THE PLUNDER OF KASHMIRI PANDIT
PROPERTIES: ANOTHER UNTOLD STORY
Based on a work at http:\\autarmota.blogspot.com\.
Literary and Cultural Writeups .
THE PLUNDER OF KASHMIRI PANDIT
PROPERTIES: ANOTHER UNTOLD STORY
Jammu ,June 1990 : Kashmiri Pandits in the Snake-Bite and Heat-Stroke Ward, GMC Jammu
They had come from a cool climate. They had lived their whole lives in the valley where summer evenings brought a breeze from the mountains, where nights remained bearable, where shade was plentiful, where water was cold from the spring, where the body had never been taught to endure the burning plains. In June 1990, they walked on the roads of Jammu when the temperature rose to 43 degrees Celsius. They had never experienced this heat. They had never walked in it. They had never waited in it. They had never stood in queues in it. They had never slept in it. They had never been forced to live in it without a roof, without a fan, without cold water, without rest. The heat did not come as weather. It came as punishment. It came as a second exile. It swept them. It struck the old first. It struck the frail first. It struck those whose bodies were already tired from the uprootment journey, from fear, from hunger, from sleepless nights. The elderly men and women who had left their homes with little more than a bundle of clothes found themselves walking from office to office under a sky that rained fire. They walked to the banks to see whether their accounts had been transferred. They walked to the relief office to see whether their names had been entered. They walked to Geeta Bhawan to see whether their dear ones could be located. They walked because no one came to them. They walked because no list was complete. They walked because no system was ready. It was confusion. It was disorder. It was a city unprepared for their arrival and a people unprepared for the city. The sun beat down on their heads. The tar melted under their feet. The air burned their lungs. Their sweat soaked clothes stuck to their bodies. Their mouths dried. Their legs trembled. Their eyes blurred. A high temperature seized them. Vertigo seized them. Loss of faculties seized them. They forgot why they had come out. They collapsed on roadsides. They collapsed outside offices. They collapsed in queues. They were carried to hospitals by strangers. They were carried by sons who were themselves exhausted. They were carried by neighbours who had become family in the camps. The wards filled.In one week, twenty-one died in hospitals. In one week, seven died in one ward alone. The numbers were not statistics. They were fathers. They were mothers. They were grandmothers who had told stories by the hearth. They were grandfathers who had tended orchards and taught in schools. They were men and women who had survived a lifetime in Kashmir only to die of heat in Jammu.
The Government issued advisories. The advisories asked people to stay indoors. The advisories asked people to drink water. The advisories asked people to avoid the sun. But the exiles had no indoors to stay in. They had tents put on open lands. The tents trapped the heat. The tents offered no shade from the sides. The tents turned into ovens by noon. The ground beneath them burned. The air inside them did not move. Children and old people gasped inside them. At night, the heat did not leave. It stayed in the earth. It stayed in the canvas. It stayed in the body.
And at night, another terror came. Snakes came out of the fields. Snakes came out of the open land where the tents had been pitched. Snakes stung many. Many died of these bites. The bites came without warning. They came in darkness. They came while people slept on the ground. They came while mothers held children close. A cry rose in the night. A leg swelled. A face turned pale. Breath grew short. The body went cold and then hot. The victim was rushed to GMC Jammu. GMC Jammu had many coming with deadly snake bites. The casualty ward saw them through the nights. The doctors saw them without rest. The nurses saw them without pause. The antidote was brought on priority. It was brought because lives could not wait for procedure.
At the same time, the heat-stroke cases also kept coming. The hospital had no time to choose between one tragedy and another. Ice slabs were brought into the hospital. Ice slabs were laid on the floor. Elderly Pandits were put on ice slabs to save them from deadly heat strokes. Their bodies burned with fever. Their skin burned to the touch. Their pulse raced. Their breathing failed. The ice cooled them slowly. Rarely did any person who saw that scene forget it. Rarely did any doctor who worked that night speak of it without pain. Rarely did any family that stood beside a slab of ice believe that this was the fate of a people who had lived with dignity in their own homes. The old men who had once walked with pride in Srinagar lay motionless on ice. The old women who had once kept homes, kitchens, shrines and courtyards lay with wet cloths on their foreheads. Their hands were wrinkled. Their feet were cracked from walking on hot roads. Their eyes were closed. Many did not recover . The ward became a place of waiting. It became a place of prayer. It became a place where the sound of a monitor was the sound of hope. Families waited outside. They waited without food. They waited without shelter. They waited for a word from the doctor. The city outside continued. Traffic moved. Shops opened. Offices functioned. But inside GMC Jammu, time had stopped for the exiles.
Inside those wards, the whole story of 1990 was written in bodies. It was written in heat. It was written in venom. It was written in exhaustion. It was written in the silence of those who had no one to complain to. No one had planned for this. No one had imagined that a people who had fled for their lives would die not of bullets but of sun and snakes. No one had imagined that tents would become furnaces. No one had imagined that open land would become a field of danger. Yet it happened. It happened in June. It happened in July. It happened when the summer was at its cruelest. It happened when help was slowest. The tragedy was not only in death. It was in the manner of death. A man who had lived eighty years died without a room. A woman who had raised five children died without a fan. A couple who had never left the valley died within days of each other in different wards.
The memories of those days did not fade. They stayed in the minds of those who carried bodies. They stayed in the minds of those who held ice to a father's forehead. They stayed in the minds of those who watched a mother shiver on a slab of ice. Time may heal wounds but memories are stubborn. They do not vanish. They return in summer. They return when the temperature crosses forty. They return when a snake is seen near a house. They return when a hospital siren sounds. They return when an old person complains of dizziness. For years, this tragedy remained untold.
For years, this subject remained unfilmed. Other filmmakers chose to ignore it. Other films chose easier stories. Other cameras turned away from the ward. Kudos to Maharaj Shah for showing this tragic aspect in his film Azadi made in October 2026. It is the first film to depict this tragedy. It is the first film to take the camera inside the heat and the fear. It is the first film to show the ice slabs. It is the first film to show the snake-bite and heat stroke ward.Praise is due to the creative vision of Maharaj Shah, who saw what others did not see, who remembered what others chose to forget, and who gave the dead a place in memory that no advisory, no file and no relief list could ever give.
( Avtar Mota )
Everyone saw it. The keepers of conscience saw it. The civil society saw it. The spiritualists saw it. The religious preachers saw it. The intellectuals saw it. Yet nobody raised a voice. Nobody stood up to say, "No. This is wrong. This is theft. These are not abandoned goods. They belong to people who were forced to leave their homes."
Babademb, near Khanyar and Iqbal Park ( Hazuri Bagh ) in Srinagar, became marketplaces of an altogether different kind after the exodus of the Kashmiri Pandits. After 2000, these places gradually acquired the character of a market dealing in household goods and material salvaged from deserted Pandit homes. These goods were sold on the road or on cots. These cots could be seen in Iqbal Park especially on Sundays . The sellers were there in 2008. The story of such a market was not merely about a market. It was about the fate of a community's belongings after that community had disappeared from its ancestral homes.
