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Rumours of Spring: A Girlhood in Kashmir
Rumours of Spring is the unforgettable account of Farah Bashir's adolescence spent in Srinagar in the 1990s. As Indian troops and militants battle across the cityscape and violence becomes the new normal, a young schoolgirl finds that ordinary tasks - studying for exams, walking to the bus stop, combing her hair, falling asleep - are riddled with anxiety and fear.
With haunting simplicity, Farah Bashir captures moments of vitality and resilience from her girlhood amidst the increasing trauma and turmoil of passing years - secretly dancing to pop songs on banned radio stations; writing her first love letter; going to the cinema for the first time - with haunting simplicity. This deeply affecting coming-of-age memoir portrays how territorial conflict surreptitiously affects everyday lives in Kashmir.
With haunting simplicity, Farah Bashir captures moments of vitality and resilience from her girlhood amidst the increasing trauma and turmoil of passing years - secretly dancing to pop songs on banned radio stations; writing her first love letter; going to the cinema for the first time - with haunting simplicity. This deeply affecting coming-of-age memoir portrays how territorial conflict surreptitiously affects everyday lives in Kashmir.
228 pages, Hardcover
First published April 22, 2021
112 people are currently reading
2922 people want to read
About the author
Farah Bashir
3 books50 followersFarah Bashir was born and raised in Kashmir. She was a former photojournalist with Reuters, and currently works as a communications consultant.
Rumours of Spring, published by Harper Collins, is her first book.
Rumours of Spring, published by Harper Collins, is her first book.
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Displaying 1 - 29 of 190 reviews
April 5, 2022
Farah Bashir’s book “Rumours of Spring” is an extremely poignant account of life as an adolescent in Kashmir of the 1990s, the Kashmir that was full of conflict and uncertainty. Nothing has changed for Kashmiris as of today, but we shall not go there.
I was gutted. As I was reading the book and when I finished reading it as well. I am still reeling from Bashir’s experiences as young girl in the valley – what her family and friends had to go through, and the trauma that will never go away. Some wounds never heal. Maybe that’s how it is meant to be.
The book starts with the death of Farah’s grandmother, Bobeh. The chapters follow the day of her funeral, compartmentalized into Evening, Night, Early Hours, Dawn, Morning, and Afterlife. Each chapter reveals more about Farah’s life and that of her family, amidst the turmoil – life that has changed completely, leaving only memories of the days gone by.
A young girl grows up under constant curfew, sudden raids, gunfire, and talk of death all around. A young girl grows up waiting to go to school, checking when the phone works – whether the school is open, and the buses are plying – checking whether she can go to school – dependent on whether where she stays is a sensitive area or not. A young girl has to constantly hear of deaths of loved ones, of cousins, of how you have to be careful – cannot go here and must go there with someone, and then to imagine what life must be like in places that are not Kashmir.
Bashir’s writing is devoid of sentiment but full of emotional heft. It doesn’t want to make you cry, as much as it wants you as a reader to empathize and understand the way things were. At the same time, she is trying very hard not to judge – the government, the Indian army, and even the militants for that matter. She is only stating her truth – the one that she experienced, the one that her family faced, the truth where everything we take for granted is full of terror and crackdown.
Time plays such an important role throughout the book and yet not. Bobeh’s body has to be kept at home for a day, because of curfew. Time passes then – slowly for Farah and her family, as somehow relatives and friends come to console, memories rise. When you could freely listen to music, when freshly baked bread could be bought without fear, and when you could go to one room from another in your house without the fear of wood creaking, leading to the army asking questions and perhaps even shooting a stray bullet.
Farah interweaves the history of a state and a country – including its politics with her personal spaces. From her friends who are Kashmiri Pandits and have to leave without a word in 1990 to the siege of the Hazratbal shrine in 1993, when she loses all will to study and do better. Everything is acknowledged, everything is remembered with the intention of it being forgotten.
Rumours of Spring speaks of what is lost, what remains, and hopefully what will not be lost. It is a chronicle of a girlhood, but also negotiating spaces of beauty, grace, hope, and identity in the midst of chaos, terror, and death.
I was gutted. As I was reading the book and when I finished reading it as well. I am still reeling from Bashir’s experiences as young girl in the valley – what her family and friends had to go through, and the trauma that will never go away. Some wounds never heal. Maybe that’s how it is meant to be.
The book starts with the death of Farah’s grandmother, Bobeh. The chapters follow the day of her funeral, compartmentalized into Evening, Night, Early Hours, Dawn, Morning, and Afterlife. Each chapter reveals more about Farah’s life and that of her family, amidst the turmoil – life that has changed completely, leaving only memories of the days gone by.
A young girl grows up under constant curfew, sudden raids, gunfire, and talk of death all around. A young girl grows up waiting to go to school, checking when the phone works – whether the school is open, and the buses are plying – checking whether she can go to school – dependent on whether where she stays is a sensitive area or not. A young girl has to constantly hear of deaths of loved ones, of cousins, of how you have to be careful – cannot go here and must go there with someone, and then to imagine what life must be like in places that are not Kashmir.
Bashir’s writing is devoid of sentiment but full of emotional heft. It doesn’t want to make you cry, as much as it wants you as a reader to empathize and understand the way things were. At the same time, she is trying very hard not to judge – the government, the Indian army, and even the militants for that matter. She is only stating her truth – the one that she experienced, the one that her family faced, the truth where everything we take for granted is full of terror and crackdown.
Time plays such an important role throughout the book and yet not. Bobeh’s body has to be kept at home for a day, because of curfew. Time passes then – slowly for Farah and her family, as somehow relatives and friends come to console, memories rise. When you could freely listen to music, when freshly baked bread could be bought without fear, and when you could go to one room from another in your house without the fear of wood creaking, leading to the army asking questions and perhaps even shooting a stray bullet.
Farah interweaves the history of a state and a country – including its politics with her personal spaces. From her friends who are Kashmiri Pandits and have to leave without a word in 1990 to the siege of the Hazratbal shrine in 1993, when she loses all will to study and do better. Everything is acknowledged, everything is remembered with the intention of it being forgotten.
Rumours of Spring speaks of what is lost, what remains, and hopefully what will not be lost. It is a chronicle of a girlhood, but also negotiating spaces of beauty, grace, hope, and identity in the midst of chaos, terror, and death.
February 6, 2022
Review to come.
May 14, 2021
"That Eid eve, as a twelve year old girl, I decided unwittingly to never participate in festivities again. In fact, from them on, I began associating inexplicable melancholy with Eid, and the heaviness that settled on the heart that day sank deeper each year."
The central setup of the book is the natural death of Farah Bashir's paternal grandmother, the mourning and funerary rites that take place over the course of a day. Structured in parts and written as vignettes, the memoir moves back and forth quickly from the present to the past to look at set off reminisces. The timeline is Tehreek onwards to the time of death, i.e.1989 to 1994. Bashir lays out what does it mean to exist under military occupation, so forget dreaming of self-determination but even just dealing with the quotidian. How it can lead to manias, phobias, and unhealthy habits; affect mental and physical wellness, in a general decrease in the quality of life as this great terror looms over constantly, distorting the distinctions between normal and abnormal.
The writing is simple but does the job well. I was particularly happy with the considerable inclusion of Kashmiri and Urdu phraseology along with regional terms & identifiers. It was also great that a lot of times they were unexplained in-text, context & meaning given in endnotes but it was sometimes weirdly bracketed. A hard-hitting, trauma-ridden account of life in Kashmir in the end, if slightly disjointed and unfocused.
