KASHMIRI PANDITS IN BHADERWAH

                                                            

                                                   ( Dussehra In Bhaderwah Photo D K Dogra )

KASHMIRI PANDITS IN BHADERWAH

 

Bhaderwah is a mountain valley town in Doda district within the Union Territory of Jammu and Kashmir. Located approximately 80 km from Batote, the town occupies a high-altitude basin characterised by alpine meadows and dense coniferous forests. Like the Kashmir Valley, Bhaderwah has four distinct seasons: the snowy winter, pleasant spring with greenery and flowers, mild summers, and golden autumn when every leaf becomes a flower. The onset of spring coincides with the beginning of a vibrant festive period in the district. Among the region’s most significant religious events is the Kailash Yatra, an important Hindu pilgrimage that draws devotees from across northern India and contributes to the area’s ritual landscape.

Climatically, Bhaderwah offers relatively mild summers, with temperatures typically ranging between 18°C and 32°C, distinguishing it from the hotter plains of northern India. This temperate climate, combined with dramatic mountain scenery, positions the valley as a seasonal retreat.

Often referred to as “Chhota Kashmir” (Little Kashmir), Bhaderwah is noted for its striking natural beauty and composite cultural fabric shaped by diverse communities and long-standing traditions. Local fairs, seasonal festivals, and agrarian practices remain integral to public life, reflecting a dynamic interaction between ecology, belief, and social identity. In Bhaderwah, one finds Kashmiri Pandits, Kashmiri-speaking Muslims, Gaddis, Thakkars, Wazirs, Dogras, Kotwals, Parihars, Chib Rajputs, Manhas Rajputs, Khatris, Mahajans, and Bhaderwahi-speaking locals of other tribes and castes living in peace and harmony. It may reasonably be described as a melting pot of cultures and civilisations. Bhaderwah has a high literacy rate across all communities. The Government Degree College was started in the town in 1955 during the rule of Bakshi Ghulam Mohammad. The University of Jammu has its Campus in Bhaderwah.

Migration of Kashmiri Artisans

Recurring famines in Kashmir, especially the devastating famine of 1877–79, played a critical role in accelerating the migration of the Kashmiri Muslims. Starvation deaths, economic collapse, and lack of subsistence forced many artisan families to seek survival outside Kashmir. While heavy taxation on shawl production under successive regimes did contribute to hardships, it was not the primary driver. Rather, state patronage in Punjab (which included areas of the Western Himalayas), combined with famine-induced distress, made migration both attractive and necessary for Kashmiri Muslim artisans. The 19th-century migration of Kashmiri Muslim artisans—especially shawl weavers—to Punjab and the erstwhile Western Himalayan hilly states can largely be attributed to external invitation and opportunity. After conquering Kashmir in 1819, Maharaja Ranjit Singh actively encouraged skilled Kashmiri weavers to relocate to Punjab, particularly to Amritsar and Lahore, to establish and strengthen the shawl industry there. His policy aimed at harnessing their renowned craftsmanship for the prosperity of the Sikh Empire. Following the British annexation of Punjab in 1849, colonial authorities further supported the settlement of these artisans. The British sought closer supervision of production and easier access to export markets, providing relatively stable commercial conditions compared to the uncertainty of the Valley.

 Historically, Bhaderwah was an important town on the old Shawl Route of Kashmir. This route extended from Srinagar – Anantnag – Daksum – Kishtwar – Bhaderwah –Sarthal- Basohli – Chamba, and onward to the hilly kingdoms of the present-day Himachal Pradesh. During the nineteenth century, Kashmiri shawl weavers and craftsmen travelled along this route to Basohli, Jasrota, Nurpur, Chamba and the plains of Punjab adjoining the Western Himalayas. The Basohli area of Kathua district has had a long-standing relationship with Kashmir. The pashmina shawl industry continues to flourish in Basohli town to this day. Even the Rajas of Jasrota (Kathua) patronised Kashmiri craftsmen, particularly shawl-weavers.