The Pandits had left behind more than houses. They had left behind lives. Behind locked doors were brass thalis used for generations, samovars that had witnessed countless family gatherings, bronze khasus, brass degchas (with the owner's name engraved at the rim), utensils, literature, religious books, manuscripts, family photographs, idols, crockery, mattresses, toys and other objects of everyday domestic existence. There were gas cylinders, bicycles, scooter parts, books and countless things that had once formed the ordinary furniture of ordinary lives. All these items were sold at various places in the city and Babademb finally became a notorious market which traded in the old doors and windows frames of Kashmiri Pandit houses.
There were doors and window frames. There was flooring. Many articles found their way into these shady shops. The market offered a bewildering assortment of possessions whose owners were scattered across Jammu, Delhi and other parts of India. A bronze thali was not merely a bronze thali. It might have been part of a wedding gift. A samovar was not simply a vessel for preparing tea. It might have stood in the same corner of a family kitchen for decades, witnessing births, marriages, festivals, mourning and conversations that had long since become memories. An old photograph album was not waste paper. It held faces, relationships and moments that could never be recreated. A manuscript could have contained the accumulated learning of generations. A small household idol might have been worshipped by a grandmother, a mother and then a daughter-in-law. Its value could never have been measured in the money it fetched in a marketplace. Yet these things appeared there for sale.
Everything was sold at throwaway prices. But the most disturbing question was not how cheaply these goods were sold. It was how they had reached the market in the first place. The original owners had neither sold them nor gifted them. They had not walked into Babademb to negotiate a price. They were thousands of miles away, struggling to rebuild their lives in unfamiliar surroundings. The owners had left Kashmir in circumstances of fear and uncertainty, carrying little more than the belongings they could manage to take with them. Their absence had created an opportunity for others. And there were buyers, too.
The most painful part was not simply that the belongings were taken and sold. It was that the act appeared to attract so little moral outrage. Where were the voices that could have said, "This is not yours"? Where were the religious leaders who could have reminded their followers that another person's property remained another person's property, even if its owner was absent? Where were the intellectuals and civil society representatives who could have condemned the spectacle? Nobody needed to organise a political movement to oppose this trade. A simple sentence would have been enough.
“No. This is wrong. This is theft.”
That sentence was missing.
Many films were subsequently made on the tragedy of the Kashmiri Pandits. They depicted their displacement, their suffering, their separation from their homeland and the destruction of a way of life. Some explored the violence and fear that accompanied the events of 1990. Others spoke of exile, nostalgia and the longing to return. Yet, in all these cinematic representations, one crucial reality remained largely absent: Babademb and the market that had emerged from the material remains of deserted Pandit homes.
The market was not a peripheral detail of the tragedy. It was one of its most disturbing chapters. It showed what happened to the material world of a community after its people had been forced out. It revealed how displacement could be followed by the appropriation and commercial circulation of the possessions left behind. It took filmmaker Maharaj Shah to bring this uncomfortable reality to the screen in his film Azadi, made in October 2026. He dared to show Babademb. He did what many filmmakers dealing with the Pandit tragedy had not done. He placed before the audience a marketplace that had become a symbol of a moral failure. His camera did not merely record a market. It brought back a chapter that had remained outside the familiar narrative of exile. It reminded viewers that the tragedy of 1990 did not end when the Pandits crossed the Banihal tunnel. Their homes, their belongings, their family memories and their inherited possessions continued to have a history of their own. Babademb and Hazuri Bagh were the marketplaces of the past.However,their stories ,belonged to the conscience of the present.
This is what Prof. T. N. Ganju, the eminent Sanskrit and Sharda scholar who stayed on in Kashmir even after the 1990s, once said:
"In Kashmir, post-1990s, many people would come to me with Sharda or Sanskrit manuscripts, obviously removed from puja rooms of deserted Pandit houses. They wanted to know what the manuscript was about. On being asked where had they come across it, they would simply smile. One person in Brian, Nishat has a huge collection of these Sharda or Sanskrit manuscripts ."
In 2008, at the Sunday market at Polo Ground, I came upon a cot-seller dealing in second-hand books.There, lying among the worn volumes, was the famous Penguin edition of V. S. Naipaul’s travelogue, "An Area of Darkness", priced at just fifty rupees.I opened the first page and paused. In a faded hand it read: “Bansi Lal Dhar, 05-08-1983. Bansi Lal Dhar had signed it.
I did not buy the book, for I already owned a copy, purchased long ago from the old Hind Book Shop on Residency Road, Srinagar. Instead, I casually asked the cot owner whether he had a Kashmiri Pandit brass Samovar. He replied promptly that such articles were not sold there, that I would have to go to a different market. Then, with the ease of a man well-versed in this trade, he offered to bring a samovar to my place of stay, and began enquiring whether I might also need a bronze Khasu or thaali or a brass Degcha.I moved away informing him that I need to check up and shall revert.
Babademb and Hazuri Bagh markets remain dark and indelible stains on the much-hyped Kashmiriyat. These were not merely places where plundered goods were sold; these were actually the marketplaces where the dispossession of an entire community was turned into an opportunity for commercial gain. The tragedy was compounded by the silence of those who should have protested. Maharaj Shah deserves appreciation for having the courage to bring this uncomfortable and shameful reality to the screen, when so many others chose to look away.
In 2001, I saw many Sharda manuscripts and miniature religious paintings from Kashmiri Pandit households on sale in khaat-bazaar opposite Amritsar Railway Station. I also saw these items on sale in the shady markets of old Delhi especially in Chawri Bazaar . A network of criminals ensured a wide market for these plundered goods. It may not surprise us to see the paintings looted from the deserted houses of eminent artists like Triloke Kaul ( more than 150 precious works including gifts from S H Raza and other artists ) ,Mohan Raina ( more than 300 paintings ) and P N Kachru ( paintings and library) reaching art auction houses of Europe and the US through the network of criminals. These art thefts appear in various books and magazines having published interviews of either the artists or their family members .
(Avtar
Mota )
The Last Morning With Those Who Could Not Speak
There are partings that are announced with speeches, with embraces, with long promises to write and to return. And then there are partings that take place in silence, because one side has no words at all, only large, trusting eyes, and a warmth that has leaned against your shoulder every winter morning of your life.
In the villages of Kashmir, before 1990 broke the valley open, a cow was never merely a cow. She was Lil, or Gonur, or Heemal, or Sondhur, or Saanpa. Her calf was Lalaa, or Saaba. They had names because they had places. They were spoken to in the morning as one speaks to a child. They were called by name from the courtyard, and they came, unhurried, knowing the voice, knowing the hand that would feed them.
