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 My
mother's maternal grandfather Prasad Ram Zutshi, a Kashmiri Pandit,
was born in 1860, soon after the Sepoy Mutiny. He was in the service
of the Maharaja of Kashmir as the Kotwal (Chief of Police) of
Srinagar. Rich and famous, he lived in a big luxurious house in the
posh Zui Lanker locality. This was a lush green island, near the
suburb of Rainawari, surrounded by a beautiful stream, which ran into
the Dal Lake. The residence was actually a cluster of houses. There
were separate houses for men and women and another for receiving
guests and others for holding meetings and conducting functions. Each
was connected to the others by exquisitely carved footbridges and one
could move through the complex without coming out of the cluster and
without being seen.
Each building had a basement. One had a large kitchen used during
functions and marriages, where vessels for those occasions were also
stored. Another housed cattle and horses and a third was for storing
grains, drying vegetables for the winter and working on grinding
stones or spinning wheels. The ceilings in the houses were painted and
inlaid with coloured glass. There were pictures of amorous couples
painted on the walls of the bedrooms, under which Rubaiyats of Omar
Khayyam were calligraphed. Each bedroom had several carved balconies
with wooden jalis (grills), each of a different design.
My mother remembers her visits to the big house, reaching there in a
horse-driven carriage through the narrow road connecting the island to
Rainawari. Once there, she used to wander from room to room, never
tiring of making new discoveries. The Kotwal was a terror to thieves
and robbers, many of whom had became his sworn enemies. One of them
was a famous dacoit named Layukh (the able one), whom he kept always
on the run.
A huge and burly man, the Kotwal ate and drank a lot and died young,
leaving his wife Ranim (Rani) a rich widow. With all her daughters
married and her only son and the rest of her cousins and many loyal
servants dying in the great plague; she eventually lived alone in the
huge house. Layukh started terrorizing her after the death of her
husband. and other male members. He wanted revenge and her gold. But
Ranim was also smart. She kept her gold and jewellery in a sack tied
to her waist under her firan (long woolen kaftan) and kept vigil at
nights. Layukh often passed her bedroom window and shouted, " Ranim,
are you awake" and she would reply, "Yes, I am mourning your death".
They had this love-hate relationship for years.
Once when he broke into her house, she jumped out of her window on to
the back of her horse and escaped into the night, gold and all.
Another time, when she was not at home, Layukh and his gang broke in,
but found nothing of value. They were so frustrated that, to spite
her, they defiled her kitchen by defecating there, sure that it would
greatly upset the Brahmin lady. Of course, she had to perform
purificatory rituals and replaster the kitchen with fresh cow dung.
Ranim was a legend. The dacoit could never outwit her. She was brave,
bold and brazen and too independent for her times. Thankfully, her
spirit has survived in all the women in our family.
Layukh came to a bad end. Chased by the police, he jumped from the
Kathi Darwaja (the big gate of the Hari Parvat Fort). He had often
done it, but this time, he lost his balance. Instead of landing on his
feet, he fell on his stomach and died on the spot. Ranim missed him
and the sense of adventure he lent her life. But she slept peacefully
the rest of her nights. Ranim had four daughters and one son. One of
the girls was my grandmother Devaki, later known as Tara, born in
1900, the eldest and the most beautiful of the sisters. When she was
five, she was married to eight-year-old Tara Chand Tiku. In those
days, child marriages were the order of the day. At times matches were
made even before the children were born. This was because of the
inordinate importance attached to getting daughters married off.
(To be continued…)
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