Migration and Settlement of Kashmiri Pandits

The migration of Kashmiri Pandits followed a different trajectory. The Pandits largely moved out due to suppression during the Mughal and Afghan rule in the Kashmir valley. Pandits who migrated were often well versed in scriptures, astrology, Sanskrit, Persian, manuscript writing and religious miniature art.

According to the noted writer Bashir Bhadarwahi, Raja Partap Singh of the Pal dynasty visited Kashmir for education and subsequently invited several learned Pandit families to Bhaderwah. Appointed as Rajgurus (royal priests and advisers), these families were granted agricultural land by the ruling house. Patterns of landholding established during this period continued for generations and shaped the socio-economic standing of the community.

Bhaderwah also served as a transitional refuge for families moving further south into the hilly states across the Ravi River. The migration routes extended through Basohli into Chamba and adjoining territories. As a result, Kashmiri Pandit lineages of similar origin are found across the Ravi in various towns of the present-day Himachal Pradesh, preserving surnames, ritual practices, and elements of linguistic heritage tied to their ancestral homeland.

One distinguished lineage associated with this migration was the Raina family. From this family emerged renowned painters such as Shiv Raina, Nainsukh, Manaku, Nikka, Ranjha and many more who played a transformative role in the development of Pahari miniature art in the courts of Basohli, Guler, Jasrota, Nurpur, Chamba and many other hilly kingdoms. Their artistic achievements remain among the most significant cultural legacies of the Kashmiri diaspora in the western Himalayas.

Cultural Continuity and Social Integration

Over successive generations, the Kashmiri Pandits of Bhaderwah maintained their linguistic, ritual, and religious traditions while gradually assimilating elements of local Bhaderwahi culture. Interactions with neighbouring communities fostered a distinctive yet composite regional identity that balanced continuity with adaptation. The community became prominent in education, administration, scholarship, jurisprudence, literature, public service, and political leadership. Several families produced individuals who left a lasting imprint on the civic and intellectual life of Bhaderwah and beyond.

Key Families and Fields of Contribution

The Koul Family

The Koul family has been associated with scholarship, education, and public life.

Ruchir Kumar Koul, Mandal President of the Bharatiya Janata Party in Bhaderwah, was a prominent community leader whose assassination by jihadi terrorists in 1994 marked a significant moment in the town’s contemporary history. Professor Pritam Krishan Koul distinguished himself as a historian and author, notably through his scholarly work, Himalayan Principalities in Jammu, Kangra and Bhadarwah. Professor Shiv Kumar Koul and Mrs Krishna Koul contributed to education by establishing a senior secondary institution in Bhaderwah.

The Razdan Family

Faqir Chand Razdan was associated with the Bharatiya Jana Sangh and served as President of the Sanatan Dharma Sabha in Bhaderwah. Manjit Razdan, an advocate and political leader linked to the Bharatiya Janata Party, has served in party leadership roles at the Union Territory level. He was also an independent director on the Board of Directors of State Trading Corporation. Professor Kameshwar Nath Razdan is recognised locally for fostering progressive intellectual engagement. Pushkar Nath Razdan served in the judicial services. Varinder Razdan served as President of Sanatan Dharm Sabha

The Mattoo Family

Sham Lal Mattoo and Maharaj Krishan Mattoo served as principals of educational institutions. Advocate Rishi Kumar Mattoo founded a higher secondary school in Udhampur. Lal Chand Sharma (Mattoo) ‘Amar’ earned recognition as a poet, and his son Chander Kant Sharma ‘Amardeep’ continued this literary and educational tradition.

Saraf Family

*Sanjay Saraf is presently the District General Secretary of the BJP in Doda.

The Rajguru Family

Traditionally associated with hereditary priestly functions, the Rajguru family maintained ceremonial responsibilities historically linked to offerings attributed to the Mughal emperor Akbar to the deity Vasuki Nag through Raja Nag Pal in 1580 AD. Dr Sanjeev Kaul, researcher in mushroom cultivation, belongs to this family.

The Zutshi Family

Daya Nand Zutshi served as Vice Principal of St. Xavier’s School, Delhi, before founding a travel enterprise in New Delhi and establishing Surya Hotel, one of Bhaderwah’s early modern hotels. The hotel is presently managed by his son, Ravi Zutshi.