The old lady of the house was their keeper, their mother in all but birth. Before she had eaten herself, she had fed them. Before the family sat down to its own meal, their share had been set aside. She knew which one liked her voice low and soft, which one grew restless if her calf was taken too far away, which one would nudge her sari with her head until she turned and stroked her forehead. They recognised her footsteps. They recognised her smell. They recognised the sound of the brass vessel she carried, and they would low, softly, not in hunger alone, but in welcome.
For the family, milk was not bought. It was given. It was a gift exchanged between two kinds of life that had learned to trust one another completely. The cow gave milk because she felt safe. The family gave care because they felt loved. That was the whole economy of the home, and it was more honest than any market in the world.
Then came the winter of 1990 when everything had to be left behind.
No one had told the animals that they were to be abandoned. How could they be told? They could not be told where their people were going, or why, or for how long, or whether they would ever come back. They stood in the courtyard that morning as they had stood every morning, waiting to be fed, waiting to be milked, waiting for the familiar routine that had held their small world together.
And so the family did what broken hearts have always done. They performed a farewell that was also a prayer.
They fed them first, one last time, with their own hands, as if by feeding them they might somehow make up for the days to come when another hand would feed them. They garlanded them with marigold, their necks bright with colour against the grey of that frightened morning. They applied tilak to their foreheads, red and trembling, as one does for a departing traveller, as one does for a goddess. The old lady pressed her forehead to the cow's forehead and wept, not quietly, but with the deep, tearing sobs of a mother who knows she is leaving her child in a world she cannot protect.
The children clung to them. They buried their faces in their warm flanks. They kissed their muzzles. They called their names again and again, Lil, Heemal, Lalaa, as if by repeating them they could keep them from being forgotten. The animals looked on, bewildered, patient, innocent. They did not understand why the hands that stroked them were shaking. They did not understand why the eyes that looked at them were full of tears. They only knew that something was wrong, and they stood still, as animals do when they sense grief, offering the only comfort they had: their nearness.
Some were handed over to neighbours, with folded hands and a choked voice: Please, look after her. She likes warm water in winter. She gets frightened in thunder. Please, do not let her calf go hungry. Promises were made that could not be kept, because no one knew if the neighbours themselves would stay. Some animals were left standing in the courtyard, watching their people walk away down the lane, carrying a single bag, not looking back because to look back would have been unbearable.
Many wanted to carry them along. Oh, how they wanted to. But where were they going? They themselves did not know. They were fleeing to save their lives and their honour, with no home waiting, no shed, no courtyard, no field. To take a cow on that journey would have been to condemn her to a suffering worse than parting. And so they left them, and the cruelty of it was that it was done out of love.
That is the particular pathos of this separation. A man can explain his leaving. A woman can promise to return. A child can write a letter. But a speechless creature cannot be consoled with reasons. She cannot be told that this is not abandonment, that this is compulsion, that her people wept for her long after they had left her. She can only watch the gate close, and wait, that evening, for a footstep that does not come.
For the first time in any film on the tragedy of the Kashmiri Pandits, Maharaj Shah has dared to film what was never been filmed before ; not just the leaving, but the loving. The farewell to the cows, the garlands, the tilak, the tears, the packed bags, the waiting truck, the neighbour stepping forward to receive what a family could no longer carry. In that one dawn scene, he has captured an entire civilization’s grief, faith, and dignity.
This is why this scene in Maharaj Shah’s film Azadi moves one so deeply. It does not invent grief. It remembers it. It shows what history books forget: that exile is not only about houses and land and temples. It is about the breaking of a thousand small, daily loves. It is about an old lady’s empty hands in the morning. It is about a cow, garlanded and blessed, standing in an empty courtyard, waiting for a voice that will call her name, and will never call it again.
( Avtar Mota )
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EXCERPTS
(1)
CHAPTER: ELECTIONS, ZINDABAAD, EXILES, CRICKET MATCH, RAY OF LIGHT, FABRICATION OF HISTORY, PAHALGAAM TRAGEDY, MARKAZ KI CHAAL AND OTHER ATYPICAL ISSUES
(a)
(They
pulled down a huge board displaying a photograph of smiling Sheikh Mohammad
Abdullah. They brought it to Lal-Chowk. The president of the private transport
company asked his accomplices to deface the board, walk over it and break it.
They did. They raised a new slogan, “Janta Party Zindabad. After about a
week, the election results were declared. Sheikh Mohammed Abdullah had won with
a thumping majority. And we saw the same president and all his accomplices
putting National Conference flags all over Lal Chowk in Srinagar. They danced, crying,
“ Aa gaya ji, aa gaya, alla baen( National Conference ) aa gaya. Aa gaya ji aa
gaya sheri babbar( Sheikh Abdullah ) aa gaya ”)
(b)
“Sabz
dastaaras khoda chhuyi raazi, Pakistaanuk gaazi hayi aav”
(Even
Almighty is happy to find a green turban on his head. Here comes the Gaazi from
Pakistan. “
This
Vanvun was sung by ladies to welcome Morar Ji Desai to the downtown residence of
Molvi Farooq. The seniormost Kashmiri journalist based in Delhi accompanied
Morarji's cavalcade. When Morar Ji asked him what these ladies were singing,
the journalist said:-
“They
are singing in praise of the green turban that Molvi Farooq has tied on your
head. It means Almighty has willed that ‘green turban be put on him, he who
came to our dwelling like a real Gaazi or religious liberator from Pakistan’.
So you are a man from Pakistan. "
The next day, Morar Ji Desai announced at a press conference that there is no tie-up or
alliance between Janata Party and Molvi Farooq’s Awami Action Committee. The
accompanying journalist was informed by a well-regarded handicrafts dealer, who
happened to be the person in charge of the Morarji Desai Reception Committee
and was himself a staunch Bakra, or supporter of Moulvi Farooq, that Morarji
Desai had been made to sit on the very chair that had once been used to make M.
A. Jinnah comfortable when he had visited the uncle of Moulvi Farooq during his
stay in Kashmir.)
(2)
CHAPTER:
BRIHAT KATHA: A TRADITION THAT CONNECTS KASHMIR, ANCIENT INDIA AND MODERN
LITERATURE
Neither writer composed a collection of interwoven tales comparable to Somadeva’s monumental work. Their literary genres remain distinct: Kalhana wrote a historical chronicle, while Bilhana excelled in courtly poetry and drama. Nevertheless, if the Brihat Katha style is understood more broadly as an expansive narrative approach embracing legends, human adventures, courtly episodes and imaginative storytelling, both writers share some of its characteristics. Their works demonstrate the diversity of Kashmir’s Sanskrit literary heritage, where history, poetry and storytelling developed alongside one another. Together, these writers reveal a literary culture deeply connected with the wider intellectual and cultural traditions of India.
CHAPTER: “THE
INTELLECTUAL WEAKENING OF CONTEMPORARY KASHMIRI LITERATURE: A STRUCTURAL
READING WITH A NOTE ON SCRIPT”
(This monothematic pressure explains why most contemporary writing from Kashmir fails to acquire readers even when translated into English or any other language.
