A Collection of Essays on Ladakh written “with feeling”

We live in times in which we are overwhelmed by ideas or,perhaps more accurately, by notions. Those of identity in our politics andspecialization in our knowledge. We could even say “overtaken” is deliberate,for it has the sense of being overcome or swept away, to have lost control. Theroot cause of how we came to this pass is a long and complex history; itsconsequences easier to describe.

One result of it has been a divided mentality; a minddisabled of inclusivity, of convergence and of the ability to live in themoment. Ours are brains suffused by ideas of purism in race, religion,ethnicity, language or politics to which we hanker for legitimacy. Similarly, acorollary of expert information has been yielding knowledge to the tyranny ofthe specialist. We are in awe of technical know-how, dependent on the “expert”to tell us how to think, unable to synthesize experience for ourselves. Somesymptoms of this are of how we are rapt by a bookish fixation with references;a theological obsession with monopolizing truth; a writer’s neurosis withoriginality; and a political mania for personal and group “security” thatisolates individuals and collectives.

   

In such a mental climate, it is difficult to come acrossnarratives that speak of the beautiful complexity of our world with simplicity,accuracy, candor and genuine elation. The late Eliezer Joldan’s book, firstpublished in 1985 (Reprint, Central Asian Trade and Other Essays”, GulshanBooks, 2018) is one such narrative on Ladakh, a land that has been muchphotographed, researched and interpreted in the last half century.

“Aba Eli-ley”, as he was affectionately referred to in ourfamily, was highly regarded by everyone who knew him. I remember him fromvisits to his Kashmir home for Christmas greetings or, in later years, seeinghim strolling on the main street in Leh, eyes twinkling, searching formemories. My own curiosity about the anthropology and history of Ladakhsurfaced only just before his demise in 2001, which tragically deprived me ofconversations with him that would have opened many a window of knowledge abouthome and life.

Typical of his generation, the reprint of six delightfulessays opens with two disclaimers by the author. One about himself – “I am notknowledgeable…” – and the other about the past – “I would not call them thegood old days because conditions are vastly better now”. No pretensions ortrite nostalgia. Yet the book, he tells us, is about “some memories I stillcherish”. But this collection of notable essays is important for two reasonsnot cited by the author.

It is important, firstly, as the observations of one fromLadakh’s often neglected Christian community, many members of which havecontributed much to the life of Ladakh in scholarship (they are pioneertranslators, writers and educators), in society and social science (asadministrators and professionals) and in the humanities (several members of theyounger generation are carving a place for themselves in art, architecture andother fields of study). Secondly, and perhaps more importantly, it is abetween-the-lines message of seasoned interaction with the west – thusmodernity – because Ladakhi Christians were among the first in their society tohave engaged with the “west”. This was with the arrival of the Christian missionariesin Ladakh in the second half of the nineteenth century. It has given them aunique familiarity with modernity from which any society in transition standsto gain much.

But throughout the book, the author never mentions that heis a Christian by faith, even as his narrative describes encounters,transactions and relationships with Turkic-speaking, Hindi-speaking,Kashmiri-speaking and European languages speaking peoples with a spontaneitythat is as unique as it is natural. Clearly, he was cosmopolitan citizen who isdisarmingly un-self-consciousness about mere identity. The book’s narrative isa fluent flow of a person who materially and mentally integrated – today a rarephenomenon.

A few examples of this are his stories about how, after manyyears, he met a former student called “Miskeen Tsering”, a name of Urdu andTibetan mix; of how “chang”, the Tibeto-Himalayan barley beer, was being pouredby a Ladakhi pastural nomad from a Kashmiri brass vessel; of how the authordanced clockwise in the “Ladakhi way”, while his Dardic hosts dance”anti-clockwise” and many more such anecdotes. In yet another passage, hewrites of Safa Kadal in Srinagar as if it were a suburb of Leh! The reader istreated to the lived experience of life assimilated and integrated in asynthesis both collective and individual. For some today may be aninfuriatingly tolerant, inclusive and integrated ecosphere in a world ofincreasingly zealous chauvinism, exclusivism and xenophobia.

There are also some innocently political statements withoutforced “political correctness”. For example, he refers to the boundary thatseparates the Da-Hanu region of Ladakh from its cultural continuum in Baltistanas the “Ceasefire Line”, to reflect the true state of affairs between South Asia’stwo large neighboring states, without intending to be critical about theeuphemism of “Line of Control”. He speaks as a witness to colonial visitors whowere “severe”, yet worthy of “respect”. Similarly, while Mr. Joldan’s aptitudefor critical thought allows him to acknowledge both “good and bad developments”in present-day tourist-inundated Ladakh, he is humble enough to acknowledgelearning from the visitors and pointing out that “it is better to stress thegood things” while, in what is a near-Taoist observation, acknowledging that”Good and bad must coexist.”

There are many more stories and anecdotes in the “… OtherEssays on Ladakh” that divulge a mind that is qualitatively different from mosttoday. One that could be called an “unpartitioned intellect”, to use the IrishAmerican poet John Montague’s phrase. A mind that effortlessly integrates mythand logic, distinguishes between paradox and contradiction and differentiatesbetween nostalgic romanticism and empathetic insightfulness.

This last binary elicits an event that is not recounted inthe book but serves to illuminate the author’s personality. First let mebriefly talk about the difference in the meanings of the binary. “Nostalgicromanticism” may be defined as ineffectual sentimentality that contributesneither to the solution of a problem nor an understanding of it. “Empatheticinsightfulness” is understanding the context of an event and the reconcilinglimitations of that experience.

Now the event. Aba Eli-ley’s family was among the firstconverts to Christianity. The intrepid Isabella Bird Bishop’s 1894 traveloguerecounts how this was opposed by his erstwhile Buddhist compatriots and,perhaps, the Dogra regime. It was probably during the time of the author’sgrandfather. Bishop goes on to tell us about how the Joldan ancestral home andother properties in the village of Stok was confiscated by the Dogra wazir andthe new house in Leh “burned to the ground more than once by incendiaries”;events that probably resulted in the patriarch’s self-exile to the Kulu,Manali. The very next generation of the family returned to Ladakh, the author’sfather, Jonathan, serving in the British Postal Services. The memory of thetragic events would not have faded yet but there is nary a mention of it in Mr.Joldan’s memoirs. Nostalgic romanticism would tend to recall those events withsadness if not bitterness. The author’s silence over them as they continue tomake Ladakh their home, divulges empathetic insightfulness, absent of anybitterness.

This is the legacy that Eliezer Joldan’s book, which hemodestly describes as “only a collection of essays” but is written with what hedescribes as “feeling”, leaves for his family, Ladakh and the State of J&K.We are the richer for it.

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