The Saraf and Dhar Families

Members of these families have been active in public administration, political organisation, and social service at district and regional levels.

Conclusion

The Kashmiri Pandits of Bhaderwah constitute a historically rooted, culturally resilient, and socially influential community. Emerging from waves of migration shaped by political upheavals in Kashmir, they consolidated their presence as scholars, priests, landholders, educators, administrators, artists, and public leaders. Their legacy extended beyond Bhaderwah, forming part of a broader Himalayan narrative that linked the Kashmir Valley with the erstwhile hilly kingdoms across the Ravi River. Through sustained contributions to religion, education, scholarship, public service, literature, law, politics, and social life, the Kashmiri Pandits of Bhaderwah have played an enduring role in shaping the intellectual and cultural landscape of the place.

 (Avtar Mota)

PS

Apart from my personal visits to the place, I remain indebted to D. K. Dogra (author, photographer, prolific traveller, my esteemed friend, and former colleague in the bank) for providing specific details about the Kashmiri Pandit families of Bhaderwah. Without his support and assistance, this write-up would not have been possible.

 

CHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.
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INTERPRETING A COUPLET OF MIR TAQI MIR ( 1723-1810)

                                            

INTERPRETING A COUPLET OF   MIR TAQI MIR ( 1723-1810)

Mir Taqi Mir's poetry is a reflection of life's complexities. Exploring themes of love, loss, and the human condition, his verses are a blend of emotional depth and philosophical insight. Through his verses, Mir invites readers to introspect and seek truth. He was one of the principal poets of the Delhi School of the Urdu Ghazal and is often remembered as one of the greatest poets of the Urdu language. Ghalib considered him a great master when he said," Rekhte ke tum hi ustaad nahin ho Ghalib, Kehte hain agle zamaane mein koyi Mir bhi tha ". Mir spent the latter part of his life in the court of Nawab  Asaf-ud-Daulah in Lucknow. Let me take up the couplet for interpretation through various prisms of thought.

Bekhudi le gayi kahaan hum ko

Der se intezaar hai apna  ......Mir Taqi Mir 

(The selflessness  brought by  this intoxication  has brought me to a strange place, 

While I am  waiting since long time to meet my real self.)

Bekhudi" denotes a state of being lost in the external world, resulting in the forgetfulness of one's true Self , rather than mere intoxication. Urdu poetry employs "Bekhudi" with varied connotations; for instance, Mir's interpretation appears to lean towards longing, whereas Ghalib's treatment is more nuanced, and Iqbal's perspective differs from both. The multiple interpretations of "Bekhudi" in Urdu poetry underscore the complexity of this concept within various traditions. Mir Taqi Mir's couplet "Bekhudi le gai kahaan humko, Der se intezaar hai apna" resonates profoundly with the philosophical underpinnings of Advaita Vedanta and the Upanishads.

Mir's usage of "Bekhudi" captures the jiva's (individual self) immersion in worldly experiences, leading to the obscuration of its true nature (Atman), and the consequent yearning to reconnect with it ("apna"). This aligns with the Advaita Vedantic notion of realising one's true Self (Atman) as non-dual Brahman.

The couplet captures the human condition of being lost in the external world (māyā) and forgetting one's true Self (Atman), only to yearn for it later. In Advaita Vedanta, this true Self (Atman) is identical with the ultimate reality, Brahman. The jiva's (individual self) journey is to transcend ignorance (avidya) and realize its true nature.

The Upanishads, foundational texts of Advaita Vedanta, proclaim "Tat Tvam Asi" (Thou art That), emphasising the non-dual nature of Atman and Brahman. Mir's "apna" signifies this inner Self, the Atman, which is beyond the realm of duality and the influences of maya. The longing for "apna" reflects the soul's innate desire to reconnect with its true, supreme nature.

In Advaita, this realisation dawns through knowledge (Gyana) and renunciation (vairagya). As Shankaracharya, a key proponent of Advaita, states, "Brahma satyam jagan mithya" (Brahman is real, the world is unreal). The jiva's search for "apna" is essentially the search for Brahman, the ultimate reality.

