Leopard Stories of Kashmir

The Happy Valley of Kashmir is not dwelt in by the fierce tiger or the ferocious lion. It abounds in bears and there are also many leopards. Panthers are found here and there. Both the leopard and the panther are known as 'suh' or 'shair' to the Kashmiri. Except the gypsy tribes and Gujar shepherds, the average Kashmiri is not sports-minded nor does he encounter the leopard so often as the vandalistic bear.

The first impulse of a typical Kashmiri is to respect the 'shah,-for he does not know how to distinguish between the manly leopard and the feminine panther. A veteran Shikari- of course, a Kashmiri, one of those local hunters whose services are indispensable to the visitor-sportsman-once told me, when I asked him the distinctive features of the leopard and a panther, "Leopard is masculine and he is bolder and bigger in size than the panther. The panther is a thief." He meant that the panther prowls more. The panther not unusually hides cunningly in ruts, crevices and behind bushes. Not so the leopard, whose range of roaming can be extensive, and who, therefore, provides better sport to the keen sportsman-and, incidentally, stories to the people.

PLUCKY ENGLISH HUNTER

Major Smith was one of those many retired English officials who take a fancy to Kashmir and spend the rest of their days in the "Eden of the East:" Hunting was more than his hobby. It was his dominant passion. For most part of the year, as and when the weather allowed, he was a-hunting in Kashmir forests.

Learning the use of the steel glove, which is worn on the left hand and thrust in the neck of the leopard, the bear or other game in a close grappling duel, he became extremely proficient with it. Of bears, leopards and panthers, he had more than ten heads to his personal credit-proudly decorating his drawing room-and all of them, he, with incredible luck, had victimised with the deadly use of the steel glove. The old Kashmiri hunter, who told me about the Major's exploits, said, "The Major Sahib had such luck and such daring which I have not seen any Vilayati to have, so far in my long life."

But the hunter also added, "Now listen, Pandit Sahib. We were three hunters with the Major Sahib in a forest where leopards abounded like hares! It was the crack of dawn and we were a-hunting already. We reached a precipitous top. The patch of flat ground, covered with pines, on which we stood, overlooked a majestic valley and a giddying ravine edged away from us.

A leopard appeared. It was obviously a ferocious she-leopard. She jumped and capered and growled as she espied us. We, the hunters, spread out with fixed bayonets leaving a passage for the leopard to pass so that she would leap upon the Major Sahib, who was ready with his steel glove and kakri. This was our usual tactics. The leopard first came upon me but I did not fire because I would not spoil the sport of the Major Sahib. Anyhow the leopard did not leap at me but, emitting a thundering roar, she went straight at the Major Sahib.

"The Major Sahib- O, save me, Allah !-fell down and the leopard was on him; still we did not fire at the brute for his orders were express that we should never interfere with his hand-to-hand duels even if he were wounded badly.

"And then, you know, even if I did fire, I might have killed the Major Sahib. With superhuman strength, the Major Sahib, shading his face with the glove, extricated himself from the paws of the leopard. But his shoulder and his leg were bleeding over the torn clothes. It was a terrible sight seeing him like that.

"In the twinkling of an eye, the Major Sahib made a fierce gesture at us to keep away while he pierced both the steel spikes of the glove and the kakri in to the neck of the leopard who gave out a whining roar. My Allah! Allah is great and Allah is one!-it was a hell to look at seeing the Major Sahib and the leopard bleeding, profusely. All his earlier duels had been more or less clean affairs and that was why we called him the, Miracle Hunter.' He would use the glove and the kakri only to give a stunning fall to his prey and then lest the beast standup again, he would fire at it from close range and end the life out of the game. But this time it was a hell for both, the Major Sahib and the leopard.

"Standing like that, they fell and rolled together on the ground. The Major Sahib again tried to extricate himself, but this time, my Allah, I saw to my horror, for I loved the kind Major Sahib, that the forepaw of the leopard was clenched on his face and in his very mouth. Terrible bleeding. The leopard's back was towards me. I fired at it.

"The two still rolled and rolled, till they reached the edge of the precipice. We ran and tried all together to hold the hands and legs of the Major Sahib and hold him back. We tried all our strength. It was in vain. The leopard and the Major Sahib rolled over the edge and down the precipice and I, with everything swimming before my eyes, felt the earth flying before me in a dazed moment. My Great Allah !"


The hunter took a pause here. He prayed with outstretched hands, saying something in Arabic, in which I could make out the name of the Major Sahib. The effort of the harrowing reminiscence overpowered him and I also felt tears coming to my eyes. I checked them and stared at the furrowed hollowed face of the hunter, which was blanched for a moment. Making an obvious effort, he went on:

"Afterwards I was told by my hunter-companions that I half fell over the leopard and the Major Sahib but they, thanks to Allah my preserver, caught me by the lappets of my coat and my belt and saved me from falling. They said that the sight of the shrieking Major Sahib
and the low growls of the dying leopard as they fell, quicker and quicker, over the boulders and rocks for, as it were, miles together, was the most ghastly they had ever seen. They believed that both of them were dead before they reached the distant bottom of the ravine where they must have fallen in some inaccessible fissure, I was told, when I
came to senses after about one hour. When I knew what had happened to my dear master, I wasn't myself for days together, when the police, the military afsar and the Tehsildar and Angrezi afsar log and the police took our statements."

The narrative moved me. Tears visibly beaded the hunter's eyes. I thought of those summer tourists who dub Kashmiris as faithless,unreliable,liars and so on !

