“Helloo”
“Helloo’
‘Wani get ready you are coming with me to zeeth yaar’
“Zeeth yaar , where the hell is that? . cze ma karnawakh me encounter”
“Cze @@#$$%^&*(**&^^ .lagu palaw jaldi . its in the lap of zabarwan hills , grand palace se thoda aage. you will enjoy it”
“Ok. Report here in half an hour.’
So half an hour later I found myself with Faheem driving through our busy but slow city. Secretariat , fly over , lal chowk , ma road , trc ,gupkar , grand palace. Every bodys mind is programmed to tunr left near grand palace towards boulevard.
I askd, cze kot pakan seudi ?
That’s where we have to go . climb that hill.
For the first time in my life I didn’t turn left near grand palace but continued straight on. We zoomed past the hotel gate. Just a few hundered yards down the hotel mgate we were stopped at a check point.
“Where to ?”
“Mandir”
“Mandir?? Enquired the police guy looking at my beard.”
“Not actually mandir , we have to meet Bansi lal”
“Ah , you can go.”
“Ye bansi saeb kusu, Faheema?”
“The care taker of the mandir and our customer”
A ten minutes drive up the serpentine road brought us to a large iron gate.my friend stopped the car , pushed up the hand brake as if to strangulate the tyres. And we got down.the iron gate was loked like an elaborate hood wink . it was locked and insurmountable. But my driend took me to one side and opened a small wicket gate and we stepped in.
My eyes began surveying the scenery around.in front of me stood an immense expanse of one part of the hill. This part was stabilized by a retaining wall. The only structures visible were a small house and a stair case.
We began climbing the stairs . stairway to heaven I remarked.
All this was giving me a strong sense of déjà-vu. Faheema yi ha Makhdoom Saebun hui.
Ahnu barabar.
I hope there are not as many stairs , said i
The gain in altitude with every step gave a clearer view. Solitude reigned all around . I turned around led ny some deep instinct and saw the dal lake far far away small and motion less as if stuck to the ground paralysed.
Near the top end of the stair my friend stopped and turned left to enter the house.
Adab arz
Adab
Walsa beta
After a small business talk. I heard the man coming towards me. Beta ji waliw andar kun.
He was wearing a pheran ( quite unusual for September)
“no uncleji its too good here . we will sit here”
wala darshan karith ha yemo ,said i
and we climbed the remaining stairs
We stepped into the temple compound the sun began setting.the left side of the temple was engaged by a smaller temple and a book shop. I leaned greedily over the books scanning them ,but they were either in hindi or tourist guides.we took off our shoes here and moved towards the sanctum sanctorium . the sanctum was built over a pool of water and the sitting place stood a few feet away from it surrounded by a iron grill. On the right of the platform there was a tree with sacred threads around it. Te tree shade idols of Ganesha etc.
I read the aarti pasted on a sheet of paper on one of the pillars. It was in pure and pristine kashmiri. A dialect of the sort not used today.
We came out and sat cross legged on the stair case.
Uncleji came out from his house andjoined us. As if to compensate for our not coming in.
“ tueh wentaw me yeth mandiras kya history” said i
“ manthan chewa tohi pai “
“ yes , it is the legend of the tug of war between devtas and asurs in churning the sea. Didn’t the amrit kalash originate from there?”
“ aa bilkul”
The legend of zeteshta devi is said to be as old as the manthan”
It is said that the devi was held captive from the time of manthan by an asur in a cave. The cave was called gufa-dari. It existed near the foothills of shankracharaya. Now the name has been disfigured to gupkar.
“ shiv Shankar in his was urged to free the deve , and it is said that he freed her from the clutch of the asur”
“ tami pati ker shiv shankaran ye devi parwati roopas manz graham , ti Karin yeth baalas peth wirajman”
“ shiv ti shakti kati gaczan juda” I spoke
Bilkul said uncle with an appreciative glance.
Since it was the zeth and panchum , as per the calendar.
The devi came to be known as zetestha
Zeth also means elder.after this . she remained unknown for a long time. Until she appeared in someones dream and said ,
“I am zeteshta . seven thursdays and an offering of chopped liver is what pleases me”
And thus the temple came to be known by people. So hari singh removed all inhabitation from here( I was surprised to hear there ever was any inhabitation here). He kept just our household as care takers.
I was surprised at their dedication. That they have looked after this temple amid the worst political situation and never even changed their residence . even if that meant living on top of a hill kilometers away from any inhabitation.
We still need to get this on our tourist map tough.’
It was late evening or early night when we began descending the steps.
Faheem : mazai awa?
Me: I learnt a lot about our culture.
He : like ?
Me: like. Why do you think kashmiri people visit sufi shrines of five or seven Thursdays and why do you think aes che kali-maz ti krehan-maz tehar karan?
He: why?