(I was sent a physical copy of the book by the publisher in exchange for an honest review.)
The central setup of the book is the natural death of Farah Bashir's paternal grandmother, the mourning and funerary rites that take place over the course of a day. Structured in parts and written as vignettes, the memoir moves back and forth quickly from the present to the past to look at set off reminisces. The timeline is Tehreek onwards to the time of death, i.e.1989 to 1994. Bashir lays out what does it mean to exist under military occupation, so forget dreaming of self-determination but even just dealing with the quotidian. How it can lead to manias, phobias, and unhealthy habits; affect mental and physical wellness, in a general decrease in the quality of life as this great terror looms over constantly, distorting the distinctions between normal and abnormal.
The writing is simple but does the job well. I was particularly happy with the considerable inclusion of Kashmiri and Urdu phraseology along with regional terms & identifiers. It was also great that a lot of times they were unexplained in-text, context & meaning given in endnotes but it was sometimes weirdly bracketed. A hard-hitting, trauma-ridden account of life in Kashmir in the end, if slightly disjointed and unfocused.
(I was sent a physical copy of the book by the publisher in exchange for an honest review.)
December 8, 2021
“Our lives were controlled from elsewhere and the dreams that we dreamt were always at the mercy of someone else, someone occupying us, ruling us.” 🍁
The most militarised zone in the world, Kashmir has been under a violent, bloody dispute of “ownership” since the partition of Pakistan and India in 1947. As a young girl growing up in Srinagar in the 90s, Farah Bashir recounts in this heartbreaking memoir firsthand observations of the violence, oppression and colonial subjugation of the Kashmiri population by the Indian colonial authorities.
As with any account of an occupied or colonised people, loss is the recurring theme. From the tangible (land, lives, houses) to the intangible (respect, innocence, culture), Bashir bravely and unapologetically describes the impact of the loss of a homeland on the mind and soul.
Having recently read books on the French occupation of Algeria, there are many parallels that can be drawn between Algeria and Kashmir, most pertinently the erasure of indigenous culture (e.g. a transposition of the colonisers ‘superior’ culture and customs, displacing native language with that of the colonisers—French/Hindi vs. Darija/Koshur respectively). Colonialism is colonialism at the end of the day and it’s patterns of dominion are always the same.
The memoir is broadly split in two—the overarching narrative relays the death and subsequent funeral arrangements of Bashir’s Bobeh (grandmother), and the chapters in between relive Bashir’s childhood as a schoolgirl whose education and development were hindered by the trauma and anxiety of constant military brutality.
Kashmir’s long-standing, celebrated status as “paradise on earth” rapidly—and ironically—deteriorated into an living hell as troops upon troops invaded the area, bringing along with them India’s finest: bloodshed and barbarity.
“The round-the-clock curfew, the killings, the protests, the futile dialogues, the labelling of men sometimes as militants, sometimes as mercenaries … the constant shifting of power had done its damage.”
What I found particularly harrowing in this memoir was just how debilitating and paralysing life under curfew can be. The inability to spend time with one’s family, talk too loudly, cook, go to school, get groceries, take a walk—every small, simple action is painstakingly scrutinised. Best case scenario you’re beaten within an inch of your life. Worst case scenario, that inch is not spared and your untimely martyrdom is mourned by your family for the rest of their days.
The psychological effects of colonisation on the youth are often too much for a person to dwell on for extended periods of time. Bashir’s deeply personal and private childhood tale showcases the severity of mental trauma that is inflicted upon an indigenous people. It is unfathomable to the western mind. Feelings and beliefs that would undoubtedly be classified by psychiatrists as textbook trauma are left untreated due to the lack of access to, and distrust of, medical professionals.
To summarise, this memoir is incredibly enlightening and eye opening, particularly to those who may have little knowledge on the situation in Kashmir. If you’re not a big non-fiction reader, I’d recommend giving this a go. It’s short and beautifully written.
May Allah grant Kashmir the azadi it deserves.
The most militarised zone in the world, Kashmir has been under a violent, bloody dispute of “ownership” since the partition of Pakistan and India in 1947. As a young girl growing up in Srinagar in the 90s, Farah Bashir recounts in this heartbreaking memoir firsthand observations of the violence, oppression and colonial subjugation of the Kashmiri population by the Indian colonial authorities.
As with any account of an occupied or colonised people, loss is the recurring theme. From the tangible (land, lives, houses) to the intangible (respect, innocence, culture), Bashir bravely and unapologetically describes the impact of the loss of a homeland on the mind and soul.
Having recently read books on the French occupation of Algeria, there are many parallels that can be drawn between Algeria and Kashmir, most pertinently the erasure of indigenous culture (e.g. a transposition of the colonisers ‘superior’ culture and customs, displacing native language with that of the colonisers—French/Hindi vs. Darija/Koshur respectively). Colonialism is colonialism at the end of the day and it’s patterns of dominion are always the same.
The memoir is broadly split in two—the overarching narrative relays the death and subsequent funeral arrangements of Bashir’s Bobeh (grandmother), and the chapters in between relive Bashir’s childhood as a schoolgirl whose education and development were hindered by the trauma and anxiety of constant military brutality.
Kashmir’s long-standing, celebrated status as “paradise on earth” rapidly—and ironically—deteriorated into an living hell as troops upon troops invaded the area, bringing along with them India’s finest: bloodshed and barbarity.
“The round-the-clock curfew, the killings, the protests, the futile dialogues, the labelling of men sometimes as militants, sometimes as mercenaries … the constant shifting of power had done its damage.”
What I found particularly harrowing in this memoir was just how debilitating and paralysing life under curfew can be. The inability to spend time with one’s family, talk too loudly, cook, go to school, get groceries, take a walk—every small, simple action is painstakingly scrutinised. Best case scenario you’re beaten within an inch of your life. Worst case scenario, that inch is not spared and your untimely martyrdom is mourned by your family for the rest of their days.
The psychological effects of colonisation on the youth are often too much for a person to dwell on for extended periods of time. Bashir’s deeply personal and private childhood tale showcases the severity of mental trauma that is inflicted upon an indigenous people. It is unfathomable to the western mind. Feelings and beliefs that would undoubtedly be classified by psychiatrists as textbook trauma are left untreated due to the lack of access to, and distrust of, medical professionals.
To summarise, this memoir is incredibly enlightening and eye opening, particularly to those who may have little knowledge on the situation in Kashmir. If you’re not a big non-fiction reader, I’d recommend giving this a go. It’s short and beautifully written.
May Allah grant Kashmir the azadi it deserves.
November 30, 2022
A fraught girlhood marks this brilliant memoir from a Kashmiri writer. The narrative is set around the funeral of her beloved grandmother, and each chapter follows from a person, an incident, or a memory that the funeral evokes. I wish more people would read this to understand how occupation works, how it infiltrates our most intimate spaces, and how home itself fundamentally transforms under its control. If you've ever wondered: what is it like to grow up under occupation--here is a memoir that can give you a glimpse.
And yet, Farah's memoir also shows us how people living under such brutal conditions relate to each other and themselves, attempting to put together a semblance of a 'normal life.' It is a testament to the beauty and resilience and traditions and faith of Kashmiris.
And yet, Farah's memoir also shows us how people living under such brutal conditions relate to each other and themselves, attempting to put together a semblance of a 'normal life.' It is a testament to the beauty and resilience and traditions and faith of Kashmiris.
September 8, 2021
Why didn’t I arrange for a gun, Baayo?
