Anonymous Contributor

My paternal family left Kashmir around 1987 for safety reasons. My maternal family left in 1991, coinciding with my maternal grandfather's job transfer. Both departures were shaped by the broader circumstances affecting Kashmiri families during that period.

Kashmiri is present in our home, though in a particular way. My parents' generation constantly use Kashmiri among themselves, but not as much when speaking to my cousins and me. We learned the language primarily by listening to their conversations rather than through direct instruction.

In terms of literature, the first things that come to mind are Rajatarangini, which chronicles the history of Kashmiri kings, and Nilamata Purana, which narrates the mythological creation of Kashmir. For poetry, Lal Ded's Vaakhs are closest to what I would consider foundational Kashmiri verse. There are many songs as well, mostly folk or spiritual bhajans, encompassing both Hindu and Islamic traditions.

One story I remember vividly is that of Mahadev Bisht, a figure similar to Robin Hood in Kashmiri folklore. Whenever he would enter houses to steal, he would make cat sounds to distract the owners. There is also a humorous tale called Jodui Waej (The Magical Ring), which has been documented and preserved.

I have also encountered important historical and literary resources: Nilamata Purana offers deep insight into Kashmir's mythological origins and cosmology; various texts document Kashmiri festivals and their significance; and compiled collections preserve folk stories that might otherwise be lost. There is also the story of Yashovati, considered the first Queen of Kashmir who reigned during the era of the Mahabharata, as mentioned in Rajatarangini—a narrative that blends historical account with folk tradition.

In terms of passing down memories, my grandparents were the primary sources for my cousins and me. For stories and language, my mother continues to be the one who shares the most, even now.

The tradition of passing down our culture has not changed dramatically within my family. I have been told that even back in Kashmir, it was typically the grandparents who took responsibility for transmitting cultural knowledge to the younger generations. This pattern has continued in the diaspora.

My relationship with Kashmir is complicated. It is home, but it is also something I have only ever seen in photographs or heard about in stories. I have never had the chance to experience the place firsthand. It is like a memory I inherited rather than lived—a connection that feels real and profound, yet exists at a distance.

The most important thing to preserve, in my view, is the traditions. Kashmiri culture, language, script, and knowledge are all tied into the traditions we practice. The Sharda script, which is the original script of the Kashmiri language, is particularly important. Unfortunately, very few people today know how to read or write in it.

I do not personally possess many material artifacts, but my parents have several items they brought from Kashmir: a kangri (a portable earthen heater), pashmina shawls, a samavar (a copper vessel traditionally used to boil water or make tea), and idols that my grandfather carried with him during the exodus when they left. There may be other objects as well that I am not aware of.