Nagarjuna, the founder of Madhyamaka Buddhism, would perhaps view this couplet through the lens of emptiness (shunyata). He might say that the concept of "apna" (self) is also empty of inherent existence, and it's this very emptiness that allows for the possibility of liberation. The longing for "apna" is a manifestation of the fundamental drive towards realising the ultimate truth, which is beyond all conceptual frameworks.

The Mundaka Upanishad (2.2.11) describes the Atman as "akshara" (imperishable) and "para" (supreme), the essence of all beings. Mir's couplet echoes this Upanishadic truth, capturing the tension between ignorance and self-realisation. The realisation of the non-dual Atman brings liberation (moksha) from the cycle of birth and death (samsara).

The couplet's beauty lies in its expression of the soul's yearning for self-realisation, a theme central to Advaita and Upanishadic philosophy.

( Avtar Mota )

CHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.
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REVIEW OF BANDHAK: A NOVEL IN HINDI BY KSHAMA KAUL

                                         

BOOK REVIEW                                                          

BANDHAK: A NOVEL IN HINDI BY KSHAMA KAUL

 PUBLISHER PRALEK PRAKASHAN, MUMBAI

PUBLISHED IN JANUARY 2026

PRICE RS.399/-

PAGES 321

AVAILABLE ON AMAZON AND FLIPKART

 

BANDHAK (The Hostage): Literature, Memory, and the Politics of Return

Bandhak is a rigorous work of contemporary Hindi literature that examines displacement, return, and the precarious condition of minority existence in post-conflict Kashmir. Neither a conventional novel nor a memoir, the text inhabits an interstitial space between narrative fiction, testimonial writing, civilisational reflection, and political inquiry. Through the experiences of its central character, Sarsij Bhatt, the book interrogates how historical violence persists not merely through memory, but through institutions, policy frameworks, and the internalisation of fear.

The title Bandhak, literally “hostage”, is not merely metaphorical. It names a structural condition. The novel argues that displacement does not conclude with exile, and rehabilitation does not necessarily restore freedom. Return itself may constitute a renewed captivity, shaped by surveillance, conditional belonging, bureaucratic rigidity, and enforced silence.

Narrative Structure, Landscape, and the Burden of Belonging

The narrative follows Sarsij Bhatt, a young Kashmiri Hindu employed in Kashmir under a government rehabilitation scheme for displaced Pandits. Officially, the programme represents reintegration and development. Within the novel, however, it becomes a lens through which power relations are laid bare. Fixed postings, the prohibition of transfers, compelled residence in vulnerable areas, and the symbolic burden of “return” tether individuals to trauma-marked spaces without guaranteeing dignity or security.

Rather than progressing linearly, Bandhak unfolds episodically. Present-day experiences — travel through villages, conversations with colleagues, expressions on social media, quiet domestic tensions — interweave with inherited memories and civilisational recollections. The instability of narrative time mirrors the instability of belonging itself. Home, in this text, is neither fully lost nor securely reclaimed.

Few contemporary works render Kashmir with such intimate observational precision. Fields, canals, temples, courtyards, mountain roads, and quiet village shrines appear with sensory clarity. Yet the landscape is never merely scenic; it is inscribed with violence, contested memory, and altered ownership.

The novel is suffused with vivid and often nostalgic evocations of Kashmiri civilisational life. The author invokes Nandikeshwar, Gangabal, Nandakol, Bhuteshwara Tirtha (now in ruins), Sumbal village, and Tulamula not as passing references but as sacred coordinates of memory. Kahva shared in winter courtyards, the deep rhythm of tumbhaknaris, the collective devotion of bhajan mandlis, and the murmuring of village streams emerge as aide-mémoire anchors. These are not decorative cultural details; they restore texture, sound, and continuity to a world disrupted by forced exile. What has been displaced is not only a population but an entire cultural ecosystem.

Sarsij’s impulse to document the land through videos, photography, and digital archiving is framed as a simple act of love and belonging. Yet even aesthetic appreciation carries risk. Visibility becomes political. Claim becomes provocation. To return is to reclaim; to reclaim is to expose oneself. The land anchors identity while simultaneously amplifying vulnerability. In this unsettling paradox, the landscape itself participates in Sarsij’s captivity.

