virtues of a worldly-wise woman.

“I have been noticing her all these days and I am sure she will make her husband’s house a home,” he said.

“Amar Nath, in fact, I am thinking of her as a bride for my son, Mahesh. If you bless the couple, of course.”

The suddenness of the proposal and Vasudev’s nonchalance had taken Amar Nath by surprise.

Amar Nath reminded his friend that his son was a M. Tech engineer and Radha an unlettered girl.

“I am not sure how this would work. Moreover, why should Mahesh accept this proposal?” Amar Nath had said.

Vasudev looked at Radha, who after having finished the chores of the house, was now oiling her mother’s hair.

“I know my son well, Amar Nath,” Vasudev said. “He will never go against my wishes.”

Vasudev asked Amar Nath to set aside his apprehensions.

“I don’t mind calling my son Mahesh and seeking his consent,” Vasudev had said.

Amar Nath reluctantly accepted his friend’s proposal. He became nervous but at the same time prayed for Radha to be lucky enough to get married to Mahesh.

Three days later, Mahesh arrived from Dehradun, where he was posted.

The whole thing was a new experience for Mahesh too. Amar Nath and his family welcomed the young, good-looking engineer.

He was introduced to Radha formally. As conservative traditions prevailed, Mahesh could not meet Radha alone but was mesmerised by her looks and demeanour.

He agreed to this proposal and considered himself fortunate to have such a beautiful girl as a life partner.

The date was finalised. Marriage was to be solemnised two months later.

Vasudev and Mahesh left for Secunderabad to make the necessary preparations.

Two months flew by and Vasudev and Mahesh, with their nearest kith and kin, arrived in Aergam with fanfare. The guests enjoyed the stay in Kashmir and Amarnath’s hospitality.

After completing the rituals, Mahesh, along with Radha and his guests, left for Secunderabad via Jammu.

The Jammu-Secunderabad train was running late by a few hours and all the guests scattered here and there on the station, awaiting the train.

Mahesh finally had some time alone with Radha. He tried starting a conversation. He was conversant in English and Telugu, his mother tongue and had working knowledge of Hindi.

“Finally, we can talk in peace,” Mahesh said with a smile as he looked at Radha.

Radha just looked at him with a smile.

“I am an engineer, as you may have known by now. What do you do?”

A few gestures later, Radha said something, which sounded much like the Kashmiri he had heard during his time in Aergam.

His stream of questions met with either a smile or replies in Kashmiri from Radha.

Mahesh didn’t want to even think of a life where he couldn’t converse with his wife.

The wait at the station spelt frustration. He could not believe that he had married someone, who seemed to be a nonstarter for marital bliss.

Throughout the train journey, relatives and friends let Mahesh and Radha be. But the two spoke nothing. Radha out of shyness, Mahesh out of frustration, having tried starting a conversation earlier.

Train reached Secunderabad late in the evening on the second day. Radha was received at her new home after performing the set rituals by Mahesh’s mother.

Their tiredness meant little for curious relatives and neighbours, who wanted to meet the new bride.

The fact that she didn’t speak their language didn’t seem to matter to the visitors, because after all, newlywed brides were not expected to say anything.

Eventually, everyone managed to retire to their respective rooms. The excitement of the wedding night had lost its steam for Mahesh, who regretted having acceded to his father’s wish.

He now seemed to have a life with a woman who was stunningly pretty but disabled as far as conversation was concerned.

Tiredness from the long journey had put both to sleep.

Next day, Mahesh got up late and just when he thought that his marital future looked bleak, he saw Radha approaching with an infectious smile and tea for Mahesh.

She mumbled something, pointed at the clock and her gestures and expressions were enough to let Mahesh know that it was late in the morning.

She handed over tea to him and sat next to him in the mood, looking at Mahesh affectionately.

After a while, on the breakfast table, everyone seemed happy, having relished the food that Radha cooked.

His mother told him that Radha had entered the kitchen early and started to make the relevant preparations.

