One of the most intricate and indigenous human traits is the ability to perceptively glean and narrate experiences. In literary parlance, this falls under the category of narrative craft. Every eye that keenly observes its surroundings carries a compassionate impulse that seeks to nurture the essence, while the mind architects a map that charts the trajectory, revealing the sequence of elements or events and synthesizing them into an organic whole. All the characters that constitute a story are not mundane archetypes; they are like pigeons nursed within the inner sanctum of the story writer. He lives alongside them, ensuring his characters become remarkable and pulsating with life. Ultimately, what makes a story compact and impactful is the use of symbols that connect the plot with the cultural heritage of its setting.
The Pigeons of my Sanctum by Bashir Aarif is a Kashmiri short story collection. The stories of his stature are rare treat for the reader. These stories are hewn from the land we inhabit, they are not derivatives or merely inspired art pieces, but a visceral account of our times. The characters, in particular, are drawn from the local setting, the names they carry the weight of a tightly knit society. These names keep the story rooted to the ancestral profession and social history; therefore, these characters serve as a bridge to connect us with the yore and often compels us to pause and reflect on how our past and contemporary social fabric varies. These names anchor the narrative in ancestral professions and social lineage; consequently, the characters serve to conduit to connect us to days of yore. This often compels us to pause and contemplate on the stark divergence between our heritage and the contemporary social fabric.
The Mulberry Tree, standing between the two families living in proximity, serves as a living boundary where no formal borders were ever drawn. The Tree stands as the sole sentinel demarcating the land. This culture in the story is one of the striking features that transports us back to the bygone era, a time when lines and latitudes were not etched into the hearts of the people. Bashir Aarif does not merely narrate a tale through characters, he stirs our intellect, prompting us to think outside the confines of the ordinary.
Bhrasht depicts the ordeal of Seider, a widow with three unmarried daughters. A Pandit named Badri Nath lives in her home as a tenant. In keeping with a tragic social routine, rumors and gossip begin to erode a rich human relationship that should have been beyond religious barriers. The towns people employ all manner of vitriolic slander to defame Seider and Badri Nath. Bashir Aarif presents a society riddled with flaws, offering a blunt and sharp critique of this status quo. As the story reaches its conclusion, the true nature of their bond is brought to the fore, leaving everyone stunned. The campaign of defamation ends with Seider’s mournful cry, revealing that she has been deprived of a 'Pandit brother.' Aarif establishes that human needs are universal and that life persists beyond ill-will. The fraternal love in the story serves as a collective indictment of a society that, instead of offering support, creates hurdles and seeks to malign the sanctity of human connection.
Shyutsh (Ritual Purity). It is a breathtaking narrative of conventional religiosity and the universal needs of a man. Rajnath had brought in a dog gifted to him by his boss, but his conventional wife did not allow the dog to stay, resulting in its death in the winter chill. Rajnath would take money for the animal’s care from his boss on one pretext or the other. One day, when the boss asked him to bring the dog back to celebrate its birthday, Rajnath was taken aback, but he did not lose heart and picked up a stray puppy. This created havoc, but his drama not only regained the sympathy of the boss but also earned him a hundred-rupee note so that the dog could be seen by a doctor. The author has crafted a story out of an unusual incident and has couched it with the hollow religiosity of Rajnath’s wife and Rajnath’s own needs. He brings forth the culture of an English couple vis-à-vis a traditional Hindu family. The puppy that died still paid for the family, highlighting a macabre irony. The author suggests that when religion becomes so rigid that it cannot allow for a living creature, it forces the human heart into deception.
Blunder (Atur). It depicts a bond between the Kashmiri Pandit and Muslim communities. Mohan Ji, a government official, discovers that his daughter Anjali has gone missing, creating havoc in the neighbourhood. Later, it is discovered that she had gone to Gulmarg with Farooq, the son of Qadir. Despite the panic and the potential for communal disharmony, Mohan Ji refuses to label the incident as an abduction.
Gopa, a pet dog belonging to Hassa Lala’s family. The story portrays Gopa as a member of the community and waits for scraps near the baker’s shop. Its world is limited to Hassa Lala’s house to baker’s shop. The story takes a tragic turn when the Municipal Committee orders the poisoning of stray dogs. Gopa is accidentally poisoned because it was not wearing collar (belt). The story serves as a critique of administrative apathy.
Aaav Ha Aaav Ha is a story that signifies the rumors and sightings of a leopard near a shrine. Atiqa is desperate to see the animal, while her husband is skeptical and concerned with the "rumour-mongering" prevailing in Kashmir. The government brings in a special team from Delhi to capture the leopard. Eventually, the animal is domesticated and put on display in an exhibition, performing tricks for the public, symbolizes the stripping away of its natural majesty for human entertainment.
Kanz (The Mortar) tells the story of Amma Lala, who moves from his ancestral home in Zaldagar to a new house in Barzulla. He is obsessed with bringing his old stone mortar to the new house, despite his sons’ preference for modern grinders and mixers. For Amma Lala, the mortar represents his heritage and the "purity" of hand-ground spices. During a night of unrest and firing, he uses the heavy mortar to barricade the gate. The story ends tragically when he is shot while trying to secure the gate, literally dying beside the object that linked him to his past. The Mortar is not just a traditional grinder but it carries a sense of security to protect the family from any untoward situation living in conflict zone.
I’m in severe pain is an allegorical piece involving a dialogue between the Dal Lake and Anchar Lake. The Dal Lake is portrayed as being "sick" and "suffocated" by the filth and encroachment of human beings. The lake expresses its pain over its lost beauty and the "poison” it is forced to carry. The story highlights the environmental degradation of Kashmir’s water bodies through a personified narrative of the lakes' suffering.
In this House features Ghulam Nabi, who becomes emotional while looking at an old, framed photograph of Master Deena Nath in an abandoned house. During his daughter's wedding, which is interrupted by heavy rain, Ghulam Nabi seeks shelter in a vacant Pandit house. Finding the photo of his old teacher, he begins to "talk" to it, reminiscing about the old neighborhood and the people who left. The story highlights the lingering ghost of the exodus and the deep nostalgia of those who remained for their departed neighbours.
In the Inn focuses on Mahishar Nath, an elderly man living in a flat in Jammu/Delhi with his sons Bhushan and Shuban. He feels like a stranger in this new environment and spends his time in prayer and longing for his home in Srinagar. His sons, now modernized and settled in their professional lives, have little patience for his traditional rituals and nostalgia. The story portrays the alienation and "homelessness" felt by the older generation in the diaspora.
The final story The Pigeons of my Sanctum serves as the emotional and symbolic anchor of the entire collection. The "pigeons" represent the characters and memories that the author has nurtured within his "inner sanctum" over decades of observation.
Bashir Aarif’s narrative craft is a compassionate impulse that transforms a sensitive observation into coherent whole. His storytelling is both derivative of inspired art and an account of the Kashmiri experience, rooted deeply in the land's social history and ancestral professions. Aarif treats his characters not as routine archetypes, but as "pigeons nursed within the inner sanctum" of his mind, breathing life.
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