Great regional literature becomes universal not by abandoning
locality but by deepening it. The Kashmiri village in Nadim, the Srinagar
mohalla in Akhtar Mohiuddin, the peasant in Amin Kamil is so precisely observed
that it becomes recognisable to a reader in Bengal or Brazil. The local is
rendered with such psychological and philosophical depth that it transcends
locality.
Much of the literature now being produced does the opposite.
It treats Kashmir as a theme rather than as a lived world. The narrative is
driven by identity, grievance, exile, or assertion. These are important
realities, but when they are presented as slogans rather than as human
dilemmas, the work loses its capacity to travel.
A story that depends entirely on the reader already sharing a political position cannot survive translation, because the translated reader does not share that immediate context. The universal elements, the rendering of Lore, ageing, childhood, work, guilt, fear, tenderness, which allow a Tamil or Polish reader to enter the text, are absent. Translation therefore exposes the thinness. What was moving in the original because of shared context becomes inert in English because there is no underlying human architecture to hold it.
This is not an argument against political writing. It is an argument for political writing that achieves universality through craft. The Palestinian writer Ghassan Kanafani, the Irish writer Seamus Heaney, and the Bosnian writer Aleksandar Hemon are deeply political and yet universally read, because their politics is embodied in character and language, not declared in authorial commentary. Contemporary Kashmiri writing, in many cases, declares rather than embodies.)
(4)
CHAPTER ZANGTREI FESTIVITY: WHEN
MARRIED WOMEN VISIT THEIR PARENTAL HOME
(Marriage traditionally altered the physical
location of a daughter, but Zangtrei affirmed that it did not have to erase her
emotional belonging. She could leave her parental home, establish another
household and assume new responsibilities, yet the old home remained a place to
which she could return. She was welcomed with Zang or Shagun. The offerings
could be simple: a packet of salt, a few currency notes known as Atagath, bread
or Kulcha and Attahur. Their material value was insignificant. Their emotional
value was immense. A packet of salt could become an offering of affection. A
few notes could become a gesture of blessing. Bread could carry the warmth of
the household. Such customs remind us that traditional societies often
expressed emotions through objects of everyday life rather than elaborate
declarations. The daughter crossed a familiar threshold, but she was also
crossing into her own memories. Perhaps her mother stood waiting for her.
Perhaps her father opened the door. Perhaps the brother who had grown into the
responsibilities of the household welcomed her. Whatever the circumstances, the
message was the same: ‘you still belong
here’. This is what makes Zangtrei so different from an ordinary family
visit. It institutionalised affection. It gave the daughter a day on which the
continuity of her relationship with her parental home could be publicly
affirmed.)
(5)
CHAPTER: LAL DED: SHAIVA VISION, LOSS AND APPROPRIATION
(A close examination of the corpus attributed to Lalleshwari reveals sustained dilution of her Shaiva–Trika vision through careless, vague, and at times wilful misattribution. In a personal discussion, the noted scholar and poet Moti Lal Saqi stated that he could vouch for only thirty-five to forty vaakhs as genuinely belonging to Lal Ded. The remainder, he suggested, had been attributed either knowingly or unknowingly, thereby obscuring the philosophical precision of her utterance. This concern is echoed by Professor Tej Raina in his book, Lalla Vaakh: Echoes from Pandrethan”, which documents systematic distortions in the received corpus. Of the approximately 258 vaakhs circulating under Lal Ded’s name, Professor Jay Lal Kaul selected only 138 for inclusion in his compilation, declining to vouch conclusively even for these.
Over
time, verses by Rupa Bhawani have been uncritically merged with Lal Ded’s
Vaakhs. Thirty-five verses occur identically in collections attributed to Lal
Ded and in the Noornamas and Reshinamas of Sheikh Noor-ud-Din (Nund Rishi),
where they appear as shrukhs. Further confusion arises from the attribution of
three quatrains by Azizullah Khan, a nineteenth-century Kashmiri poet, to Lal
Ded by Rev. J. Hinton Knowles. One of these was later translated by A. K.
Ramanujan under Lal Ded’s name and cited as such by K Satchidanandan. Such
practices have blurred authorial boundaries and diluted the coherent Shaiva
philosophy central to Lal Ded’s authentic voice.)
( Avtar Mota )
Upon my visit to Kashmir in 2005,
I went to the old Chinar tree near my house
and asked if the rumours were true.
“They say you came from Iran.
You do not belong to Kashmir.
And if Rajatarangini remembers you,
then Rajatarangini must be lying.”
Its leaves trembled.
And it gave me a lengthy
explanation.
“If I speak, they will cut me down.
They demand that I remain green
in every season.
My autumn gold must be forgotten,
washed clean from my memory.
I must deny the colours
that made me what I am.
Once, I sheltered your ancestors.
I stood beside their temples,
their courtyards and their homes.
I watched their prayers rise
through my branches.
Then came 1990.
You fled to save your life and honour ,
leaving me behind.
I could not follow.
My roots held me to Kashmir;
the soil became my prison.
Now, in exile,
you have found the Peepal.
It was never a tree of your valley.
It belonged to the plains,
Yet it gave you refuge.
Its branches embraced you,
for you needed a tree
to receive the grief
your homeland could no longer hold.
You learnt to love the Peepal
because you had lost me.
I belong to your remembered home;
The Peepal became the shelter
of your homelessness.”
Years later, in America,
I saw a maple dressed in gold.
My heart leapt.
I thought my Chinar
had crossed the oceans to find me.
But the maple whispered:
“I
am not your Chinar.
My colours may resemble its autumn,
but resemblance is not belonging.
I have my own roots,
as your lost tree has its own soil.”
Suddenly ,I remembered Booen Ded ,
my grandmother,
Who died of heat stroke in Jammu .
I remembered how much she missed
the shady Booen of the temple she used to visit in Kashmir .
And this innocent woman used to recite
Lal Vaakh in her Aarti as well.
Oh Lal Ded !
her words scattered,
her memory contested,
her spiritual inheritance wounded.
Where would I find her now?
Perhaps beneath a Peepal,
in the plains where exile has carried us,
still absorbed in her eternal Sadhana,
beyond the hurts of those
who try to rob her tongue of Shaiva Darshana,
I understand .
The Peepal is not our
substitute for Kashmir's Chinar.
It was the tree we learnt to embrace,
Because Kashmir's Chinar was beyond our reach.
We did not choose exile.
We learnt to live with it.
And today, when Chinars turn to gold,
Every exile remembers his lost autumn.
And when their leaves fall,
something of him falls too.
He may embrace the Peepal,
but he cannot forget the Chinar.
For the Peepal gives him shade;
only the Chinar gives him home.
