Nishat

Nishat

Old Poona’s cinema theatres had some interesting names - Westend, Empire, Liberty, Apollo, Excelsior – all worthy institutions of their time, some screening only English movies while others the Hindi or vernacular ones.

There was a cinema theatre adjacent to our school named Nishat. A very old one but one in which had premiered some classics from the golden age of Hindi - such as  `Dosti’ and `Zindagi’.  It did not need to be a cinema buff to know which new film was being screened as a huge balloon tethered to Nishat’s roof would go up carrying a banner that heralded the name of the new release.

What Nishat meant, the language to which the word belonged, few knew after passing out of school, the theatre and its name faded out of sight and mind.

Years later, the word Nishat came back with unexpected suddenness - in Srinagar, as out tourist bus stopped at the gates of Nishat Gardens. The mind's eye at once was taken back to the old cinema hall.

Nishat Gardens are a treat even when not in the season of bloom. Its rows of flowerbeds with an array of rich contrasting colours, reflected skilled horticultural artistry. Each leaf seemed manicured and the painstaking efforts of the gardeners was evident everywhere. The far high end of the garden, looking towards the Dal Lake, afforded a veritable picture postcard view.

The next event on the tour agenda was in fact a ‘shikara’ ride in the Dal Lake. This is a novel floating body designed with privacy as the prime objective. The oarsman operates from behind the high backrest of the seat that faced out into the open expanse of the lake from which a couple could enjoy a unhindered frontal view of the lake. Gliding slowly and silently on the waters lulls both mind and body and is an important factor that gives Srinagar its reputation as a honeymooners' haven. Riding a shikara, it is not long before the newlyweds lose themselves in the breathless beauty of nature. An unwritten law of `honouring others’ privacy’ is seemingly adhered but few can honestly resist the temptation to sneak glances onto the goings on aboard other shikaras. Privacy, in essence, is being unseen to those known. It really does not matter who is watching, as long as they are strangers!

Single riders are perceived as voyeurs and the repelling looks and stares become coldly evident. The unarticulated yet strongly perceptible public pressure against singular presence was compelling to seek the boat diverted away from `honeymooners’ territory', into the segment of the lake left of the Nehru Park, where the less exotic and cheaper houseboats were parked, to join a bustling floating marketplace with sellers in boats laden with flowers, trinkets and memorabilia, weaving between and around the houseboats. Business was brisk and apparently good fun for both buyers and sellers.

A punt gently oared by an old man aged enough to be the grandfather of its sole passenger, drew alongside.  Shabu was the name of the little girl who had a basketful of lotus buds priced by her at two for a rupee.

When asked the cost of five buds, she first grasped the three Rupee coins handed by reaching out from one boat to the other. On seeing them, she sensed something was wrong in the deal and went into a sort of trance to recalculate. The answer emerged with a smile and in an act of urgent correction, before the boats were out of range of her little hands, she threw one more lotus bud towards us. The peace in her mind as she did so was visible. It is the smile she flashed that stays ingrained in memory - at once a visual testimony to her innocence, joy, values and her sense of achievement.

Back at the home of our hosts, discussion focussed on the meaning of the word “Nishat’. No one seemed to know. Some references were made to neighbours who conveyed it to be the equivalent of `pure and unmixed happiness'. How apt. The garden, the lake and even more – the innocent and joyful Shabu with her radiance of such joy and purity – all so pure and of unmixed happiness.

Shortly thereafter, the valley of enchanting beauty, flowers entered a dark phase in its history bringing untold suffering and misery to its people. How it affected the Nishat garden was never reported, but it would be very sad indeed if animosity amongst humans is directed against flower plants.

And Shabu … with each horrendous event one read of, the mind went back to her. One hoped she was safe wherever she was, unaffected by the flames of turbulence. Now grown up, she would perhaps be married with children of her own. Hopefully, their circumstances allow them to smile in the same carefree way as their mother in her childhood.

The lesson this little flower girl of the lake taught was that it is only when the smallest transactions of life are settled to smiling satisfaction that is `Nishat' attained in thought and actions.