Why didn’t I listen to you, Baayo?
I thought we’d get you out of there soon, Baayo!
What harm had you done to the mukhbir, Baayo?
I should have arranged for a gun for you, Baayo!
I am responsible for your death, Baayo!
I should have arranged for a gun, Baayo!
Shall I put henna on you, Potro?
Are you thirsty, Potro?
Myani potro, myani potro.
I was worried when I started to write a review for this book as I feared that my review may not justify it but here, I go.
Rumours of Spring, I had my expectations when I started reading this but it went beyond all of that. I have read the kite runner; I am Malala and the carpet weaver and I thought I was ready to read this book as I was familiar with what the people were going through but were I wrong? Totally. As someone from Tamilnadu, my knowledge of anything about Kashmir came from old-school textbooks and news channels. I really never knew the extent of grief and trauma the people in Kashmir were going through until I read Rumours of Spring.
I was amazed by the way in which the author, Farah Bashir, narrated the heavy set of events while blending and connecting it with her peaceful childhood.
The whole book revolves around Bobeh (grandmother), her death, during her funeral, and the time between the death and funeral. Each and every object in the house reminds the author of her grandmother and certain events of life attached to it.
Farah has done a splendid job in narrating her childhood memories. Each of us has our own precious memory, let it be a friend, a favorite candy or in my case a favorite book. So much nostalgia. The author relives her childhood through these pages.
Now, this book made me realize how ignorant I was with the affairs in Kashmir and I’ll be forever grateful to this book. This is the power of books, to make the unknown known and expose the invisible. Farah Bashir made great use of this and this book is a beacon for many.
Each chapter was gripping and heart-wrecking. Not a single chapter left me with a gasp or a teardrop but the ones that stood out the most were
Period pangs and a stray bullet.
I would grow up to be Collateral damage.
A wedding, a funeral.
Of men, mice, and violence.
Games our children play.
Attested dead.
I can assure you that each and every chapter will leave a deep impact in you, you will experience a tsunami of emotions.
This book reminded me so much of I am Malala, the kite runner and the carpet weaver. One may ask “why?”. Well, the place that was described in these books used to be paradise on earth. They were rich, beautiful, peaceful, and festive but human hunger for power and violence have turned them into barren, futile lands of terror and sorrow. The very streets that used to be filled with the laughter of children are filled with their wails over the bodies of their loved ones.
Thank you, Farah Bashir, for writing this book. I’m sure, the upcoming generation of Kashmir and other parts of the world will be grateful to this tale.
Why didn’t I listen to you, Baayo?
I thought we’d get you out of there soon, Baayo!
What harm had you done to the mukhbir, Baayo?
I should have arranged for a gun for you, Baayo!
I am responsible for your death, Baayo!
I should have arranged for a gun, Baayo!
Shall I put henna on you, Potro?
Are you thirsty, Potro?
Myani potro, myani potro.
I was worried when I started to write a review for this book as I feared that my review may not justify it but here, I go.
Rumours of Spring, I had my expectations when I started reading this but it went beyond all of that. I have read the kite runner; I am Malala and the carpet weaver and I thought I was ready to read this book as I was familiar with what the people were going through but were I wrong? Totally. As someone from Tamilnadu, my knowledge of anything about Kashmir came from old-school textbooks and news channels. I really never knew the extent of grief and trauma the people in Kashmir were going through until I read Rumours of Spring.
I was amazed by the way in which the author, Farah Bashir, narrated the heavy set of events while blending and connecting it with her peaceful childhood.
The whole book revolves around Bobeh (grandmother), her death, during her funeral, and the time between the death and funeral. Each and every object in the house reminds the author of her grandmother and certain events of life attached to it.
Farah has done a splendid job in narrating her childhood memories. Each of us has our own precious memory, let it be a friend, a favorite candy or in my case a favorite book. So much nostalgia. The author relives her childhood through these pages.
Now, this book made me realize how ignorant I was with the affairs in Kashmir and I’ll be forever grateful to this book. This is the power of books, to make the unknown known and expose the invisible. Farah Bashir made great use of this and this book is a beacon for many.
Each chapter was gripping and heart-wrecking. Not a single chapter left me with a gasp or a teardrop but the ones that stood out the most were
Period pangs and a stray bullet.
I would grow up to be Collateral damage.
A wedding, a funeral.
Of men, mice, and violence.
Games our children play.
Attested dead.
I can assure you that each and every chapter will leave a deep impact in you, you will experience a tsunami of emotions.
This book reminded me so much of I am Malala, the kite runner and the carpet weaver. One may ask “why?”. Well, the place that was described in these books used to be paradise on earth. They were rich, beautiful, peaceful, and festive but human hunger for power and violence have turned them into barren, futile lands of terror and sorrow. The very streets that used to be filled with the laughter of children are filled with their wails over the bodies of their loved ones.
Thank you, Farah Bashir, for writing this book. I’m sure, the upcoming generation of Kashmir and other parts of the world will be grateful to this tale.
August 26, 2022
I remember the early days of Covid and the curfew, when we ran to shops to stock up on food and essentials. I also remember the fear and the uncertainty that came from having no idea when it would end. This was a foe we didn't understand, which didn't even have an intent. Now imagine doing this intentionally to an entire population. That's the 90s Kashmir Farah Bashir writes about through the lens of her teen self. A war with no end.
The upheaval and transition of Kashmir runs parallel to the changes in Farah's own life. The chapter names too are sometimes revealing - "I would grow up to be collateral damage", "Curfew as poison". Practically every incident is heartbreaking in its own way. Even joyous occasions clouded by a looming disaster. I'll probably take longer to even process this fully.
Old people and babies unable to breathe because of the tear gas, migraines and stress being a part of daily life, newspapers becoming 'mortuaries laid out in broadsheets', moving about one's own home in fear, houses getting ransacked by the army, people disappearing and then appearing as dead bodies laid out on the streets, normally calm women panicking when men didn't return home on time because kidnappings were common, a young man covering walls with the letters QK (read to find out what it stands for), children enacting encounters between troops and militants, and all of this getting normalised in time. The one that affected me most were the lives of Naseer and Nasreen. The troops and politicians remind me of Clay Shirky's line - “Institutions will try to preserve the problem to which they are the solution.”
There are many reasons why I liked this book beyond the obvious one that it is an important perspective, and a voice that needs to be heard. Farah's relationship with her grandmother is something I could very easily relate to. The poignancy even in routine events and experiences is palpable.
This excerpt says it all - "The newsprint smiles on the faces of the models in the advertisements made me wonder if I would be a different person altogether had I grown up away from a conflict zone, outside of a disputed territory. To wake up to the rays of the sun without having the previous night's sleep interrupted by screams of the neighbourhood women who'd run after the armed personnel in convoys that took away their husbands and teenage sons in nocturnal raids. To only care about using the right colognes and worry about the right detergent, to not to have to constantly think about the availability of vegetables, milk and medicine during erratic but long periods of curfew ...I wondered what life would be like if there was some certainty in our day-to-day affairs. Wouldn't that be wonderful? Felt more like a dream..."
It reminded me of the several things we take for granted, and it is impossible not to feel for those whose entire lives have been disrupted in the name of a notional line. Says a lot about humanity, and our lack of it.
The upheaval and transition of Kashmir runs parallel to the changes in Farah's own life. The chapter names too are sometimes revealing - "I would grow up to be collateral damage", "Curfew as poison". Practically every incident is heartbreaking in its own way. Even joyous occasions clouded by a looming disaster. I'll probably take longer to even process this fully.