(Avtar
Mota)
PS
A Chinar tree is known as Booen in Kashmiri
THE
DOGRA RULE: A CENTURY OF PROGRESS, INSTITUTION-BUILDING AND TRANSFORMATION IN
JAMMU AND KASHMIR
The
century of Dogra rule, from 1846 to 1947, was one of the most consequential
periods in the making of modern Jammu and Kashmir. Across a formidable
geographical landscape of mountains, valleys, rivers and remote settlements,
the State developed roads and bridges, irrigation canals, hydroelectric power,
hospitals, colleges, courts and other public institutions. Printing presses,
translation departments, museums and libraries contributed to the preservation
and circulation of knowledge, while land settlement and administrative reforms
brought greater organisation to the governance of the territory.
These
were not isolated projects. Together, they represented a substantial process of
state-building that transformed transport, agriculture, education, healthcare,
industry and public administration. The Land Bandobast under Maharaja Pratap
Singh, conducted by Sir Walter Lawrence and his team, was particularly
important in establishing systematic land records. The introduction of trout
culture, the growth of the silk industry, the establishment of Jammu and
Kashmir Bank and the emergence of aviation and radio broadcasting further
illustrate the breadth of change.
The
achievements of Maharaja Gulab Singh, Maharaja Ranbir Singh, Maharaja Pratap
Singh and Maharaja Hari Singh must be understood in their historical context.
Dogra rule deserves recognition as a major chapter in the transition of Jammu
and Kashmir towards a more connected and administratively organised State.
State-Building
and Administrative Organisation
Maharaja Gulab Singh established the princely State of Jammu and Kashmir in 1846. Governing its geographically diverse regions required administrative coordination, reliable communications and more systematic arrangements for revenue collection and the maintenance of law and order. His successors progressively developed the machinery of government. During Maharaja Ranbir Singh's reign, judicial institutions, legal procedures and administrative regulations became more organised. The Adalat-ul-Alia, established in 1877, formed part of this judicial development. Later milestones included the Civil Courts Regulation of 1921 and the establishment of the High Court of Jammu and Kashmir in 1928.
Departments dealing with public works, forests, education, health and agriculture gradually acquired more clearly defined responsibilities. Land surveys, revenue records and forest administration also became more systematic. The process was not uninterrupted. During Pratap Singh's reign, his powers were curtailed in 1889, and a State Council operated under British supervision. His powers were restored in 1905. Nevertheless, the successive reigns witnessed the development of a more differentiated administrative structure, with specialised departments, courts, regulations and public services.
Roads,
Bridges and the Opening of the Valley
Transport
infrastructure was among the most consequential achievements of Dogra rule. The
mountains that defined Kashmir's geography also imposed severe restrictions on
movement. Improved roads and bridges connected settlements, facilitated trade
and administration, and reduced the isolation of the Valley.
The Jhelum Valley Cart Road
Developed
during Maharaja Pratap Singh's reign and opened to motor traffic around 1890,
the Jhelum Valley Cart Road connected Kashmir through Baramulla and the Kohala
route towards Rawalpindi. It became an important commercial corridor for
passengers, traders and goods, strengthening the Valley's links with markets
beyond the State.
The Banihal Cart Road
Opened
to vehicular traffic in 1922, the Banihal Cart Road improved communication
between Jammu and Srinagar across difficult mountain terrain. It was a major
engineering undertaking and an important step towards more reliable movement
between the State's principal centres.
The
modern Jawahar Tunnel must be distinguished from this earlier road. The tunnel
opened in 1956, after Dogra rule had ended.
Bridges and River Crossings
The
Chenab crossing at Ramban helped establish the town as an important point on
the Jammu–Srinagar route. The early development of the crossing is associated
with the period of Maharaja Gulab Singh, although the dates and successive
forms of individual bridge structures require verification.
The
Tawi Bridge contributed to Jammu's urban transport infrastructure, while the
Ravi crossing at Lakhanpur was important for communication with Punjab. The
precise dates and attribution of particular structures should be established
from contemporary records.
Roads
towards Ladakh and the northern frontier regions served administrative and
strategic purposes. Dak bungalows and rest houses provided accommodation for
travellers and officials along important routes.
Boulevard
Road and Railway Connectivity
The development of Boulevard Road along Dal Lake is associated with Maharaja Hari Singh's reign, particularly the early 1930s. It improved access along the lakefront and contributed to Srinagar's emerging tourist infrastructure. The Sialkot–Jammu railway, opened in 1890, connected Jammu with the wider railway network of the subcontinent. It facilitated passenger travel and the movement of goods, although the subsequent Partition of the subcontinent disrupted this connection.
Together,
roads, bridges and railway connectivity laid important foundations for the
subsequent development of transport in Jammu and Kashmir.
The
Land Bandobast: Walter Lawrence and Agrarian Administration
One
of the most significant administrative achievements of Maharaja Pratap Singh's
reign was the systematic land settlement, or Bandobast, undertaken in
Kashmir under Sir Walter Roper Lawrence. Its importance was comparable, in
administrative significance, to that of major public works because agriculture
and land revenue were central to the State's economy.
Before
the settlement, land records and revenue assessments were often irregular.
Cultivators could face arbitrary demands and insecurity arising from poorly
documented holdings. The absence of systematic village maps and standardised
records also complicated the administration of agricultural land.
An
initial settlement initiative was undertaken by Andrew Wingate in 1887, but it
covered a limited area. Lawrence was appointed Settlement Commissioner in 1889,
and the principal settlement operations continued until 1894.
Survey,
Classification and Recording
Lawrence
and his team undertook an extensive survey of agricultural land. Villages were
mapped, fields recorded and land classified. Information concerning
cultivation, soil and irrigation was documented, and revenue assessments were
prepared on a more systematic basis.
This
was a substantial administrative exercise for its time. It gave the State a
clearer record of agricultural holdings and the productive capacity of the
land, while establishing a more regular framework for assessing revenue
obligations.
Significance for Cultivators
The
Bandobast helped reduce some of the uncertainty associated with irregular
assessments and arbitrary local practices. The recording of holdings and
clarification of revenue obligations gave cultivators a more documented basis
for their relationship with the administration.
It
did not abolish all agrarian inequalities or confer unrestricted proprietary
ownership upon every cultivator. Nevertheless, it established an important
foundation for land administration, revenue records and subsequent land-related
proceedings.
The
Land Bandobast demonstrates that institution-building was not confined to
roads, buildings and engineering projects. By bringing greater order and
documentation to land administration, the work of Lawrence and his team
affected one of the most important aspects of everyday economic life in
Kashmir.
Irrigation,
Agriculture and Flood Control Under the Dogra Rulers
Agriculture
remained a principal source of livelihood in Jammu and Kashmir, making
irrigation, drainage and flood control important areas of public investment
under the Dogra rulers. The development of canals helped extend cultivation,
improve water availability and reduce, to some extent, the risks arising from
inadequate rainfall and irregular river flows.
The
Jammu region contained an extensive kandi belt, characterised by undulating
terrain and limited water availability. Rainwater-harvesting tanks and
irrigation projects were therefore important to agricultural development in
this area. The Ranbir Canal, constructed under Maharaja Pratap Singh and
completed in 1911, became a major irrigation work in Jammu. The Pratap Canal
also served agricultural areas around Jourian, Khour and Pallanwala. The
Basantpur Canal, drawing water from the Ravi, was another component of the
State's irrigation infrastructure. These projects reflected efforts to bring
more land under cultivation and support agricultural production.