Survival, Policy, and Ethical Ambiguity

A central analytical thread in Bandhak is the politics of survival. Survival here is not passive endurance but a disciplined practice: politeness, strategic restraint, calibrated speech, and deliberate invisibility. Through conversations between Sarsij and his father, the novel reveals how minorities internalise caution as instinct.

Speech is never neutral; it is weighed for consequence. Social media posts become acts of risk. Casual remarks carry existential stakes. What the novel exposes, with chilling clarity, is the normalisation of self-censorship as a survival mechanism.

Rehabilitation narratives come under scrutiny without resorting to sloganeering. The Prime Minister’s Employment Package for Kashmiri Hindus — officially a policy of return — is examined through lived reality. Fixed postings, restricted mobility, exposure without structural protection, and symbolic reintegration without substantive security emerge as conditions that may reproduce captivity in another form. Employment, housing, and infrastructure are portrayed as insufficient when divorced from dignity and safety.

The author is unsparing. Responsibility is neither simplified nor narrowly assigned. Politicians, terrorists, separatists, land-grabbers, opportunistic schemers, hate-mongers, planners, and those occupying influential positions within both state and Union structures are all placed within the field of ethical accountability. This is not rhetorical outrage; it is systemic indictment. The novel suggests that structural vulnerability persists as much through policy design and administrative indifference as through overt violence.

One of the most powerful sections of the work concerns Sarsij’s visit to his ancestral village and his interactions with Muslim residents who now inhabit that social space. These encounters are rendered with remarkable restraint and psychological precision.

Hospitality and menace coexist. Warmth is inseparable from uncertainty. Offers of milk, recognition, conversation, and genuinely human gestures are shadowed by memory and asymmetry. The villagers are neither demonised nor romanticised; they are themselves shaped by loss, pressure, and history.

The ethical complexity here is one of the novel’s greatest strengths. Bandhak refuses the comfort of binaries. Trust is shown to be structurally fragile, even when individuals desire it. Conflict is not reduced to caricature; instead, it is revealed as something that corrodes everyday human relations at the most intimate level.

The author demonstrates an extraordinary command of narrative technique in her portrayal of the hostage-like existence endured by PM Package employees. Without resorting to polemics, rhetorical excess, or the predictable binaries of accusation and defence, she documents deeply sensitive episodes — including the reported change of faith by some PM Package women employees and the tragic killings of Amrit Kaur, Rahul Bhat, and Rajneesh Sharma, with unsparing yet disciplined clarity. Nothing essential is withheld; yet nothing is sensationalised.

What distinguishes her craft is not merely the courage to confront painful realities, but the rare intellectual restraint with which she renders them. The truth in her narrative operates on multiple registers: explicit in detail, implicit in implication, raw in fact, yet refined in articulation. Through a synthesis of moral steadiness, acute sociological observation, and aesthetic control, Kshama Kaul transforms reportage into reflective literature.

Her handling of facts reveals an observer of exceptional depth, one who perceives beyond event to pattern, beyond incident to structure. She does not manipulate emotion; she cultivates understanding. In doing so, she establishes herself not merely as bold but as monumental, a literary presence marked by Himalayan clarity, scale, and composure.

Memory, Style, and Literary Significance

Memory in Bandhak is not nostalgia; it is a burden. Sarsij inherits stories of temples desecrated, water springs  abandoned, rituals interrupted, and homes vacated under duress. These narratives constitute civilisational memory. To relinquish them would mean erasing identity itself.

The novel insists that genocide and ethnic cleansing are not singular episodes but prolonged processes, extended through economic marginalisation, cultural erasure, property dispossession, and compelled forgetting. The erosion of confidence: religious, linguistic, and historical, is portrayed as devastation deeper than physical displacement. Religious and mythological motifs surface throughout the text, not as dogmatic assertions but as repositories of continuity. Faith operates as both an interpretive framework and a resistance against epistemic erasure. Spiritual memory becomes a counter-archive.