Old people and babies unable to breathe because of the tear gas, migraines and stress being a part of daily life, newspapers becoming 'mortuaries laid out in broadsheets', moving about one's own home in fear, houses getting ransacked by the army, people disappearing and then appearing as dead bodies laid out on the streets, normally calm women panicking when men didn't return home on time because kidnappings were common, a young man covering walls with the letters QK (read to find out what it stands for), children enacting encounters between troops and militants, and all of this getting normalised in time. The one that affected me most were the lives of Naseer and Nasreen. The troops and politicians remind me of Clay Shirky's line - “Institutions will try to preserve the problem to which they are the solution.”
There are many reasons why I liked this book beyond the obvious one that it is an important perspective, and a voice that needs to be heard. Farah's relationship with her grandmother is something I could very easily relate to. The poignancy even in routine events and experiences is palpable.
This excerpt says it all - "The newsprint smiles on the faces of the models in the advertisements made me wonder if I would be a different person altogether had I grown up away from a conflict zone, outside of a disputed territory. To wake up to the rays of the sun without having the previous night's sleep interrupted by screams of the neighbourhood women who'd run after the armed personnel in convoys that took away their husbands and teenage sons in nocturnal raids. To only care about using the right colognes and worry about the right detergent, to not to have to constantly think about the availability of vegetables, milk and medicine during erratic but long periods of curfew ...I wondered what life would be like if there was some certainty in our day-to-day affairs. Wouldn't that be wonderful? Felt more like a dream..."
It reminded me of the several things we take for granted, and it is impossible not to feel for those whose entire lives have been disrupted in the name of a notional line. Says a lot about humanity, and our lack of it.
May 10, 2021
It is hard to judge a memoir . When I try to write a review a part of become worried.
Now, this is not the first nonfiction I read about Kashmir. But I read "Rumours of spring " at a phrase of my life where myself was witnessing violence . I know it is meaningless to compare my situation with her but trust me , until or unless you have gone through a dark phrase you can not understand the intensity of it . The fear, anxiety , sleepless night and it goes on.
"Rumours of spring" is an account of Farah Bashir's girlhood in Kashmir. From the very first page, author took me to the land - the heaven on earth but in a house where circumstances are complete different .
I could not read it in one sitting. Because what the narrator faced and difference between her "normal life " and mine kept on pinning me.
And I definitely want to admire author's narrating style. Her fear , her feeling of loss and memories with her grandmother keep on coming and they take readers away with them .
This book is for everyone looking for a nonfiction to read about Kashmir !
Now, this is not the first nonfiction I read about Kashmir. But I read "Rumours of spring " at a phrase of my life where myself was witnessing violence . I know it is meaningless to compare my situation with her but trust me , until or unless you have gone through a dark phrase you can not understand the intensity of it . The fear, anxiety , sleepless night and it goes on.
"Rumours of spring" is an account of Farah Bashir's girlhood in Kashmir. From the very first page, author took me to the land - the heaven on earth but in a house where circumstances are complete different .
I could not read it in one sitting. Because what the narrator faced and difference between her "normal life " and mine kept on pinning me.
And I definitely want to admire author's narrating style. Her fear , her feeling of loss and memories with her grandmother keep on coming and they take readers away with them .
This book is for everyone looking for a nonfiction to read about Kashmir !
April 27, 2021
I am very particular when I pick up a memoir. Usually, I stick to fiction and avoid non-fiction as much as I can unless it’s an academic text. However, when I saw this book in my mail, I knew this would be something that I would love. And I did. The violence that I have seen and read in news headlines always made me curious about life in such a politically unsettled territory. The news never gave authentic, stateless perspective on what it was to live with the everyday violence. Bashir, in a very journalistic mode of writing, has written down her experience of growing up as a young girl in Kashmir in the 1980s-90s. The author drew me into the grieving and depressed mood of her house from the very first page. She took me down a memory lane suffused with death, trauma and pain. There were times I wanted to stop reading and simply shut my eyes and tear away all the incidents floating past me in the form of her words. There was a point in the book where the author mentioned how the narrator and her elder sister had to stifle their laughter to avoid troops inside their house. I lost every sense of normalcy at that point and put the book away for a second or two. It is small things like these that just ripped me apart and broke me. It was a violent and heartbreaking exploration of childhood and girlhood in Kashmir. I saw my childhood, those of my peers and siblings like mere dreams in the lives of these Kashmiri children. Perhaps, they will never know what it means to laugh their heart out. I wanted to reach out to the two girls, envelope them into a hug and tell them that they could laugh, as loudly as they wanted, as hysterically they wanted. I wanted to tell them that all I wanted in that moment was to drown in the echoes of their laughter.
Thank you Harper Collins India for sending this copy for review!
Thank you Harper Collins India for sending this copy for review!
May 16, 2021
I picked this book because of its title and its beautiful cover design. But I soon realized that this book is going to stay with me for more than these reasons. A haunting, memorable book. I flinched, gasped for air and nodded my head in disbelief while reading the stories of people of Kashmir. To anyone who feels like Kashmir is Jannat for people residing there, pick this book and shake hands with reality. They lose something everyday. Mental peace, a loved one, basic necessities, a piece of land-- everything seems like a luxury. Thank you, Farah, for sharing your story with the world.
December 20, 2021
How do you write about a book that leaves you in shock after it slaps you with a reality too heavy to digest?
For everyone who is hesitant to read a non-fiction about war or other such serious subjects I'd recommend to pick up this book since it's written in such simplicity yet it will do the job of evoking emotions you aren't ready for.
🍂🍂🍂
In Rumours of Spring, the author, Farah Bashir have shared some instances from her adolescent life (as she grew up in Kashmir). How every little thing- the extra detours to reach schools, the sound of gunfires at night, the news of the death of your loved ones, learning to enjoy little things in state of despair -shapes someone into a completely different being. I will never be able to get over the fact that the people there are in constant state of trauma to the point PTSD can't be used to define their situation since the trauma is ONGOING, NOW,... AS. YOU. READ. THIS. SOMEONE. HAS. PROBABLY. LOST. THEIR. LOVED ONE OR IS GRIEVING OVER IT.
An informative & easy to read memoir with a hauntingly beautiful writing style, Rumours of Spring is something I will recommend 100% to every single one of you!!
For everyone who is hesitant to read a non-fiction about war or other such serious subjects I'd recommend to pick up this book since it's written in such simplicity yet it will do the job of evoking emotions you aren't ready for.
🍂🍂🍂
In Rumours of Spring, the author, Farah Bashir have shared some instances from her adolescent life (as she grew up in Kashmir). How every little thing- the extra detours to reach schools, the sound of gunfires at night, the news of the death of your loved ones, learning to enjoy little things in state of despair -shapes someone into a completely different being. I will never be able to get over the fact that the people there are in constant state of trauma to the point PTSD can't be used to define their situation since the trauma is ONGOING, NOW,... AS. YOU. READ. THIS. SOMEONE. HAS. PROBABLY. LOST. THEIR. LOVED ONE OR IS GRIEVING OVER IT.
An informative & easy to read memoir with a hauntingly beautiful writing style, Rumours of Spring is something I will recommend 100% to every single one of you!!
January 10, 2023
Occupation has caged us within our homes, within our skin. It is a reality all Kashmiris have witnessed but have left unmentioned. For me, this book, was like a mirror that helped me recognize the scars that I endured while growing up in Kashmir. I strongly resonated with the lack of feeling safe everywhere, including in my own home. I appreciated the stories and narrations, the descriptions of people throughout the book that felt familiar.