In
the Kashmir Valley, the Martand Canal, an ancient irrigation channel associated
with the region's early history, was reconstructed along the alignment of the
older Shahi Khul. Work began in 1901, and the canal was opened for irrigation
in 1902. The Lal Khul, which served parts of north Kashmir, was another
important channel in the irrigation network. The Dogra period thus saw not only
the construction of new canals but also the rehabilitation and maintenance of
older watercourses.
Flood
control was a separate but equally important responsibility. The Jhelum was
central to the Valley's agriculture, transport and urban life, but its periodic
flooding threatened Srinagar and neighbouring settlements. Following earlier
floods, the administration undertook works to improve the river's capacity to
discharge excess water. The Srinagar flood spill channel, constructed during
1903–04, diverted surplus water from the Jhelum through an alternative channel
between the Ram Munshi Bagh area and Pandrethan. Dredging below Baramulla and
other measures to improve drainage were also undertaken. These works formed
part of the State's broader response to recurrent flooding and waterlogging.
The
establishment of a separate Irrigation Department in November 1923 marked an
important administrative step towards the specialised management of irrigation
works. The significance of Dogra-era initiatives lay in the expansion of canal
irrigation, the maintenance of existing channels, the provision of water to
vulnerable agricultural areas and the development of flood-control
infrastructure. These measures constituted an important part of the State's
public works programme, although their benefits and limitations must be
assessed against the wider social and economic conditions under which
agriculture operated.
The
Jhelum Weir
The
Chattabal Weir, opened in 1916 during Maharaja Pratap Singh's reign, helped
maintain water levels in the Jhelum and supported navigation through Srinagar
and towards Dal Lake for a longer part of the year. The weir formed part of the
broader management of the river and the city's waterways. Its relationship with
fisheries is also of interest, although the claim that fish preservation was
its principal original purpose requires supporting contemporary records.
Irrigation, drainage and river regulation were important components of the
State's agricultural and civic infrastructure.
Hydroelectricity
and Public Utilities
The
Mohra Hydroelectric Power Station, developed during Maharaja Pratap Singh's
reign and commissioned in the early twentieth century, supplied electricity for
lighting and industrial purposes. It was among the important early
hydroelectric developments in the region.
Electricity
created possibilities for improved urban lighting and industrial production,
introducing a new technological resource into the economic and civic life of
the State.
Urban
water supply also received attention. Pumping facilities drawing water from the
Tawi contributed to water provision in Jammu, while other public works supported
growing settlements. Sanitation and municipal services developed alongside
urban administration. Tap water was introduced in Srinagar during Dogra rule.
Hospitals
and Modern Healthcare
The
development of hospitals and dispensaries was an important advance in public
services. In a region where distance and difficult terrain restricted access to
treatment, organised healthcare facilities offered new possibilities for
medical care. Shri Maharaja Gulab Singh Hospital in Jammu opened in 1943,
following the laying of its foundation stone in 1940. Shri Maharaja Hari Singh
Hospital in Srinagar was inaugurated in 1946. Both became important
institutions in modern medical care. District hospitals, dispensaries and
facilities for treating tuberculosis also formed part of the expanding medical
network. Public health administration increasingly addressed vaccination,
sanitation and infectious diseases.
These
institutions provided foundations for the subsequent development of healthcare
in Jammu and Kashmir.
Education,
Colleges and Technical Training
The
expansion of education created opportunities for formal learning, professional
training and intellectual development.
Prince
of Wales College in Jammu, now Government Gandhi Memorial Science College,
became an important institution of higher education. Sri Pratap College in
Srinagar contributed to collegiate education, while Amar Singh Technical
Institute in Srinagar supported technical and vocational learning. The Ranbir
Public Library in Jammu provided an institutional resource for reading and
scholarship.
Schools
gradually expanded in towns and other localities. Female education received
increasing attention, and measures introduced during Maharaja Hari Singh's
reign sought to broaden access to primary education. Legislation concerning
compulsory primary education in 1930 marked an important step in educational
policy, although implementation varied.
The
growth of colleges, technical institutions and public libraries helped create a
more developed educational infrastructure and contributed to the emergence of
new professional and intellectual communities.
Translation
Departments, Printing Presses and Scholarship
The
development of translation and printing facilities was an important
contribution to the intellectual life of the State.
Maharaja
Ranbir Singh established a translation department that brought scholars
together to translate works from Sanskrit, Persian, Arabic and other languages
into languages including Dogri, Urdu and Hindi. The programme covered literature,
philosophy, history and scientific subjects, helping make selected works
accessible beyond their original linguistic settings.
The
Vidya Vilas Press was established in 1858 during the early years of Dogra rule.
Other presses followed, including facilities associated with the production of
books, educational material and official documents. The Ranbir Printing Press
formed part of the expanding print culture associated with Ranbir Singh's
reign.
Printing
made the reproduction and circulation of texts easier. Together with
translation departments, schools and libraries, these facilities helped
establish a more organised documentary and literary culture in Jammu and
Kashmir.
Industry,
Sericulture and Banking
The
Government Silk Factory in Srinagar became an important industrial enterprise,
combining Kashmir's established sericulture traditions with organised
production. Silk cultivation and processing supported employment and commercial
activity.
The
administration also encouraged technical training and developed mechanisms for
the exploration and regulation of mineral resources.
Jammu
and Kashmir Bank, established in 1938 during Maharaja Hari Singh's reign, was
an important step in the development of organised banking within the State.
These initiatives broadened the economic and institutional base of Jammu and
Kashmir, even though the economy remained predominantly agrarian.
Other
industrial activities included the Resin and Turpentine Factory at Miran Sahib,
the mining of sapphires at Padder, the match factory at Baramulla and the
Woollen Mill in Srinagar.
Trout
Culture and Scientific Fisheries
The
introduction of trout into Kashmir's streams was a notable scientific and
economic development associated with Maharaja Pratap Singh's reign. It
eventually helped establish Kashmir as a destination for trout angling.
An
initial attempt to introduce trout eggs from Britain in 1899 failed during
transit. A second consignment arrived successfully from Scotland in December
1900. Some young fish were transferred to Panzagam at Dachigam, near Harwan,
while others were reared at a private facility in Srinagar.
A
department initially known as the Department of Game Preservation was
established in 1903. F. J. Mitchell played an important role in developing
trout culture, working with local collaborators. A hatchery at Achabal,
established later, helped propagate trout and distribute fish seed to streams
across the Valley.
The
programme moved beyond importing fish to establishing systems for breeding,
rearing and distribution. It remains an important example of organised fish
culture during the Dogra period, although the ecological consequences of
introducing a non-native species deserve consideration in any modern
assessment.