Gestures were good enough to start a conversation with Mahesh’s mother.

On one hand, Mahesh was getting flustered about his future with Radha, while on the other his family seemed to be growing fond of her with each passing hour.

A stream of guests kept flowing in and Mahesh thanked his stars that he had to stay away from his wife.

In the evening, some of his friends came to see the newlywed couple. They all praised her looks and humility.

They insisted on a party.

Mahesh just found a way out to stay away from Radha and accepted.

As usual, a party with friends meant banter and drinks. A frustrated Mahesh had gone for a few extra drinks by the end of the night.

On reaching home, Mahesh went straight to the bedroom, despite his mother insisting on having dinner.

He was in no mood.

Having finished her domestic chores, a smiling Radha came to the bedroom.

She said something, perhaps trying to ask Mahesh about his unwillingness to have dinner. But Mahesh had no answer.

She, however, did understand that something was wrong with Mahesh as the effects of alcohol were visible on his face and he was repeatedly touching his temples.

Radha went close to Mahesh and soon started massaging Mahesh’s head.

She was so close to him that he could smell her raw rustic fragrance of youth. She could smell the alcohol.

He felt some relief as she massaged her head and when he opened his eyes, she was trying to say something.

A few moments later, he heard the words, “Sharaab kharaab.”

That was the first time he perhaps understood anything she said.

These words – sharaab and kharaab – are perhaps two of the most common words in Hindi and need no formal education to speak or understand.

“She said something and I understood… it just meant a lot to me,” Mahesh told me, while we sat there, having finished our meals but not having washed our hands.

“It was almost a Gospel for me. My joy knew no bounds.”

“My instinct told me that maybe it was her father, who being an army man, liked his drinks a bit too much. She must have seen the bickering in the family.”

Mahesh later told me how he saw those two words as a strong foundation for his matrimonial life.

Since he was posted at Dehradun. He promised his parents and Radha that he would take his wife along once he found suitable accommodation there.

After days of looking around the new town, he found a Kashmiri family, who owned a large bungalow.

It belonged to a retired Kashmiri Pandit professor, who had taken Dehradun as his abode after retirement.

Initially, the couple refused to hire out their space as they wanted to live in solitude.

Mahesh told them about his situation.

“I want you to guide my wife to learn the worldly nuances and a common language,” he told them.

After taking notice of his predicament, they invited him into their world and in a few days later Radha joined him.

The Kashmiri couple were only too happy to take Radha under their wings. She found someone to talk to fluently and they found a young daughter-like companion.

As for Mahesh, he was only too happy to see Radha improve her conversational skills.

The picturesque location of Dehradun, Radha’s efforts and Mahesh’s positivity, he could see his dreams for marital bliss coming true.

He latched on to every word she said, found love in it.

“Radha and I now have conversations,” an elated Mahesh told me while we washed our hands.

“I have now received a transfer to Bombay.”

“Guidance from the Kashmiri couple in Dehradun has done wonders for her. I was wondering how I could find a similar arrangement that I had in Dehradun here.”

“By God’s grace, I found you.”

He looked at me, even as I was unsure of what he would ask of me.

“Radha will soon be coming to Bombay and I shall find a place closer to where you stay. Will you be kind enough to be her guide?” Mahesh asked me.

Mahesh’s story was full of emotion and drama. I agreed to help him in every possible way.

To celebrate this new friendship, I invited him to meet again the next evening for a couple of drinks and then dinner.

“Let’s meet up but only for dinner,” Mahesh told me with a smile.

I was a bit surprised, before he said, “Sharaab kharaab.” 

Chand Bhat began his journey over five decades ago in Kashmir. With a career spanning the hospitality industry and film production, he later embraced his passion for community work by taking over as Editor of Milchar, the magazine of the Kashmiri Pandits’ Association, Mumbai. A dedicated member of the association for more than twenty years, he continues to contribute actively to its social and cultural initiatives.

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