With openness, creative prowess and artful mastership, Farah shares stories from her own girlhood in Kashmir that resonates with all generations of Kashmiris since the ‘90s. It paints the daily struggles of living and studying in an occupation, the intense desire for some form of normalcy and the traditions of our community.
With openness, creative prowess and artful mastership, Farah shares stories from her own girlhood in Kashmir that resonates with all generations of Kashmiris since the ‘90s. It paints the daily struggles of living and studying in an occupation, the intense desire for some form of normalcy and the traditions of our community.
April 29, 2021
A must read! So far the most amazing read on Kashmir this year.
January 26, 2022
"That Eid eve, as a twelve-year old girl, I decided unwittingly to never participate in festivities again. In fact, from then on, I began associating inexplicable melancholy with Eid, and the heaviness that settled on the heart that day sank deeper each year"
The books begins with the natural death of Farah Bashir's paternal grandmother, continues into the period of mourning and ends with the funeral rites and life thereafter. It is a memoir based between 1989 and 1994 describing events in the adolescent years of Farah's life coinciding with the military insurgence in the valley. Although I have witnessed a curfew first hand while on a holiday in Srinagar, what I hadn't known was the trauma and turmoil that years of military occupation had brought to the otherwise peaceful valley. Constantly living in fear of being hit by bullets or shrapnels, the dread of yet another "crackdown" or the persistent worry of a family member not returning home have slowly creeped into everyday life bringing with them unhealthy habits and maniacal ways of dealing with it. Yet, the author's narration isn't one of contempt or disdain but that of resilience and grit.
The writing is simple yet effortlessly manages to keep you hooked. Thoughtfully divided into six parts - Evening, Night, Early Hours, Dawn, Morning and After Life, the chapters in each of these parts begin with incidents in preparation for the funeral beautifully transitioning into the author reminiscing life before or during the insurgence. The only thing that slightly put me off about the book is that the chapters are neither in chronological order nor related to one another. Nevertheless, they culminate into a book worthy of reading.
The books begins with the natural death of Farah Bashir's paternal grandmother, continues into the period of mourning and ends with the funeral rites and life thereafter. It is a memoir based between 1989 and 1994 describing events in the adolescent years of Farah's life coinciding with the military insurgence in the valley. Although I have witnessed a curfew first hand while on a holiday in Srinagar, what I hadn't known was the trauma and turmoil that years of military occupation had brought to the otherwise peaceful valley. Constantly living in fear of being hit by bullets or shrapnels, the dread of yet another "crackdown" or the persistent worry of a family member not returning home have slowly creeped into everyday life bringing with them unhealthy habits and maniacal ways of dealing with it. Yet, the author's narration isn't one of contempt or disdain but that of resilience and grit.
The writing is simple yet effortlessly manages to keep you hooked. Thoughtfully divided into six parts - Evening, Night, Early Hours, Dawn, Morning and After Life, the chapters in each of these parts begin with incidents in preparation for the funeral beautifully transitioning into the author reminiscing life before or during the insurgence. The only thing that slightly put me off about the book is that the chapters are neither in chronological order nor related to one another. Nevertheless, they culminate into a book worthy of reading.
March 11, 2024
Granted, it has only 228 pages, it still took me nearly one month to finish this heart-wrenching memoir. Starting from her grandmother's death, Farah Bashir takes us through memory lane compartmentalized through each moment of that single night when the whole family sat vigil over the departed soul. It is, by no means, a pleasant journey and that makes it all the more hard to digest.
The constant curfews, raids, the terror of reading newspapers filled with death and terror -- growing up as a girl in Kashmir is a never-ending struggle. Farah doesn't want to make headlines in the newspapers. She just wishes for a peaceful life followed by an uneventful death marked by a piece in the obituary column just like her grandmother, Bobeh. The things we take for granted find a new meaning here.
As an Indian, I have often wondered what really goes on in this much-disputed area known for both its beauty and history of conflict. We know the military's version for sure, and Farah Bahir walks on a very thin line so as not to blame the military or the militants. None of them makes their lives easy. They are under constant surveillance and the pages of her memoir are filled with the fear and uncertainty that defined her childhood in Kashmir from 1989 onwards.
This is a poignant tale of a once vibrant state and the resilience of its people in the face of daily challenges. Despite the adversities they endure, the spirit of the Kashmiri people shines through in Bashir's storytelling.
The constant curfews, raids, the terror of reading newspapers filled with death and terror -- growing up as a girl in Kashmir is a never-ending struggle. Farah doesn't want to make headlines in the newspapers. She just wishes for a peaceful life followed by an uneventful death marked by a piece in the obituary column just like her grandmother, Bobeh. The things we take for granted find a new meaning here.
As an Indian, I have often wondered what really goes on in this much-disputed area known for both its beauty and history of conflict. We know the military's version for sure, and Farah Bahir walks on a very thin line so as not to blame the military or the militants. None of them makes their lives easy. They are under constant surveillance and the pages of her memoir are filled with the fear and uncertainty that defined her childhood in Kashmir from 1989 onwards.
This is a poignant tale of a once vibrant state and the resilience of its people in the face of daily challenges. Despite the adversities they endure, the spirit of the Kashmiri people shines through in Bashir's storytelling.
June 9, 2021
To read the full review, click on the link below
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I always had an interest in reading books that revolve around Kashmir. So, when I got the opportunity to review Rumours of Spring- a book that concentrates on Kashmir, I couldn't resist myself!
‘Rumours of Spring’ by Farah Bashir is a haunting account of the author’s teenage years spent in Srinagar in the 1990s. The novel starts with the death of the author’s grandmother and moves back and forth, all the while the author narrating her past memories, about how their lives changed after Indian troops and militants took Kashmir under siege.
The memoir ‘Rumours of Spring’ by Farah Bashir follows the turbulent years of 1989-94 (also known as the Post-Tehreek Era) when an insurgency broke out in Kashmir. Throughout the memoir, the author has given several instances stating how difficult it was for them to lead a normal life owing to endless curfews and shootouts. The situation was such that it was an arduous task to just walk to the nearest bus stop, to go to school, or any other place. The people in Kashmir including the author’s fam, lived under constant anxiety and fear because any time the troops could barge into their house to conduct a search operation.
The author has written the book in a simple but brutally honest manner. I would like to thank the author for sharing her story with the readers because this is a tale that needs to be heard. Also, I and would recommend this book to anyone who likes to read memoirs or books that revolve around Kashmir.
https://lifeofabibliophileinbooks.wor...
I always had an interest in reading books that revolve around Kashmir. So, when I got the opportunity to review Rumours of Spring- a book that concentrates on Kashmir, I couldn't resist myself!
‘Rumours of Spring’ by Farah Bashir is a haunting account of the author’s teenage years spent in Srinagar in the 1990s. The novel starts with the death of the author’s grandmother and moves back and forth, all the while the author narrating her past memories, about how their lives changed after Indian troops and militants took Kashmir under siege.
The memoir ‘Rumours of Spring’ by Farah Bashir follows the turbulent years of 1989-94 (also known as the Post-Tehreek Era) when an insurgency broke out in Kashmir. Throughout the memoir, the author has given several instances stating how difficult it was for them to lead a normal life owing to endless curfews and shootouts. The situation was such that it was an arduous task to just walk to the nearest bus stop, to go to school, or any other place. The people in Kashmir including the author’s fam, lived under constant anxiety and fear because any time the troops could barge into their house to conduct a search operation.