Stylistically, Bandhak is dense, reflective, and intellectually disciplined. The prose is measured and recursive, mirroring the circular rhythms of trauma. Interior reflection takes precedence over conventional plot propulsion. For readers expecting minimalist brevity, the work may demand patience. Yet its form is inseparable from its argument: unresolved history cannot be narrated in simplistic arcs.

The author demonstrates notable moral courage and literary control. There is no aesthetic softening, no rhetorical evasion. With rare seriousness and composure, she transforms historical trauma into sustained philosophical inquiry. Her command of memory, language, and political nuance marks this work as a significant contribution to contemporary Hindi literature. The narrative does not seek catharsis; it seeks clarity.

From a journalistic perspective, Bandhak is striking for its refusal to dilute lived experience for the sake of balance. It interrogates official discourse surrounding rehabilitation and asks whether administrative inclusion equates to justice. It questions whether returning without security constitutes restoration or exposure.

The book will provoke disagreement. It will unsettle readers across ideological positions. Yet its value lies precisely in this discomfort. It expands the literary archive by documenting a narrative often marginalised or reduced to abstraction. This is not polemic; it is testimony sharpened by intellect.

Bandhak is a serious, unsettling, and intellectually demanding work. It documents a condition of constrained existence, where return does not restore freedom and survival requires permanent vigilance. In refusing simplification, the author performs an act of uncommon intellectual honesty. She spares none who participate in the perpetuation of injustice, yet she avoids caricature. She renders memory without sentimentality and politics without hysteria. As literature, Bandhak expands the moral and thematic range of contemporary Hindi writing.

As testimony, it preserves suppressed histories with disciplined clarity.

As a critique, it raises foundational questions about justice, state responsibility, and the meaning of belonging in the aftermath of unresolved violence. The book positions itself not merely as a novel, but as the record of an unfinished history, one that refuses closure because reality itself remains unresolved. In doing so, the author establishes herself as a writer of bold moral vision, stylistic rigour, and rare clarity: an unmistakable and courageous voice in contemporary Indian letters.

(Avtar Mota )

 

CHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.
Based on a work at http:\\autarmota.blogspot.com\.

INTERPRETING A COUPLET OF FIRAQ GORAKHPURI

                                                             

                

Behind the apparent simplicity, Firaq Gorakhpuri’s below-mentioned couplet resonates with a deeper philosophical meaning:

“Muddatein guzreen teri yaad bhi aayi na hamein,
Aur hum bhool gaye hon tujhe aisa bhi nahin.”

(Ages have passed, and I did not even think of you, 

Yet it’s not as though I have forgotten you.)

Or:

(Ages passed without your memory visiting me, 

Yet it is not that I have forgotten you.)

It captures that delicate emotional state in which someone isn’t constantly remembered, yet is still quietly present in the heart — not forgotten, just silently residing in memory. This couplet reflects a subtle philosophical tension between memory, time, and being.

Ordinarily, we think in binaries: either we remember someone, or we forget them. But this couplet lives in between. It suggests that remembrance is not always an active mental event. One can go long stretches without consciously recalling someone, and yet that person remains embedded in one’s being.

Philosophical Interpretation

Philosophically, this challenges the idea that presence requires awareness. Something can be absent from thought yet not absent from the self. “Muddatein guzreen” (ages passed) introduces time. Time usually implies fading, erosion, and decay of attachment. But here, time fails to perform its expected function.

This echoes a deeper metaphysical idea: what becomes part of our existential structure does not disappear with time. It may sink beneath consciousness, but it does not dissolve. Time governs events, not essence.

The lines suggest that memory is not only what we actively recall. Much of what shapes us operates silently. The beloved is no longer a recurring thought but has become an integral part of the speaker’s inner architecture. It is a scar you stop noticing. It is like a river that carved the valley long ago — one no longer sees the process, but its effects remain.

At a deeper level, this is not merely about remembering a person; it is about transformation. If someone changes you fundamentally, you no longer “remember”  him; you are partly him. Thus, forgetting becomes impossible, not because you think of him often, but because he helped shape who you are. In this sense, the couplet conveys an existential truth: the deepest attachments do not persist as thoughts; they endure as structures of the self.

