“ I am guilty of lavishness, extravagance, profligacy and squandering. People often curse me for recklessness and being a spendthrift. Gluttony and gourmandism are often attributed to me. Many people condemn me for burdening the backs of the poor and crushing the economically weaker sections of society. But the fact is quite different. I am not as ostentatious as people have made me. I am rather a feast of a few cuisines that adorn and embellish Kashmir marriages, functions and get-togethers. My aroma gives Kashmir a royal tinge. Souls of yesteryear would relish my company. Simplicity was my station. So were the ancestors of Kashmir – austere and simple. But the modern Kashmiris have embraced ostentation and pretence to manufacture the false sense of awe. The pomp and show of contemporary Kashmiris is adding venom to my elixir-like gravy.
I and Kashmir are like nail and flesh, quite inextricable. My omission makes Kashmir marriages Insipid and unsavoury. I am the emblem of Kashmiriyat, the king of non-veg delicacies. I am the ambassador of Kashmir across the globe. I carry forward the rich cultural legacy of our ancestors, and let everyone know that our past has been gloriously magnificent and sublime. My aroma unlatches sunken taste buds, and adds new lease of life to weak and ill. My spices give a therapeutic touch to bellies and stomachs. My aromatic wafts entice in appetent souls.
But human rapacity, flaunt and pompous instincts have jinxed me. Greedy men have brought a bad name to me. The mount on the Trami ( Copper Plate ) has climbed viciously; unnecessary and bizarre innovations have tarnished my image. Chicken was never a part of my culinary system, but the heirs of pious and God-fearing Kashmiris have added two to three kinds of chicken cuisines to me. Pounded mutton dishes except Kabaab were never part of my opening menu. But now, drones, pears, rotis and whatnot have elevated the pile further. Very recently, a mulish bullock-head sent a Trami of wazwan weighing 50 KGs to his son-in-law’s home. The news not only shocked the netizens but saddened them terribly as well, and they registered their resentment and anger on different social media platforms.
These juices, soft drinks, plastic wares, chocolates, chewing-gums, fancy fruit bowls, sugar candies and toffees were never kin to me. Will anyone dare to question those idiots who have adulterated my cuisines with such corroded novelties? I hang my head in shame at the hypocrisy of Ibni-Adam. Who has asked him to stuff coins into my Ristas (Pounded meat balls)? Why has the size of my Gushtaba swollen to the size of a football? A buffoon stepped out of the line so bizarrely that he served cigarette packs to invitees. Excessive and unnecessary dishes have belittled me. But, believe me, I am not to be blamed. It is the caliph of Allah who has breached the fragile line. Poor girls and their parents are shattered, but I am not behind their plight. It is the finest creation of Allah SWT who should be held responsible for the predicament of poor and destitute. Immoderation and exorbitance have become the order of the day in the Peer Vaer.
I vividly remember the time when a single bull was enough to feast an entire village. Every soul was served, every heart was full. But today, dozens of sheep fail to satiate the hunger of Kashmiris. The number and size of dishes have grown manifold, but the love, warmth and strength in relationships have withered away. We have enlarged our Tramis but shrunk our bonds. Our ancestors bloomed with strength after consuming me, but now, I have been taking revenge on modern Kashmiris for his brazen show-off. I no longer give him strength; I only bulge his belly, letting him drown in the storm of fatty liver, diabetes and hypertension.
I wonder if the viceroy of Allah (SWT) on the earth is really human? Greed has latched onto his wits; he can no longer distinguish between fair and foul. He has fallen below the very standards of humanity. Even the beasts of the jungle seek refuge from his brutality. My Roganjosh, Marche-Wangan Korma, Aab Gosh and Tabakmaaz are mourning the callous and insensitive attitude of Ibni-Adam. I too am fed up with his swanking. If less than ten dishes can suffice the purpose, why is he hell-bent on preparing dozens? Has he been bitten by rabid dogs? Let someone tell him that he is the crown of this creation. I feel choked and gagged. Will someone liberate me from the bondage of Kashmiri braggarts? May your conscience prick you !”
Mr Wazwan stood still and silent at the podium for a few moments, as if he froze into a statue of ice. He couldn’t leave the dais instantly. Every head in the auditorium bowed down in reverence, and a heavy pin-drop silence swept through the hall.
A moment later, the hall erupted as every person rose to accord Mr Wazwan a standing ovation for the eloquent and inspiring monologue.
(The author is a Teacher and a Columnist. He can be reached at mushtaqhurra143@gmail.com)