Development
of Tourism Under the Dogra Rulers
The
Dogra period witnessed the gradual emergence of Kashmir as a major tourist
destination. Although places such as Gulmarg and Pahalgam had been known before
the development of modern tourism, they gained wider recognition during the
late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The Dogra administration,
particularly under Maharaja Pratap Singh, facilitated this process through
improvements in communications, transport and visitor facilities. The growing
presence of British officials and European travellers, together with the
increasing popularity of Kashmir's climate, lakes and mountain landscapes,
contributed to the expansion of tourist traffic.
Gulmarg
developed into a prominent summer resort, while Pahalgam and other scenic
destinations attracted increasing numbers of visitors. Srinagar, with Dal Lake
as its principal attraction, became the centre of a distinctive tourism
economy. The establishment of a Visitors' Bureau marked an important step
towards the organised promotion of tourism and the systematic recording of
visitors.
The
houseboat became one of the most distinctive features of Kashmir's tourist
identity during this period. Restrictions preventing Europeans and other
outsiders from purchasing land in the State encouraged British visitors to use
boats as floating residences. Existing Kashmiri boats, particularly Doongas,
were adapted to provide more comfortable accommodation. Local boat builders,
craftsmen and entrepreneurs subsequently developed the elaborate houseboats
that became synonymous with Dal Lake and Srinagar. Their growth illustrates how
a political restriction, combined with local enterprise and foreign demand,
gave rise to an enduring feature of Kashmir's tourism economy.
The
Dogra rulers' contribution to tourism therefore lay not in discovering
Kashmir's natural beauty, which had attracted visitors for centuries, but in
developing infrastructure, facilitating tourist movement and establishing
organised visitor services. These changes helped connect Kashmir more closely
with the wider world and created new livelihoods in transport, accommodation,
handicrafts and related trades.
Art Received a Great Uplift and Flourished During Dogra Rule
The Dogra period, from 1846 to 1947, was a century of artistic revival after centuries of neglect. Art flourished because there was at last a stable state that saw itself as a patron of culture. Maharaja Gulab Singh and Ranbir Singh revived manuscript illumination and court portraiture in the Dogra-Pahari style. Maharaja Pratap Singh and Maharaja Hari Singh expanded this into modern art, patronising papier-mâché, wood-carving, shawl design and photography.
In this climate of peace, many European and Indian painters visited Kashmir ; William Simpson, Constance Villiers-Stuart, William Carpenter, B. F. Gribble, Raja Ravi Varma, Bishan Singh, AR Chugtai ,Abanindranath Tagore ,and many more reputed artists , all drawn by its light and landscape.
The culmination of this patronage came under Maharaja Hari Singh, who employed renowned artist N. S. Bendre (1910-1992), later one of India's nine National Art Treasures, as artist-cum-journalist to the State. Bendre documented the landscape, people and durbar life of Jammu and Kashmir and advised on art education in Srinagar, linking the Dogra court directly to modern Indian art. Bendre worked as a journalist cum painter in the state for about 3 years (1936 to 1939 ).
Municipal
Development and Urban Infrastructure
The
growth of municipal administration accompanied improvements in roads, water
supply, sanitation and public buildings. Jammu and Srinagar increasingly
required organised civic services to support their expanding populations and
administrative responsibilities.
Street
improvements, government offices, rest houses and municipal facilities formed
part of this process. In Jammu, transport and urban services reinforced the
city's role as an administrative centre. In Srinagar, road and lakefront
improvements contributed to the development of the city as the principal urban
centre of Kashmir.
Boulevard
Road along Dal Lake exemplifies this changing urban landscape. Its development
improved access along the lakefront and contributed to Srinagar's emerging
tourist economy.
Religious
Patronage, Museums and Cultural Preservation
The
Dogra rulers contributed to the construction, patronage and development of
religious institutions. Jammu's Raghunath Temple complex, developed
substantially under Maharaja Ranbir Singh, became an important expression of
the region's religious and architectural heritage. The development and
renovation history of Kheer Bhawani at Tula Mula and Sharika Devi at Hari
Parbat are also important subjects for examining Dogra-era religious patronage.
A major cultural contribution was the establishment of the Sri Pratap Singh Museum in Srinagar. A palace building at Lal Mandi was made available for museum purposes, providing a permanent institutional home for archaeological and artistic collections. The museum brought together sculptures, bronzes, coins and other antiquities representing different periods of Kashmir's history. Its establishment reflected an important recognition that the region's material heritage required collection, preservation and organised study. Libraries and archives similarly helped Here is the shortened version:
Airports,
Radio and Modern Communications
The
later Dogra period witnessed the emergence of aviation and broadcasting as new
forms of communication. Jammu's aerodrome was developed during Maharaja Hari
Singh's reign and initially served the ruler's private aircraft. It
subsequently became the foundation of the city's modern airport infrastructure.
Srinagar's airfield acquired particular importance during the crisis of 1947.
Its subsequent development into a major civilian airport belongs to the later
history of the region.
Radio
broadcasting emerged during the political transition of 1947–48. Radio Jammu
began broadcasting on 1 December 1947, during Maharaja Hari Singh's reign.
Radio Kashmir Srinagar began operating on 1 July 1948, after the formal end of
Dogra rule.
Together
with printing presses, libraries and schools, broadcasting formed part of the
wider transformation of public communication.
Courts,
Law and Constitutional Development
The
establishment of formal judicial institutions was an important aspect of the
State's modernisation. The High Court of Jammu and Kashmir was established in
1928 during Maharaja Hari Singh's reign. Civil and criminal courts and more
formalised legal procedures contributed to a structured system of
administration.
The
State Subject Notification of 1927 defined State Subject status and introduced
protections relating to land ownership and eligibility for State employment.
The Praja Sabha, established in 1934, introduced a limited representative
element into legislative arrangements, although executive authority remained
concentrated in the ruler and his administration. The Constitution Act of 1939
further systematised the constitutional framework.
These
were important institutional developments, although political participation
remained restricted and the system did not amount to full representative
government.
Social
Reform: Begar, Temple Entry and Women's Welfare
The
social history of Dogra rule also includes measures addressing compulsory labour,
caste-based exclusion and the exploitation of women.
Reform
and Abolition of Begar
The
institution of Begar, or compulsory unpaid labour, had a long history in
Kashmir and existed under successive regimes, including the Afghan and Sikh
administrations. During the Afghan period, it became particularly oppressive,
with ordinary people frequently compelled to carry official baggage, transport
supplies and undertake arduous journeys to Kabul without remuneration. The
burden of this system fell heavily upon the peasantry, disrupting agricultural
activity and exposing villagers to considerable hardship.
The
Dogra rulers inherited this institution rather than introducing it. Its gradual
transformation began during the reign of Maharaja Pratap Singh. In 1891, significant
reforms were introduced to regulate the system. A registered body of porters
and transport workers was organised, and provision was made for remuneration.
The indiscriminate requisitioning of villagers for unpaid labour was curtailed.
