Every society has some cultural legacy from which a person learns how they should behave. While growing up, the cultural influence consciously or unconsciously makes one familiar about certain things. By and by, one learns what convenient choice one can make and cannot. At an early age, one learns most of it through the interaction with his/her family, relatives, neighbors, guests and family friends. And most of this knowledge transfers orally and while living in that society.
In Kashmir, we have this legacy of storytelling and book reading sessions for our children and adults alike, which influenced the psyche of our ancestors to a great extent. It goes like this: 10 to 20 people would gather at someone’s house and listen to the kitabkhaan or raconteur, who would read out the folktales in Kashmiri with a tinge of singing in his voice.
The book reading sessions and storytelling would usually begin from November, ahead of Harud and marriage season in the vale, and would end by the end of March, when the marriage season would restart, followed by the harvesting of the paddy. One of the readers we talked to is Assadullah, 70, who hails from Anantnag’s Bon Dialgam village. This raconteur still organizes these sessions at his friends’ or relatives’ places.
He attended middle school in his locality but dropped out as he was more interested in farming than going for a government job. “In those times, wherever one wanted to go, he/she could; whatever one’s interests, he/she could follow,” recounts Assadullah who possesses 34 canals of farming land. As people used to be multi-skilled, every person had a choice to do whatever he liked besides farming, which was a kind of a chore for men. He liked reading books, and between the Rabi and Khareef seasons, he had enough time to read whatever he could get his hands on.
Usually, the sessions would begin after dinner and continue till late midnight. At times, wherever there was suspense in the story, The kitabkhaan would stop and start only after a promise of some gifts or a monetary reward. Often, the Fajr Azaan would remind people that it was time to stop.
The most read stories were Gul-e-Bakowali, Gul Raze, Yusuf Zulaikha, Jang-e-Taal, Khadij-Namah et al. These stories have little historical authenticity. One wonders how fiction could have been written with such liberty, including writings about prophets, their wives and companions. Assadullah says, “These stories are translated from Arabic, Persian, Hindi and Urdu. Every translator gives a citation from where he translated these books and the dates of original books. Some are as old as 700 years but their translation is only a couple of centuries old.”
Here we can see that the authenticity or the literal truth wasn’t important, the message and the meanings were. These books became a source of guidance for tens of hundreds of our predecessors. After hearing these stories, the interpretation was left for individuals to decide. The individual would by and by understand which part was truth and which part was there to keep the interest of the listener.
Listening was as important as the recitation of the story. As a mark of respect, one needed to be conscious and couldn’t yawn or show any sign of resignation. At times, the kitabkhaan would engage his listeners in some discussion or he would make them predict what will happen in the story thereafter.
This art of book reading doesn’t only demand a person to be well versed in the Kashmiri language or historical knowledge of Middle-Eastern and Central-Asian culture, one needs to have recitation skills as well. That is why the kitaabkhan is still revered in the vale.
However, this art is slowly dying and only a handful of people know how to conduct reading sessions. Strangely and significantly, this art didn’t transform with the transformation of the modern education system in Kashmir. Assadullah makes some vital observations, “The distractions like the TV and other entertaining gadgets replaced people’s interests. Also, due to the distribution of education to the masses after the 1990s, people considered such knowledge obsolete. Moreover, the Kashmiri language wasn’t included in the curriculum until lately.”
Leave these books alone; leave these readers alone, and their ways of reciting these books, which most of us will term as old fashioned; but what about the essence in this historical and cultural event-the Book Reading Session? Why did that die? How did that pass through our history unnoticed? How did storytelling evade the modern collective memory?
Is speed responsible for this? Because, on one hand, everybody is always in a hurry, while on the other hand, people have ample time for everything- social networks, silly indoor games, having futile discussions on Bollywood, cricket leagues, etc. That makes people street-smart but not knowledgeable.
Only a few want to learn actually. Students brag around their school curriculum, because that prepares them to earn their living, which is important. But guidance, wisdom, knowledge and learning about one’s society and surroundings are important too, and that comes from readings and discussions, not from posting on social websites.
Assadullah laments, “I am sorry. I don’t find that thirst in you people. You know who I call mature? Maturity means making adjustments in life so that one can follow his/her interests and go to school or college as well.” His message to all of us is that we should, “Read and recreate the collective book-reading sessions in whichever way we like.”
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