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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