The
State Council approved measures for the abolition of Begar in 1920. Maharaja
Hari Singh continued the process of reform, and further restrictions were
imposed on compulsory labour. Thus, the transition from the coercive practices
associated with the Afghan period to a regulated and eventually prohibited
system of compulsory labour was gradual. The reforms initiated under Pratap
Singh and pursued under Hari Singh formed important stages in this process.
Temple
Entry and Access to Drinking Water
During
Maharaja Hari Singh's reign, measures addressed the exclusion of historically
disadvantaged communities from State-controlled temples. A proclamation
associated with 1932 is an important milestone in this history. Related reforms
addressed caste-based restrictions on access to public wells, drinking water,
educational institutions and other facilities. These initiatives sought to
reduce discriminatory barriers to religious and public life, although caste
discrimination was not thereby eliminated.
Women's
Welfare and Suppression of Exploitation
The
position of widows, early marriage and the exploitation of women formed part of
the wider social-reform agenda. Any specific claim concerning a distinct Widow
Remarriage Act should be supported by the exact title, date and provisions in
the State's legislative records.
During
Maharaja Hari Singh's reign, legislation also addressed immoral traffic and the
exploitation of women. The Suppression of Immoral Traffic Regulation of 1934 is
associated with this effort. It is more accurate to describe it as an attempt
to suppress exploitation and trafficking than to claim that prostitution was
completely eliminated.
These measures formed part of a broader, if incomplete, effort to address social inequalities through State action.
Maharaja Pratap Singh and the Promotion of Cricket
Maharaja Pratap Singh encouraged the introduction and development of modern sports in Jammu and Kashmir. Cricket gradually found patronage under the Dogra rulers, becoming part of the emerging sporting culture of the State. The Maharaja's interest in organised recreation reflected a broader outlook that recognised the importance of physical fitness, discipline and sportsmanship in public life. A particularly interesting detail is that Maharaja Pratap Singh maintained a cricket team and was himself one of its eleven players. A photograph from 1922 shows him with his team at Gulmarg. Cricket was then largely a royal and elite recreation, and his personal participation reflected his enthusiasm for the game. His interest helped give cricket visibility and prestige in the State.
The Dogra rulers of Jammu and Kashmir embodied the traditional ideals of Kshatriya dharma in their personal conduct, sense of duty and approach to kingship. They projected an image of disciplined living, personal restraint and adherence to established moral values. It is often asserted that, unlike several contemporary princely houses, the Dogra dynasty did not maintain a royal harem, reflecting a distinctive tradition of domestic propriety. Their conception of royalty rested not merely on hereditary authority but also on duty, honour, courage and responsibility towards their subjects. In this respect, they sought to uphold the ethical ideals associated with Kshatriya tradition.
Maharaja Pratap Singh refused to sanction the imposition of a water tax on his subjects when piped drinking water was made available to them. He considered charging people for such a basic necessity contrary to the principles of Dharma. His personal life was marked by deep religious devotion. He reportedly devoted nearly three hours every morning to puja. At around eleven o’clock, flowers from the palace were released into the Jhelum, allowing people along its banks to witness this daily religious ritual.
Secularism Under the Dogra Rulers: An Archival Record
Dogra rulers maintained a policy of funding educational and religious institutions of all communities. The Jammu and Kashmir Administrative Reports show grants-in-aid to Islamia Schools, Sanskrit Pathshalas, Christian missionary schools and Sikh schools from the same Education Department budget. Land for All Saints Church and Holy Family Catholic Church in Srinagar was granted during the Dogra period, while mosques, temples and gurudwaras were repaired through state grants. To remove Muslim educational backwardness, Maharaja Hari Singh introduced free and compulsory primary education, popularly called Jabri Taleem, and created special scholarships for Muslim students to study outside the state.
Khan Bahadur Khwaja Salam Shah Naqshbandi served the administration in the rule of Maharaja Pratap Singh and Maharaja Hari Singh and was associated with market regulation and later with education and the Muslim scholarship scheme. Prominent Muslims in Hari Singh's higher administration included Aga Syed Hussain Shah Jalali as Prime Minister (1936-38), Khwaja Ghulam Ahmad Ashai as Revenue Member and Sheikh Abdul Aziz as judicial officer. The Darbar officially celebrated Eid and Milad-un-Nabi as state holiday and was represented at the Eidgah congregation. Maharaja's personal establishment itself included Muslim cooks and staff, reflecting a household as composite as his state.
Maharaja Hari Singh established the Jammu and Kashmir Praja Sabha in 1934, the first legislative assembly in the state. The Sabha had 75 members ; 33 elected, 30 nominated by the Maharaja and 12 officials. Its first elected members included Sheikh Mohammad Abdullah from Srinagar, Mirza Mohammad Afzal Beg from Anantnag, Chaudhry Ghulam Abbas from Jammu and Pandit Prem Nath Dogra from Jammu. The Maharaja nominated prominent citizens to ensure composite representation, including Aga Syed Hussain Shah Jalali, Khwaja Ghulam Ahmad Ashai, Khan Bahadur Salam Shah Naqshbandi , and Colonel Peer Mohammad Khan. The Praja Sabha was the first platform where Kashmiri Muslims, Hindus, and Sikhs debated budgets, education and price control together under a Hindu Maharaja's constitution.
Conclusion:
A Consequential Chapter in Kashmir's Modern History
The
century of Dogra rule brought significant changes to Jammu and Kashmir's
physical infrastructure, public institutions and administration. Roads crossed
difficult mountain terrain; bridges improved river crossings; railways
strengthened external connections; canals supported agriculture; and
hydroelectricity introduced new technological possibilities. The Jhelum Weir
contributed to water-level management and navigation, while organised trout
culture demonstrated the application of scientific methods to fisheries.
The
Land Bandobast under Maharaja Pratap Singh brought a crucial administrative
dimension to this transformation. Through Walter Lawrence and his team's work,
Kashmir acquired more systematic land surveys, village maps, classifications
and revenue records. The settlement did not resolve every agrarian injustice,
but it established a durable foundation for land administration.
Hospitals
and colleges expanded modern public services. Translation departments and
printing presses supported scholarship. The silk industry and organised
fisheries broadened economic activity, while museums, libraries and courts
created institutions for preserving heritage and organising public life.
Aviation and broadcasting further extended the technological horizons of the
later princely period.
The
strongest case for recognising the Dogra legacy rests on these concrete
achievements. The period should not be obscured by an exclusively political
account of princely rule.
Dogra
rule was a period of consequential transition: from difficult physical
connectivity towards a more integrated transport network; from irregular land
administration towards systematic settlement records; from limited public
facilities towards enduring institutions; and from largely traditional systems
of communication towards printing, electricity, aviation and broadcasting.
These
changes left a substantial material and institutional inheritance. Their place
in the history of Jammu and Kashmir deserves to be recognised through careful
scholarship, historical perspective and a clear understanding of the lasting
significance of state-building.
(Avtar Mota)