The influence—through faith, heritage, and literature—shaped a sense of identity, and purpose
My father was more than a parent—he was my first mentor and the cornerstone of my early education. He nurtured my curiosity and shaped my understanding of the world through his passions, which revolved around three core areas: religion, Kashmir, and English literature.
His first passion was religious scholarship. He was deeply drawn to the study of sacred texts, particularly the Quran, and spent countless hours reading, translating, and interpreting its verses. For him, this was not just a spiritual exercise but a means to understand the deeper principles of life and morality.
His second fascination was with the geography and heritage of Kashmir. He would immerse himself in books authored by foreign travellers who had explored the valley—texts that captured the breathtaking beauty, complex history, and layered identity of the region. Among his favourites were Where Three Empires Meet, Cashmire en Famille, and Travels in the Mughal Empire. He would often speak of the works of Frederick Drew and Tyndale Biscoe, especially The Jummoo and Kashmir Territories: A Geographical Account. These authors, he said, had rightly observed that Kashmiris were peace-loving people, dwelling in a land of great fertility and beauty—yet they had suffered historically due to weak leadership and covetous neighbours.
The third passion of my father was his love for the English language and its literature. He appreciated the clarity, structure, and rhythm of English prose and poetry, and he instilled in me a similar admiration.
Whenever he had to travel officially to the outskirts of the city, he would insist on taking me along. These journeys were not just trips—they were moving classrooms. As we passed towns and landmarks, he would explain their historical, cultural, and geographical significance. He would speak of Kashmir’s once-thriving economy and its self-sufficiency before political tides altered its course. Through his words, the land transformed from a silent landscape into a living, breathing heritage.
During these travels, he would also introduce me to his colleagues and subordinates—each with their own story, strengths, and sense of duty. One figure that left an indelible impression on me and my cousin Burhan was a man named Ram Singh. Loyal to the core and unwavering in his duties, Ram Singh’s courtesy and strength made him a folk hero in our eyes. My cousin, who once aspired to be a top police officer, began saying, “When I grow up, I want to become Ram Singh.” He reminded us of Shera, Salman Khan’s famous bodyguard, exuding the same aura of silent strength and unshakeable loyalty.
Ram Singh once asked me a question I can still hear today: “Why do you bunk school and return at 2:30 p.m. when all other schools finish at 4?” It was a question that stung with truth and concern—hallmarks of his integrity.
One journey I particularly remember was to Anantnag in a white Ambassador car. Along the way, my father spoke in detail about the historical encounters and foreign perspectives on Kashmir. He quoted from the same books with reverence and insight, painting a picture of Kashmir’s golden past and its gradual decline.
He would say, “These foreigners saw us for who we are—not aggressive by nature, not expansionist by design, but a people who thrived in a land blessed with abundance. And yet, we were undone by our own rulers and the jealousy of those around us.”
That observation, I believe, still resonates today. Kashmiris are building luxury homes and spending extravagantly on weddings, yet the economy is faltering. Businesses are struggling, and traditional trades are diminishing. And yet, the intelligence of the Kashmiri people is undeniable—many are now finding opportunities and building careers across the world.
My father’s lessons were not confined to books or sermons. They were lived, observed, and passed down during long drives, shared silences, and thoughtful conversations. Today, as I reflect on those moments, I realise he gave me something far more valuable than formal education—he gave me a sense of place, identity, and purpose.
Dr Sajad Hussain Deen
Sa***********@*******ac.in