The author has written the book in a simple but brutally honest manner. I would like to thank the author for sharing her story with the readers because this is a tale that needs to be heard. Also, I and would recommend this book to anyone who likes to read memoirs or books that revolve around Kashmir.
June 6, 2021
This is a book framed by death. It begins and ends with the narrator contemplating the death of her grandmother- since the time she comes to know of it, till she sees her obituary. The Kashmiri "girlhood" that is the subject matter emerges through the back and forth of memory that the narrative voice embarks upon amidst her loss- and much of this memory is, fittingly, about other losses. The grandmother's death is exceptional in its normalcy, in its status as a natural death. Grief permeates this book, as it shows us how it permeates life in Kashmir.
What struck me most is how the experience of occupation transforms female adolescence- how the challenges take on new dimensions (If we all know what it feels like to have sleepless nights owing to menstrual pain, the narrator here has to reckon with the possibility of being hit by a bullet if she opens the window for a breath of fresh air), and how its rare, previous joys are sullied (a youthful correspondence between lovers coming to a sudden pause with the post office being set on fire; the excitement of a first fancy haircut turning to trauma and guilt with the sudden declaration of a curfew and orders to shoot at sight). Amidst this, the book is a testimony to the triumph of life and love, even when all the aspiration that a young woman is left with for herself and her loved ones is that of an ordinary death. Colonialism, occupation, conflict-things that turn life itself into a prelude to, a preparation for death.
What struck me most is how the experience of occupation transforms female adolescence- how the challenges take on new dimensions (If we all know what it feels like to have sleepless nights owing to menstrual pain, the narrator here has to reckon with the possibility of being hit by a bullet if she opens the window for a breath of fresh air), and how its rare, previous joys are sullied (a youthful correspondence between lovers coming to a sudden pause with the post office being set on fire; the excitement of a first fancy haircut turning to trauma and guilt with the sudden declaration of a curfew and orders to shoot at sight). Amidst this, the book is a testimony to the triumph of life and love, even when all the aspiration that a young woman is left with for herself and her loved ones is that of an ordinary death. Colonialism, occupation, conflict-things that turn life itself into a prelude to, a preparation for death.
August 13, 2021
This coming-of-age memoir of a girlhood in Kashmir during the most turbulent years of the valley, is the BEST one I have got to read so far. I have always found myself fascinated with the mysterious valley of Kashmir, and it's equally disturbing history, and that has led me to read the historical, political and personal narratives; but this book justified the feelings so aptly. Narrated through the eyes of a teenage girl, in the background of the death of her grandmother, each chapter has a tale of her life. This lifestory tells exactly how was it, growing up in Kashmir, under constant crackdowns, curfews and jammed life; with the sound of guns, the sight of military convoys and soldiers everywhere, the fear of death looming. Although narrated in simple words, this memoir made me feel the most painful feels of a wasted childhood, of the feelings of nothingness, of traumas, of lost loves, and aching hearts.
August 24, 2022
Farah Bashir writes about a childhood spent under siege, where the terror of military occupation colours every part of every day. There's an extraordinary amount of trauma and pain that the people who live in Kashmir have had to normalise, and that is clearly visible in the way she writes. Each recollection of a life lived in the valley is at once both heartbreaking and distanced. Written by someone for whom these incidents although still highly impactful have become by and large routine.
This book and others like it should be essential reading for anyone who wants to understand contentious geopolitical issues from a human angle.
This book and others like it should be essential reading for anyone who wants to understand contentious geopolitical issues from a human angle.
June 17, 2021
Feeling of an ant when it is raining. No message except autobiographic rumours.
February 23, 2025
I had zero expectations before reading this and i finished this thinking, is this going to be on my favorites of the year list? i think so!!
this is a short memoir of the author's childhood experiences in kashmir amid violence and unrest while also dealing with the death of her grandmother. and with each step of preparing her grandmother for the funeral, she start recalling her life as a teen trying to make sense of the madness she's living in during the insurgency and unrest and contniued violence between kashmir and india.
I knew almost nothing about that era of unrest and i had to read about it, but not knowing about it didn't affect how immersed i was in her book, because she writes with a masterful engaging style about her personal life experiences, that i didn't mind not knowing all the background facts till later.
highly recommend!!
this is a short memoir of the author's childhood experiences in kashmir amid violence and unrest while also dealing with the death of her grandmother. and with each step of preparing her grandmother for the funeral, she start recalling her life as a teen trying to make sense of the madness she's living in during the insurgency and unrest and contniued violence between kashmir and india.
I knew almost nothing about that era of unrest and i had to read about it, but not knowing about it didn't affect how immersed i was in her book, because she writes with a masterful engaging style about her personal life experiences, that i didn't mind not knowing all the background facts till later.
highly recommend!!
April 3, 2022
It's an intense and intimate documentary of a Kashmiri girl's journey through her teenage years in the 90s with all it's jollity and grimness, that adds a different shade to the meaning of 'survival'.
June 2, 2021
Windows, wails, gunshots, tear gas, crackdown, curfew, hostages, panic, death...
Your life agonized by the petrifying noises of gunshots, the heartbreaking wails of your people. The windows of your house that had welcomed the warm sun and chilly winds once are now shut, frightened of the hail of bullets. You miss walking, you miss laughing, you don't know what's peace anymore... Everything around you whispers terror, death! Everything smells like blood, the redness creeping under your bed, the dread filling your eyes...can you imagine this? You and your loved ones in such a situation, for years?!
"To expect change in the season in a month's time felt less like a realiry but more like rumours of spring."
With a simple, distinctive and penetrating narrative, Bashir takes us back to the 1990' Kashmir, giving a honest and terrifying account of the everyday life of Kashmiris. The nostalgic memories of celebration, happiness and love of Pre-Tehreek era as well as the traumatic events of post-Tehreek era and the dreadful life under military occupation is tragic and truly heartbreaking! The intense relation between Bashir and her grandmother is warming and soul stirring and the way her family stick to their faith amidst all these adversities is incredible. They believed in each other, cared for each other, loved each other, it gave them hope. Hope is a good thing.
"Every window in our house seemed to have been assigned a specific role, each one had numerous tales to tell."
The deaf-mute who didn't had an id-card, the relative who lost his son, the friend's sister who died in an attack, the classmate whose father became a victim of the political assassinations, the burned first love, sleepless nights - all these people and their stories bring a shining light upon the unspeakable horrors of the dirty war that has been waged in Kashmir for decades. Our life now, amidst the pandemic - curfew, lockdown, deaths - it's all feels like a reminder, a reminder that there are places where people is living like this, under a lethal military occupation for decades! This stunning debut by Farah Bashir, its eye opening insights into the land's culture with rich descriptions and details and experiences of living in an occupied land, makes it a must read for everyone.
Your life agonized by the petrifying noises of gunshots, the heartbreaking wails of your people. The windows of your house that had welcomed the warm sun and chilly winds once are now shut, frightened of the hail of bullets. You miss walking, you miss laughing, you don't know what's peace anymore... Everything around you whispers terror, death! Everything smells like blood, the redness creeping under your bed, the dread filling your eyes...can you imagine this? You and your loved ones in such a situation, for years?!
"To expect change in the season in a month's time felt less like a realiry but more like rumours of spring."