Me: “I am zeteshta . seven thursdays and an offering of chopped liver is what pleases me”
“Helloo’
‘Wani get ready you are coming with me to zeeth yaar’
“Zeeth yaar , where the hell is that? . cze ma karnawakh me encounter”
“Cze @@#$$%^&*(**&^^ .lagu palaw jaldi . its in the lap of zabarwan hills , grand palace se thoda aage. you will enjoy it”
“Ok. Report here in half an hour.’
So half an hour later I found myself with Faheem driving through our busy but slow city. Secretariat , fly over , lal chowk , ma road , trc ,gupkar , grand palace. Every bodys mind is programmed to tunr left near grand palace towards boulevard.I askd, cze kot pakan seudi ?
That’s where we have to go . climb that hill.
For the first time in my life I didn’t turn left near grand palace but continued straight on. We zoomed past the hotel gate. Just a few hundered yards down the hotel mgate we were stopped at a check point.
“Where to ?”
“Mandir”
“Mandir?? Enquired the police guy looking at my beard.”
“Not actually mandir , we have to meet Bansi lal”
“Ah , you can go.”
“Ye bansi saeb kusu, Faheema?”
“The care taker of the mandir and our customer”
A ten minutes drive up the serpentine road brought us to a large iron gate.my friend stopped the car , pushed up the hand brake as if to strangulate the tyres. And we got down.the iron gate was loked like an elaborate hood wink . it was locked and insurmountable. But my driend took me to one side and opened a small wicket gate and we stepped in.
My eyes began surveying the scenery around.in front of me stood an immense expanse of one part of the hill. This part was stabilized by a retaining wall. The only structures visible were a small house and a stair case.
We began climbing the stairs . stairway to heaven I remarked.
All this was giving me a strong sense of déjà-vu. Faheema yi ha Makhdoom Saebun hui.
Ahnu barabar.
I hope there are not as many stairs , said i
The gain in altitude with every step gave a clearer view. Solitude reigned all around . I turned around led ny some deep instinct and saw the dal lake far far away small and motion less as if stuck to the ground paralysed.
Near the top end of the stair my friend stopped and turned left to enter the house.
Adab arz
Adab
Walsa beta
After a small business talk. I heard the man coming towards me. Beta ji waliw andar kun.
He was wearing a pheran ( quite unusual for September)
“no uncleji its too good here . we will sit here”
wala darshan karith ha yemo ,said i
and we climbed the remaining stairs
We stepped into the temple compound the sun began setting.the left side of the temple was engaged by a smaller temple and a book shop. I leaned greedily over the books scanning them ,but they were either in hindi or tourist guides.we took off our shoes here and moved towards the sanctum sanctorium . the sanctum was built over a pool of water and the sitting place stood a few feet away from it surrounded by a iron grill. On the right of the platform there was a tree with sacred threads around it. Te tree shade idols of Ganesha etc.
I read the aarti pasted on a sheet of paper on one of the pillars. It was in pure and pristine kashmiri. A dialect of the sort not used today.
We came out and sat cross legged on the stair case.
Uncleji came out from his house andjoined us. As if to compensate for our not coming in.
“ tueh wentaw me yeth mandiras kya history” said i
“ manthan chewa tohi pai “
“ yes , it is the legend of the tug of war between devtas and asurs in churning the sea. Didn’t the amrit kalash originate from there?”
“ aa bilkul”
The legend of zeteshta devi is said to be as old as the manthan”
It is said that the devi was held captive from the time of manthan by an asur in a cave. The cave was called gufa-dari. It existed near the foothills of shankracharaya. Now the name has been disfigured to gupkar.
“ shiv Shankar in his was urged to free the deve , and it is said that he freed her from the clutch of the asur”
“ tami pati ker shiv shankaran ye devi parwati roopas manz graham , ti Karin yeth baalas peth wirajman”
“ shiv ti shakti kati gaczan juda” I spoke
Bilkul said uncle with an appreciative glance.
Since it was the zeth and panchum , as per the calendar.
The devi came to be known as zetestha
Zeth also means elder.after this . she remained unknown for a long time. Until she appeared in someones dream and said ,
“I am zeteshta . seven thursdays and an offering of chopped liver is what pleases me”
And thus the temple came to be known by people. So hari singh removed all inhabitation from here( I was surprised to hear there ever was any inhabitation here). He kept just our household as care takers.
I was surprised at their dedication. That they have looked after this temple amid the worst political situation and never even changed their residence . even if that meant living on top of a hill kilometers away from any inhabitation.
We still need to get this on our tourist map tough.’
It was late evening or early night when we began descending the steps.
Faheem : mazai awa?
Me: I learnt a lot about our culture.
He : like ?
Me: like. Why do you think kashmiri people visit sufi shrines of five or seven Thursdays and why do you think aes che kali-maz ti krehan-maz tehar karan?
He: why?
Me: “I am zeteshta . seven thursdays and an offering of chopped liver is what pleases me”
some of my friend pointed out that the name is zeshtha not zeteshta, error regetted _ owais
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