A walk along the path around the Dal Lake is a very pleasant. It cannot be said that it is around the corner, if it starts from Polo Ground in the west, it goes through the eastern side and passes the Duck Park in the north to Maulana Rumi Gate. There is no fixed time, day or determination for that walk. Walk when you have time. The length of this road will be six to seven kilometers. From Maulana Rumi Gate, go east for about half a kilometer to reach my room. However, at any time Shikaras can be seen floating in the Dal Lake. Shikaras filled with fruits and vegetables. But some will be full of flowers.
Many food items are sold in Shikara. Their scent can overpower the scent of flowers. Because many people would be cooking food at Shikara. When that smell penetrates our nose, our stomach will be screaming with hunger. Shikaras selling Kashmiri carpets, cloths and wool can be seen moving on the surface of the Dal Lake.
Both foreigners and locals come to see the sights on this road. There are many businesses here. Many people see Dal Lake as the breadwinner.
If you look at the street vendors, you will see their bellies sticking out. Belly like pregnant women. They are inside the long robes they are wearing
“Kongdi” must have been hidden. There will be a cage the size of a flowerpot and an earthen pot in it. It is filled with fire coals and some water on top of it, and then the basket is tied around the waist under a long shirt. “Kongdi” is said with that. It helps to keep the body warm. With this “Kongdi” basket tied around their waist and both hands in the pocket of their long shirt, they go about their work or shops.
A photographer’s dream come true. Flowers of various colors. But there are some flowers which are found only in Kashmir.
Shikara means a special form of boats found in the Dal Lake. They are also decorated with many colors. And you will see a roof over it.
Two-seater Shikaras are more common for tourists. But there are also multi-person, larger ones.
The two-seaters are covered with colorful cloths to hide the youngs frolicking.
The gondolas in Vietnam are not so beautiful.
A world of colors can be seen in the Dal Lake.
Often the entire Suburban Range on the east side of the lake is covered in snow. Pieces of that snow blanket will be spread all the way to Dal Lake.
When nature’s cotton coat is shed, the scattered cotton balls will lie like a hat on the colorful flowers of the tulip garden between the lake and the mountain ranges. Tulip plants as children in colorful uniforms line the school grounds. Here tulip flowers bloom only from January to March or April. That’s when thousands of people come to see it.
After Nehru Park and the post office, walk west again and there is a small shop. A small empty space in front of that shop. A few paintings are seen there. I think that one day I should go there and see the paintings. But I never saw that shop open. There will always be some old pictures. One thing I was sure of was that those pictures were put there every day by someone. Because they tend to be displaced. I felt that those four pictures were still waiting for someone there.
All those pictures were of Dal Lake. Views from the lake to the lake. But Shikara and its merchandise and passengers are characters in it. Can’t tell if darker dyes were used because everything is starting to fade.
One day I saw the name of that shop. “Mahi Paintings” is written on the wall in beautiful handwriting.
I walked there wearing a big long shirt with “Kongdi” tucked inside. It is not a shop, in fact it is house . These pictures are placed on the slope in front of the house. Knocked on the door. Pressed the bell switch. It is not known whether the bell rang inside the house. Then he looked at the door. The doors opened wide.
When I went inside, I saw a lot of pictures. Mostly tulip flowers. It is a small house. I wait there for a while. No one came. I wrote a note there.
“Call me” and mentioned my number.
I put my hands in my coat pocket and walked out.
In the evening a man called out a rhythmic voice. More like a music than saying hello. I told him I want to see him. In response he asked several questions. Why to see me? Where did you come from? and so on. But finally he agreed to meet.
The next day I went there an hour before the time he said. Then he was packing something.
He said: “I know you.. I saw you coming here yesterday, from afar.”
I looked at him carefully. He continued…
“I stayed away yesterday because I saw you. Aren’t you from Bangalore?”
I laughed. “Yes, I came here to do some research. About the Pandits here.”
He didn’t seem to hear.
He said: “I’m afraid of everybody now. Nobody comes anywhere. Sometimes somebody comes to buy my paintings, but not regulerly.”
Hindi mixed with Kashmiri is very pleasant to listen. When I met him in Bangalore, he spoke to me in Kannada.
I said, “Where did you leave me alone in the hospital? Remember when you gave me a picture a few years ago?’
He smiled with a surprised face.
I continued, “It was a picture of tulips with a girl… a girl with her back turned.”
He said: “Yes. Yes..…”
Me: “I understand you painted that acrylic painting here.”
He looked around, then looked at the tulip garden over there.
“In that picture you could see the ridge of a lake.’’
He stared at me.
“I think the child holding a basket of flowers beside the flowers is your child.”
He shook his head.. “Yes. Yes… .. My own younger sister” he continued “Now here…?”
I said, “Just came to make a photo report” and promised to say more at a later date.
“Then don’t hide when I come.. You heard!”
He grabbed my hand.. “No.. I will be here”
I greeted him and went out. I recollected past incident in Bangalore while walking back to the room.
His painting shop was near my house in Bangalore. Then I just moved into that house after marriage.
My marriage was also a little uneventful. At that time I was in to freelance photography used to cover various programs. One day I went to take pictures of the inmates living there for an organization that does voluntary service. There I saw a girl, a white and thin girl. Her name is Madhunisha. Got to know her and liked her.
She speaks Hindi so heartily that she stole my heart. An orphan girl. As I am an orphan, I want an orphan girl to get married. That voluntary organization conducted our marriage.
I didn’t ask about her past or her home town. I thought not necessary. She didn’t ask me about my past either. I have decided that it is enough for both of them to know the things after marriage.
She didn’t go out much. Always stay at home and do housework.
At first she looked very gloomy. I did everything I could to make her happy. She likes watching TV very much. Gradually she started celebrating her life with me.