With a simple, distinctive and penetrating narrative, Bashir takes us back to the 1990' Kashmir, giving a honest and terrifying account of the everyday life of Kashmiris. The nostalgic memories of celebration, happiness and love of Pre-Tehreek era as well as the traumatic events of post-Tehreek era and the dreadful life under military occupation is tragic and truly heartbreaking! The intense relation between Bashir and her grandmother is warming and soul stirring and the way her family stick to their faith amidst all these adversities is incredible. They believed in each other, cared for each other, loved each other, it gave them hope. Hope is a good thing.
"Every window in our house seemed to have been assigned a specific role, each one had numerous tales to tell."
The deaf-mute who didn't had an id-card, the relative who lost his son, the friend's sister who died in an attack, the classmate whose father became a victim of the political assassinations, the burned first love, sleepless nights - all these people and their stories bring a shining light upon the unspeakable horrors of the dirty war that has been waged in Kashmir for decades. Our life now, amidst the pandemic - curfew, lockdown, deaths - it's all feels like a reminder, a reminder that there are places where people is living like this, under a lethal military occupation for decades! This stunning debut by Farah Bashir, its eye opening insights into the land's culture with rich descriptions and details and experiences of living in an occupied land, makes it a must read for everyone.
October 10, 2025
A harrowing yet beautiful account of a life under siege, Farah Bashir's memoir moved me to tears often, feeling the heartbreak of a people crushed under the military boot, but also the beauty of their traditions and language. Kashmir is facing worse now than it did during the period chronicled in the book. Indians are being increasingly propagandised to think of Kashmir as wrongly "stolen" from India. Militancy and separatism are no longer considered different from the average Muslim, who's blamed for terrorist acts in the valley and treated like a criminal by the occupying Indian armed forces. To Kashmiris, India is the aggressor, and we've done nothing to soften their hearts towards us. This book describes one such average Muslim Kashmiri family and their experience of living under the Indian army, under curfew, crackdowns, sudden disappearances and deaths, apart from the daily threats to livelihood and the constant humiliation. They have no militant connections, being harassed by separatist factions alike, but nowhere near the perennial ominous presence of the occupation. Endless war: the defining feature of the twenty-first century.
What I loved was the tone of their story and the narrator's voice: resentful at times, but mostly sad and defeated, asking for empathy and understanding. The sprinkling of Kashmiri phrases made the book immersive. The focus on invisible struggles and the impact of the occupation on Kashmiris' mental health was rare, urgent and important. However, the writing, including basic sentence structure and the aimless arrangement of chapters, needed much improving, and that fault lies with the editor. Despite these criticisms, it remains a tender and affecting account of lost adolescence that I hope will enable Indians to see Kashmir as more than just land for Modi's friends to buy, instead as a wounded people stuck between a rock and a stone. This concept of a nation state is absurd, after all, a silly identity we've created for ourselves. But the miracle of India is that it even exists as one, when you consider its heterogeneity. It's about time we tried to save this miracle and treat the Muslims of Kashmir with dignity. Reading the other side of things is a step in that direction.
What I loved was the tone of their story and the narrator's voice: resentful at times, but mostly sad and defeated, asking for empathy and understanding. The sprinkling of Kashmiri phrases made the book immersive. The focus on invisible struggles and the impact of the occupation on Kashmiris' mental health was rare, urgent and important. However, the writing, including basic sentence structure and the aimless arrangement of chapters, needed much improving, and that fault lies with the editor. Despite these criticisms, it remains a tender and affecting account of lost adolescence that I hope will enable Indians to see Kashmir as more than just land for Modi's friends to buy, instead as a wounded people stuck between a rock and a stone. This concept of a nation state is absurd, after all, a silly identity we've created for ourselves. But the miracle of India is that it even exists as one, when you consider its heterogeneity. It's about time we tried to save this miracle and treat the Muslims of Kashmir with dignity. Reading the other side of things is a step in that direction.
March 30, 2022
When I say I like intense books, I don’t mean a book that has a number of deaths or heartbreaks, what I mean is a book that talks about pain in a way that doesn’t scream or yells, but that keep on carrying on with mundane life with pain by their side, that no longer gets or tries to run away but surrender in that. The way a book talks about pain and loss as if it’s quite normal, I no longer take pity on those people’s helplessness or vulnerability, rather my heart breaks when I see resilience & hope in their eyes and I am not sure if they would be able to see a day of hope when I see acts of humanity conducted by those who themselves have faced it the least.
Rumours of Spring is an account of a girl in her adolescent years. Farah lives in Kashmir of near-almost siege, militants, and curfews, she is unable to experience the most common things of a young life. Fear that grips her heart at dusk with a tick of a clock if she is out on street, the quiet of nights, the clanking of boots, creaking of her own house floorboard scare her to death.
This book is honest. It talks about injustice, not with a cry but just with the eyes. I have read several books on Kashmir, but never like this. A book that doesn’t build up my anger or frustration, that doesn’t give me heartbreak with a brutal incident, but rather heartbreak crawls in me, it spoke to me silently, and yet I heard it the most. I wish I could do something, but for now, the most I can do is be aware, for which I think there’s not a more suitable thing than books.
Rumours of Spring is an account of a girl in her adolescent years. Farah lives in Kashmir of near-almost siege, militants, and curfews, she is unable to experience the most common things of a young life. Fear that grips her heart at dusk with a tick of a clock if she is out on street, the quiet of nights, the clanking of boots, creaking of her own house floorboard scare her to death.
This book is honest. It talks about injustice, not with a cry but just with the eyes. I have read several books on Kashmir, but never like this. A book that doesn’t build up my anger or frustration, that doesn’t give me heartbreak with a brutal incident, but rather heartbreak crawls in me, it spoke to me silently, and yet I heard it the most. I wish I could do something, but for now, the most I can do is be aware, for which I think there’s not a more suitable thing than books.
January 9, 2023
“Our lives were controlled from elsewhere and the dreams that we dreamt were always at the mercy of someone else, someone occupying us, ruling us.”
Farah Bashir starts her memoir on one December evening in 1994, a few hours after the death of her grandmother, her Bobeh. The story alternates between Bobeh's passing and funeral preparations and flashbacks to when the curfew first started in 1989, when Farah was just twelve years old. Bashir recalls the sounds of gunfire and convoys while growing up in Srinagar, Jammu and Kashmir. She also recounts the most violent time in the early 1990s, when members of human rights organizations were killed in riots and military crackdowns. Life was split into before and after 1989.
Bashir captures the intolerable reality that affected every aspect of her life in exquisite prose. For one, her education suffered the blow of militancy; in the three years between 1991 and 1993, school was hardly ever open. The daily pleasures of life were tainted with memories that she stopped enjoying freshly baked bread. In addition, she felt conscious of her body for the first time while walking in the streets of her neighbourhood.
“…in the presence of so many military bunkers and the gaze of the unknown men inside them, I suddenly became aware of my body and its contours ... I felt naked. I tried to fold into the school bag clutched in front of me.”
Through all the pain and hardship, we get glimpses of the rich, traditional heritage of Kashmir from the rituals of storing grain for the year and drying vegetables to eat during the harsh winters, as well as making drinks like kahwa and nun chai to clothing and proverbs.
As a Palestinian, I identify with the struggle of Kashmiris for azadi. A couple of years ago, I was searching for versions of ‘Bella Ciao’ & I found a Kashmiri one. Two lines stood out:
“Israeli tarkeeb, chuv tohi aazmaanwaan
Aes ti hyochmuth falestini intifaad”
“You adapt Israel’s tactics
But, we have also learnt Palestinian intifada”
I’d like to end this review with this chant: “Ham kya chahte? Azadi!”