There is also a stoic dimension here. The speaker is not burning with longing, not haunted daily, and yet there is no denial of feeling. It reflects mature emotion, not obsession, not indifference, but sedimented presence. It is love that has passed from passion into ontology. The couplet suggests that true connection transcends conscious memory; it becomes part of one’s being, where time may silence recall but cannot erase the imprint.

( Avtar Mota)

CHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.
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INTERPRETING A COUPLET OF GHALIB THROUGH VARIOUS PRISMS

                                                                          

                               ( Ghalib's Haveli in Delhi ) 

Interpreting a couplet of Ghalib through Multiple Prisms.

Original couplet :

“Main ne chaaha tha ki andoh-e-vafa se chhutoon,
Woh sitamgar meray  marne pe bhi raazi na hua”…..….Ghalib

Simple Translation:

(I had wished to be freed from the sorrow of fidelity,
but that tyrant was not satisfied even with my death.)

The phrase ‘Andoh-e-vafa’ (grief of fidelity) suggests that faithfulness in love has brought nothing but pain. Ghalib wishes to escape that sorrow, even implying that death might be the only release. However, the beloved is described as ‘Sitamgar’ (cruel one/tormentor), a common term in classical Urdu poetry for an indifferent or heartless beloved. The hyperbole lies in the final line: even the lover’s death does not satisfy the beloved. This exaggeration intensifies the theme of unrequited love; the beloved remains unmoved, showing ultimate indifference. Ghalib seeks escape from suffering born of attachment, yet even death does not grant release. Now, let us interpret this through some  philosophical lenses.

(1)    Through Albert Camus (Absurdism)

For Camus, the central human condition is the Absurd — the clash between our longing for meaning and the indifferent silence of the universe. The lover desires release from suffering (“andoh-e-vafā”). Even death fails to deliver resolution. The beloved remains unmoved. From a Camusian perspective, this resembles the human cry for relief from existential anguish, and the world’s refusal to respond. The “sitamgar” (cruel beloved) becomes symbolic of an indifferent universe.

(2)    Through the Upanishads

The Upanishadic view identifies suffering with Avidya (ignorance of the Self). The sorrow here arises from:

·       Identification with the ego (“I am the lover”),

·       Attachment to another (“the beloved”),

·       Expectation of reciprocity.

From a Upanishadic lens:

·       The grief is born of misidentification with the limited self.

·       Death does not free one from attachment because ignorance persists beyond bodily death.

·       Liberation (moksha) requires realisation of the non-dual Self (Atman = Brahman).

Thus: The lover seeks release externally (even in death), but true release lies in Self-knowledge. The “cruel beloved” is a projection within ignorance.

(3) Through Nagarjuna (Madhyamika / Emptiness)

Nagarjuna’s philosophy centres on Shunyata (emptiness): all things lack inherent, independent existence.In this light:

·       “Lover,” “beloved,” “sorrow,” and “death” are relational constructions.

·       Suffering arises from reifying these concepts as solid realities.

·       The idea that death could resolve sorrow assumes a fixed self who suffers.

Nagarjuna would deconstruct the entire framework:

·       There is no inherently existing “I” to suffer.

·       No inherently existing “beloved” who withholds satisfaction.

·       No independent “death” as escape.

Freedom comes not from death, but from insight into emptiness. When the dependent nature of self and attachment is seen, grief collapses.

(4)    Through Adi Shankara's  Advaita Vedanta

Sankara radicalises the Upanishadic insight:

·       The world of lover and beloved is Maaya (phenomenal appearance).

·       Attachment arises from superimposition (adhyaasa).

·       Death is merely another event in the realm of illusion.

From Advaita’s standpoint:

·       The sorrow of fidelity persists because the Jiva (individual self) still identifies with body and mind.

·       Death cannot grant Moksha.

·       Only the realisation of Brahman as one’s true nature ends suffering.

Thus, the lover’s tragedy lies in seeking liberation through an event (death) rather than knowledge ( Gyana ).