It was not like shop or showroom. As he lives now, a small House, in front of which he will arrange some pictures. Used to keep more pictures in side the house. . Once or twice he used to sell some paintings along a main street in Bangalore. Many people came and looked, but very few purchased. Because I was there for a while that same day to take some photos.
One thing I noticed at the time was that his paintings were mostly of Kashmir, Dal Lake, Shikaras and Suburban hills. And a girl as a guard for all that. Many images filled my mind.
I have also seen some foreigners buying his pictures, unframed and rolling them up.
A year passed and we had a baby girl. We named her Dayanita.
I mostly saw acrylic paintings with him. I used to buy oil paintings. I remembered that he had not done much in oil medium.
Some paintings will make figures in plaster of Paris. Example A plant and flowers. It will be rendered in 2D form on canvas. Twigs and flowers will be rising. The higher parts are plastered with plaster of paris and then colored. They were very beautiful pictures.
I only knew his name as “Mahi”. Because that was all that was written in his paintings. That too in Hindi. Even that was very beautiful. When Mahi is written in Hindi, the notes above the line looks like the turban of Kashmiri Pandits.
Years ago, when he came to Bangalore, he used to wear a “Phiran”. Phiran is a type of clothing worn by Kashmiri Pandits. And a hat that says ” karakul”. This hat is made from the hair of the goats. So it is very smooth and beautiful. Later he started wearing normal shirt and pants line Bengaluru people.
At the end of the nineties, he moved somewhere. I thought he might have gone to Bombay or other city. The Jahangir Art Gallery in Mumbai is very famous, It is heaven for artists. Paintings like this are sold for huge prices in this art gallery.
Many years have passed since then. I saw him again recently.
Didn’t think it would be the last encounter in Bangalore. Corona is raging in this city. When I am at home without any work. Where does a freelance photographer go and what to photograph? Sometimes I go to hospitals and take pictures and give them to the media. That was the only income. In some months it was difficult to even pay the house rent from the income. Therefore, the balance in the bank shrunk.
One day Mahi unexpectedly stands at the door. He said he wanted a place to stay for two days. Can’t get a room anywhere.
I asked “How do you know I’m here?”
Mahi: “I know that, brother.. I have people who know me here.. I get all your information.”
I invited him in and arranged accommodation. At that time my wife and daughter were in Mysore with her husband.
Two or three days passed since he arrived. I got Corona. I felt breathing problem.
I didn’t tell my wife that I got corona. What to do when she comes! She also does not need to be infected with Corona.
Mahi called all the hospitals and asked if they can be admitted. After a lot of phone calls, I was able to get a bed in a hospital.
Mahi himself made all the arrangements to admit me to the hospital. A large number of them were hospitalized for two weeks.
That was the last time I saw him.
After a few days I was discharged and returned home.
When he went home, the house was closed. Mahi was not there. I looked for the house key everywhere, under the carpet in front of the door, in the plant pot, on the shoe rack and so on. Didn’t get it. It took some time for the carpenters to come and open the door due to the fear of Corona.
When I opened the door, there was nothing inside the house. Almost all electronics were missing. That Mahi took everything away.
I didn’t feel bad that it was all gone. Because I felt that the favors he had done for me were much greater than that.
I got few paintings of Mahi. All those are pictures with tulip background. Tried calling him several times. All that time his mobile was switched off.
I felt scared. Did he get corona too? Will there be any hospital stay? I didn’t feel bad about taking my household stuff. He must have spent a lot of money in the hospital.
Among those pictures I found a note.
“I am going to Kashmir. To my native land. Now all our relatives have started moving to native Kashmir. I want to die in my native land.
Wish you all the best.
Lovingly
Mahindra Kemu.
So I came in front of this house looking for him.
The next day I set out again to see Mahi. A girl opened door with creek sound.
She called “Abba ..someone has come..”
A reply was heard in Kashmiri from inside.
Mahi came out.
“Oh.. you!” He smiled at me. “Now tell me, did you come here for me?”
I said: “I said no. I came to prepare a photo report.”
He looked at the camera in my hand and realized something.
I asked, “But let me ask you one thing, why did you steal all the things from my house?”
He looked at me in surprise, “Stealing?” He continued to stare at me.
“After you were admitted to the hospital, I was only there for two days. When I tried to visit you in the hospital, the hospital staff refused.”
Mahi continued looking at the road.
“So I left the place after hiding the house key where I kept my slippers.”
I looked at him suspiciously.
“We Pandits do not lie..”
I said to myself.. ‘Let it all go.. Some thieves must have stolen it’
I asked: “Why did you come to Bangalore earlier? I have not asked you that.”
He sighed, “Fear.. just fear.”
Me: “Afraid! Why?”
He said: “I told you that I had a sister, can you see it in an old photo?” He walked through the courtyard through the pictures around.. “she.. she…. ” His eyes filled with water. “They raped her, I haven’t seen her since.. I don’t know if they killed her or deported her.”
I slowly walked towards him.
He continued: “I also destroyed those who killed her.. right here.”
I looked at him in surprise. My mouth went dry. Unable to speak.
“How is that?” I asked.
That time he smiled with a peculiar twist on his face, “A small accident.. that’s all.”
Me: “Where”
“Right here .. they have gone and hid somewhere between these snowy mountains. I came to Bangalore because I was afraid of their people…”
He continued, “Now we have our village back.”
He entered the house and took out a painting from a cupboard.
He held it out to me. A girl is standing against the background of tulip flowers. The color has faded. But the face is clearly visible.
Unknowingly, my hands moved to my pants pocket.. When I took my purse, a photo fell from it.. Before he saw it, I took my wife’s photo and put it in my shirt pocket.