Farah Bashir starts her memoir on one December evening in 1994, a few hours after the death of her grandmother, her Bobeh. The story alternates between Bobeh's passing and funeral preparations and flashbacks to when the curfew first started in 1989, when Farah was just twelve years old. Bashir recalls the sounds of gunfire and convoys while growing up in Srinagar, Jammu and Kashmir. She also recounts the most violent time in the early 1990s, when members of human rights organizations were killed in riots and military crackdowns. Life was split into before and after 1989.
Bashir captures the intolerable reality that affected every aspect of her life in exquisite prose. For one, her education suffered the blow of militancy; in the three years between 1991 and 1993, school was hardly ever open. The daily pleasures of life were tainted with memories that she stopped enjoying freshly baked bread. In addition, she felt conscious of her body for the first time while walking in the streets of her neighbourhood.
“…in the presence of so many military bunkers and the gaze of the unknown men inside them, I suddenly became aware of my body and its contours ... I felt naked. I tried to fold into the school bag clutched in front of me.”
Through all the pain and hardship, we get glimpses of the rich, traditional heritage of Kashmir from the rituals of storing grain for the year and drying vegetables to eat during the harsh winters, as well as making drinks like kahwa and nun chai to clothing and proverbs.
As a Palestinian, I identify with the struggle of Kashmiris for azadi. A couple of years ago, I was searching for versions of ‘Bella Ciao’ & I found a Kashmiri one. Two lines stood out:
“Israeli tarkeeb, chuv tohi aazmaanwaan
Aes ti hyochmuth falestini intifaad”
“You adapt Israel’s tactics
But, we have also learnt Palestinian intifada”
I’d like to end this review with this chant: “Ham kya chahte? Azadi!”
April 4, 2022
“What becomes of homes that have their doors bolted, windows tightly shut, and curtains drawn during the daytime with the families they house inside them desolate? Should we not call them prisons? We should!”
If a memoir sounds like this one, I can definitely read a lot of them. I loved how everything seemed like a memory, an incident, a story from the past beautifully depicting the traditions and rituals and sometimes even simple day to day things and fear. This is the truth of a horrific time from the eyes of a young schoolgirl whose life changed with every passing second of long curfew nights. We could see the contrast between the pre and post conflict times. How slowly happy memories and times were replaced by pain, sorrow, and fear. I found myself wanting not to believe in what I was reading because it was so unjustified. How families were torn and forced to live a life that was no less than that of prisoners. I can’t imagine a life in those circumstances. That is not a free life but a life in prison.
The memoir was a tale full of beauty followed by dread. And I think it was definitely something I would have wanted to read and I’m so glad that I did.
If a memoir sounds like this one, I can definitely read a lot of them. I loved how everything seemed like a memory, an incident, a story from the past beautifully depicting the traditions and rituals and sometimes even simple day to day things and fear. This is the truth of a horrific time from the eyes of a young schoolgirl whose life changed with every passing second of long curfew nights. We could see the contrast between the pre and post conflict times. How slowly happy memories and times were replaced by pain, sorrow, and fear. I found myself wanting not to believe in what I was reading because it was so unjustified. How families were torn and forced to live a life that was no less than that of prisoners. I can’t imagine a life in those circumstances. That is not a free life but a life in prison.
The memoir was a tale full of beauty followed by dread. And I think it was definitely something I would have wanted to read and I’m so glad that I did.
January 23, 2022
A vivid documentation of terror and hope.
January 11, 2023
"Gar firdaus bar-rue zamin ast, hami asto, hamin asto, hamin ast."
As a student of geography, I had to learn about borders, how they are drawn and in which colour. Which ones are drawn in broken lines, and which in continuous strokes. Although in my training, I'd had to draw continuous strokes around the crown of my country, with time I realised, no border in the world is as broken as that of Kashmir. I don't think Amir Khusro has ever intended for his statement to be read as an irony, but as we stand at the heart of a war, for something as simple as identity, you cannot help but register it. Kashmir is a paradise, a paradise lost in a prison.
Rumours of Spring is an account of the ordinary life of a Kashmiri adolescent between late 1980s and early 1990s. It is broken into 6 sections and each account begins at some hour post the death of the author's grandmother, but life in Kashmir is not ordinary, has not been for many years.
Farah Bashir has beautifully executed the book. It touches on how seemingly trivial aspects of life under siege can have disastrous repercussions. Things such as the effect of tear gas on the old and the young, or how something as ordinary as the call of a cicada can evoke traumas of shootouts and grenade blasts. She also touches on the state of mental health in Kashmir, which I find is largely overlooked in political literature. I couldn't help but compare this to Azadi, which I read earlier this year. While Roy wrote from a point of political privilege away from turmoil, Bashir writes from the heart of the oppression, with the pen of an adult but the truthfulness of a child. Roy's words come from acute empathy but Bashir's source is the lived reality of an entire childhood, intoxicated by the constant fear of crackdowns and shootouts.
Over all it was an educational yet concise book on Kashmir, I'd recommend to everyone.
Having said that there's some things I didn't like about the book :
1. It is riddled with typing and grammatical errors that just shouldn't have made it past the editor of a book marketed by Harper Collins.
2. I don't necessarily like the broken narrative of the book.
My thoughts : I think ordinary people like you and me, we have always looked at Kashmir as a fantasy land. If we start seeing it as just something more than a piece of property, a place that living, breathing people call home we would understand it better, and empathise with these multitude of people who know nothing about life that is ordinary, who live in the shadows of war.
As a student of geography, I had to learn about borders, how they are drawn and in which colour. Which ones are drawn in broken lines, and which in continuous strokes. Although in my training, I'd had to draw continuous strokes around the crown of my country, with time I realised, no border in the world is as broken as that of Kashmir. I don't think Amir Khusro has ever intended for his statement to be read as an irony, but as we stand at the heart of a war, for something as simple as identity, you cannot help but register it. Kashmir is a paradise, a paradise lost in a prison.
Rumours of Spring is an account of the ordinary life of a Kashmiri adolescent between late 1980s and early 1990s. It is broken into 6 sections and each account begins at some hour post the death of the author's grandmother, but life in Kashmir is not ordinary, has not been for many years.
Farah Bashir has beautifully executed the book. It touches on how seemingly trivial aspects of life under siege can have disastrous repercussions. Things such as the effect of tear gas on the old and the young, or how something as ordinary as the call of a cicada can evoke traumas of shootouts and grenade blasts. She also touches on the state of mental health in Kashmir, which I find is largely overlooked in political literature. I couldn't help but compare this to Azadi, which I read earlier this year. While Roy wrote from a point of political privilege away from turmoil, Bashir writes from the heart of the oppression, with the pen of an adult but the truthfulness of a child. Roy's words come from acute empathy but Bashir's source is the lived reality of an entire childhood, intoxicated by the constant fear of crackdowns and shootouts.
Over all it was an educational yet concise book on Kashmir, I'd recommend to everyone.
Having said that there's some things I didn't like about the book :
1. It is riddled with typing and grammatical errors that just shouldn't have made it past the editor of a book marketed by Harper Collins.
2. I don't necessarily like the broken narrative of the book.
My thoughts : I think ordinary people like you and me, we have always looked at Kashmir as a fantasy land. If we start seeing it as just something more than a piece of property, a place that living, breathing people call home we would understand it better, and empathise with these multitude of people who know nothing about life that is ordinary, who live in the shadows of war.
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