(5)    Through Kashmir Shaivism (Especially the tradition articulated by Abhinavagupta)

Kashmir Shaivism (Trika) does not see the world as mere illusion. Instead:

·       The universe is the self-expression (spanda) of Śiva-consciousness.

·       Bondage is not a real limitation but a contraction (Sankocha) of universal awareness.

·       The lover’s sorrow arises from forgetting one’s identity as the whole.

From this standpoint:

·       The “beloved” is none other than Shiva.

·       The pain of fidelity is the ache of separated consciousness longing for its own fullness.

·       Death cannot free the lover because bondage is not physical — it is a limitation in awareness.

Kashmir Shaivism would say, The cruelty of the beloved is divine play (Leela ). The longing itself is Shiva tasting separation from Himself. Liberation comes not by escape, but by recognition (Pratyabhijna), realising, “I was never other than the beloved.” Thus, the couplet of Ghalib becomes mystical rather than tragic.

(6)    Through the Sikh Gurus (Especially the teachings of Guru Nanak and enshrined in the Guru Granth Sahib)

The Sikh Gurus often use lover–Beloved symbolism. But here is the crucial shift: If the beloved appears cruel,
it is because the ego still stands between lover and Divine. According to Sikh teaching:

·       Mere physical death cannot liberate.

·       What must die is Haumai (Ego-centeredness)

·       When the ego dissolves through Naam-Japa(Divine remembrance), union occurs even while alive.

So the line “not satisfied even with my death” becomes spiritually precise: If ego remains, death changes nothing. Liberation is jeevan-mukti — freedom while living.

(7)    Through the Bhagwad Gita 

The Gita opens with Arjuna in despair, overwhelmed by attachment and grief. In Chapter 2,  Sri Krishna teaches:

·       Sorrow arises from attachment (Sanga).

·       What is born must die; what dies is reborn.

·       The Self (Atman) is unborn, undying.

Thus, from the Gita’s standpoint:

If suffering arises from attachment, death cannot end it, because the Self does not die. The lover wants to escape from “andoh-e-vafā” (the grief of attachment). Sri Krishna would say: grief is not ended by death, but by right understanding. The Gita is clear:

“Just as a person casts off worn-out garments and puts on others new,
so the embodied Self casts off worn-out bodies and enters others new.” (2.22)

So in Gita’s philosophy:

·       Physical death is merely a transition.

·       Unresolved attachment carries forward.

·       Desire binds the soul to rebirth (3.39–40, 8.6).

Thus, the line “not satisfied even with my death” aligns perfectly: death does not dissolve bondage if attachment persists. The Gita prescribes three integrated paths:

·       Karma Yoga — act without attachment to results.

·       Gyana  Yoga — realise the Self as eternal.

·       Bhakti Yoga — surrender the ego to the Divine.

The sorrow of fidelity in the couplet is painful because it is ego-centred love. The Gita transforms attachment into devotional surrender without possessiveness.

The Most Striking Convergence

Across radically different metaphysical systems — existentialist, Vedantic, Buddhist, Shaiva, Sikh, and the teaching of the Bhagavad Gita, one theme quietly repeats:

Physical death is not liberation.

In the couplet attributed to Mirza Ghalib, the lover assumes that suffering belongs to life, and therefore, the negation of life will negate suffering. This is the subtle metaphysical error. Every one of these traditions, despite their vast doctrinal differences, denies that assumption:

·       For Albert Camus, death evades the absurd rather than resolving it.

·       The Upanishads and Adi Shankara teach that ignorance, not embodiment, is the root of sorrow.

·       Nagarjuna dismantles the very notion of a fixed self that could escape through annihilation.

·       Abhinavagupta sees bondage as contracted consciousness, not mortal existence.

·       Guru Nanak insists that ego must die, not the body.

·       The Bhagavad Gita would conclude in one line: “Do not seek freedom by ending life; seek it by ending attachment through right knowledge, action, and surrender.”

 

Thus, Ghalib’s cry, though poetic, dramatises  a universal confusion: he seeks release through negation. But true release, in all these systems, is not the ending of existence; it is the transformation of consciousness. Death changes circumstances. Insight changes being. And suffering ends only with the latter.

 

 ( Avtar Mota )

 

 

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