Aasha Khosa

Do children still play with water balls? In my childhood, these apple-sized balls made of thick rubber were the main attraction for children during the annual picnic-cum-pilgrimage to Mata Kshir (Kheer) Bhawani temple in Tulamula, Kashmir, on the Zyestha Ashtami day. 

The ball (not balloon) stalls were put up outside the temple on both sides of the lawn-fringed corridor to the shrine. First, a hand pumped machine filled the ball with water and then it was tied with a thick rubber string. The ballwalla made us hold one end of rubber string while taking the money. Walking back from the lawns, we hopped and jumped, swinging the ball up and down, left and right like a pendulum, and drawing circles in the air. The sturdy ball survived for days or till an angry sibling or a cousin pricked it.

Kashmiri Pandits thronging the Shrine in Tulamula village

In Kashmir, festivals used to be a lot of fun with no harsh rules for prayers and devotion or security concerns. Devotion being a personal affair between an individual and his creator, the pilgrimage was an experience even for children.

No wonder, we, the children – or maybe elders also - looked forward to this outing and our extended family's get-together. Children like me living in Jammu had summer holidays and therefore were entitled to all the fun. The families reached the temple a couple of days in advance and settled down under one of the several Chinar trees. A makeshift kitchen was set up on the platform around the huge trees, and waguv mats made of dried reeds would be laid out to cover the cold stone-floor.

Sleeping under the open skies with stars gazing at us was an unforgettable experience. During the daytime, we walked to the nearby river and made friends with local boat children. Sometimes, they allowed us to board their small shikaras and ride to a small distance. It was quite an adventure.

Devotees lighting the diyas

When elders took a nap, we would sneak out to play hide and seek. The hollow trunks of Chinars – hundreds of years old - in the compound were perfect hiding places. The girth of each Chinar could easily hide two of us from the eyes of the den. Taking a mandatory dip in the holy tankbefore the prayers  was a must and we children never felt like coming out of till an elder came and scolded us out.

Heavens descended at the time of evening congregational prayers. The Aarti, an invocation to the Goddess went up in a crescendo; diyas burning bright around the pentagonal spring of emerald waters created magic. The flowers showered in reverence of the Goddess floated and made fascinating patterns.  

Early risers like me would mop the periphery of the spring asking the Goddess for good scores in examination in return. Lighting diyas was sheer fun for children. The spring water changed colours, at least, we were made to believe it did. The colour changed from one hue of emerald blue to another. My mother told me that once when she was a child, the water of the spring had turned nearly black or red, signifying the rage of the Goddess.

A view of the holy spring - blue waters and a tapastry of flowers

Devotees tried to propitiate the Goddess with all-night prayers only to learn that the wholesale market of Srinagar at Maharajgunj was gutted.

On the festival day, the place will be jam-packed with people; one would bump into many friends and family here. Children would be much in demand for partaking Prasad of mostly sujji ka halwa; the dish never tastes as good these days.

One of my most abiding memories of the place is of a pink georgette dupatta that I received as a gift in Kanya Poojan there. It was my first dupatta and remained with me till it degenerated into a rag.

The newly wedded women offering prayers at the shrine

I want to breathe the air infused with the smell of Chinar, get my senses drenched in the fragrance of the spring, flowers, and the River, and also eat Lucchi and Nadaer monja (Lotus stem fritters) sold there on this day; do star gazing, sleep on the waguv, hide in the crevices of Chinars to complete my nostalgia trip.

Also Read: The Kashmir Files has unplugged emotional baggage of Kashmiri Pandits

Will the Goddess answer our prayers and make Kashmir peaceful?