The untold heroics of Kantha in the hinterland of Kashmir

- Prithvi's daughter.

The vast saffron fields, apple orchards, bent cherry trees, unending rice fields, springs, lakes,  meandering rivers,  the beautiful valley of Kashmir shielded by mountains was home to ‘The Pandits’ – Kashmiri Brahmin families, popularly known as ‘Battas’, who had coexisted with Muslim neighbors for centuries. 

Prithvi along with his wife Lakshmi lived in Kilam Village, District- Kulgam of Kashmir.  Prithvi was a very honest, hardworking, Pandit gentleman who taught in the nearby government middle school. His father Sudharshan had passed away when he was 21.

Prithvi was the sole earning member in his family of 16, which included his 4 teenage brothers, a sister and his 6 children, Kantha was the eldest. With a meager salary of Rs. 16 and some paddy fields, he had mastered the art of managing with little. He shielded his family from economic crisis and at the same time ensured that his teenage brothers and his own children focus on studies.

Lakshmi, Prithvi’s humorous, energetic, flamboyant wife always wanted to lead a luxurious life; however she had come to terms with her current condition. But, somewhere deep down she always dreamt of fate taking a U-turn and waking up as a millionaire.

Kantha, the eldest daughter was a dare devil and an extremely creative person.  In spite of the fact that she was living in a male dominated society, she would test her tree climbing skills quite often. Prithvi would watch with amazement, his little daughter climbing up and down the tallest trees, which even the best men dreaded to climb. He used to secretly admire her little daughter’s strength, agility and will power but never allowed this feeling to come on his face, lest the society he was living in might detest him of approving a girl of carrying such activities.

 Kantha was an excellent swimmer also, much to dismay of her mother Lakshmi, who didn’t approve of her men like traits. She was quite often being counseled by her parents to stay off such activities. She would quietly listen, switch to her creative world of weaving woolen sweaters and other fancy stuff and then return back to her so called masculine skills, the moment things subsided.

‘Harchoun’, was the stream flowing right in front of the house.  The family had constructed a wooden bridge to cross this stream.  ‘Dandher’, spaces adjacent to windows provided excellent view of the stream. The only sound audible in the night was that of the flowing water of ‘Harchoun’. The sound of the ‘Harchoun’ was a delight, as if a mother patting her kid to sleep.

Prithvi was a practical person but at the same time had a spiritual inclination. He would get up early in the morning; take a dip in the ‘Harchoun’ and the resort to his ‘Thokur Kuth’, a small temple in the house.  He would follow with elaborate and intricate ritual of decorating ‘saleh gram’, Shiva Linga and other deities with flowers and ‘Chandan’.  Prithvi would spend a couple of hours carrying out different religious and spiritual practices which he had learnt over a period of time. 

Many seasons passed, everything seemed to be picture perfect although family had its share of ups and downs, until one fine day family woke up and saw the little stream in front of their house swell up due the recent downpour, which hadn’t stopped for past 3 days. 

The family was aghast at the way the water from the stream was swelling up and was creasing to the four storied house. A sense of panic struck Prithvi, he had to do something before the inevitable struck. He made up his mind and decided that he would shift his family to the house in the backyard, which was raised at a better elevation than the one in front of the stream. 

He started moving out the children one by one from the front house to the one in backyard, taking every precaution so that he doesn’t slip or losses grip on his children. With utmost caution, he moved out everyone in the family to backyard house.