I GREET A LEOPARD

Years back, when I was student, I used to get disgusted with the too long winter vacation that our college gave us. Daily long walks, even in the severest weather, helped to kill the ennuni born of too much leisure. Brij Nath and I would buckle up our warm coats, wrap our mufflers close, feeling warm in gloves and woollen socks, we would trot out for the day. A convention was that the condition of the weather would not affect this daily strenuous programme to which we had pledged ourselves ! Another was that everyday we must repair to a different destination, however far that might be.

The turn of Shankaracharya Hill came. It had snowed during the night, but not much. As we ascended the slushy path, it grew treacherous.

Brij Nath, timorous as ever, objected, "How can we reach the top when the path is so slippery?" I made no reply but trudged on. Then he added, correcting himself, "We'll reach the hell of a temple all right. But we can't come down." I laughed at his blasphemy for it was the first time I heard him decrying a temple-a sacred and ancient temple as that.

Merrily, I replied, resourcefully, "I shall find you a stick. Everything will be all right. Now buck up, for, I tell you, the Valley of Kashmir looks glorious when it wears the snow-mantle."

Srinagar and its suburbs did look grand. The thinned, sinuous Jhelum was a snake weeping over the soft, heaving bosom of the Valley. The densely packed city was buried under the snow. The arms and the main part of the Dal Lake looked themselves islands in a sea of snow, that bathed the overhanging mountains. As we perched on a cold rock on one side of the temple, the snow-draped deodars were modest brides to my adolescent imagination. We talked about everything and nothing in particular.

I was lost in contemplation of the sheety Gagribal Lake, sensitively reflecting the passing mists. Brij Nath startled me with, "There is a big cat! A big cat!" Just below, about half a furlong down, silhouetted on the hillside, sloping away from us, I saw the big bushy tail of a restless form. Was it a jackal, I thought? The animal turned right about and I saw the big head, the very proud whiskers and then, I saw the densely spotted body, brown and black dots playing on an excellent fur. All in a breathless moment. 

I shouted to Brij Nath, in the greatest excitement, "It's a leopard! Stand up! Away!" Foolishly, he persisted, for he had never seen one, "It is a big cat, I am sure." I locked my hands in his and pushed him, giving a last apprehensive look at the leopard who still looked towards the opposite mountain. We ran for our life and climbed the long, tiring flight of ancient stone staircase to the temple. Thank God, the pujari was there. He confirmed that it was a leopard, for only on the previous day he had seen one. He also said, pointing towards the huge Siva idol, water trickling over its smooth sides, "If God saves one, who can kill him?"

TWO RED EYES IN THE DARK

I was still panting. When we sort of felt normal my usual curiosity overcame me and I said to the pujari, after he had bathed the Siva idol, wiped its shining sides clean and besmeared it with saffron paste, "Where did you meet the leopard?"

'Oh! that, don't be anxious to know that," he, true to his holy salt, started a kindly sermon (on the Shankaracharya Mount !), which was, of course in tune with our pristine surroundings. 'But remember, boys, a shair is a devotee of God. He is not an enemy of man as the black bear is. He loves man only if man will respect him. For, everybody knows, he is the undisputed king of the forest..."

Here, several bustling prayerful ladies, reddened and breathing audibly, came in with "Har-Har Mahadev!" and told Mahadevji, "You are and You'll be." The pujari attended to them. They walked three times round the interior stone pavement running round the
pillars which enclosed the idol on a pedestal. It was impossible to talk to the pujari, for they kept him busy all the time. I could not even pray, so long as they vociferously conversed with their god, caressing him, besmearing him, putting flowers and washed rice on him-the god with many complexes and attributes.

When the devout worshippers did leave after all, I prodded the pujari, 'Well, come on, pujariji. Tell us your experience."


He wasn't complimented but he resumed his admonishing trend, adding, "I was telling you that the shair is the king of the forest. His eyes, his straight and light bearing, his regal gait tell one that. So one should respect him by not looking straight into his eyes. Look down on the earth, when you meet a shair. Don't stare back at him for his anger spells death for the haughty man. Bow before him and he will never touch your hair."

"Enough of that," broke in Brij Nath. "We are getting late now."

"O, no, Brij Nath," I mocked him. "There is no big cat here. Let Pujari Sahib tell us his tale."

"Here you are;" after all the self-chosen priest was coming to the point. "I come up here early in the morning, earlier than the dawn. I watch the glorious dawn of the mountains from this door. On the way up, it is nearly dark.

"Yesterday as I trudged up, balancing the pitcher on my shoulder with my left hand, and holding a stick with the other, I heard a faint sound near the bend where you find the small Chinar. I thought it was an owl, but the fall of a soft tread made me stop at a standstill. My heart beat fast but l preserved my poise, thanks to this god"-beckoning the shining idol.

'Two red eyes stared at me in the dark. I knew it was a shair. I looked down at the path which I could dimly see in the starlight. The two flaming charcoals moved here and there for a split second. Their blurred images burned on my retina as I still looked down, reverently, praying to the shair and Siva to protect my life for the service of this god. A growl and the shair lashed the path with his tail, producing a sharp, cracking sound.

"The sudden sound unnerved me but I still prayed. With the tails of my eyes, I looked at the dark form, whose very breathing I could hear, I saw only one burning dot. Due to the movement, my staff struck a rock and its steel point rang. In a moment, the figure took a soft leap and was gone."

Was that all?" I said rather disappointed. But the pujari was now lost in the contemplation of the idol, perhaps thanking it once again for his deliverance. While we left, I thought how his remarks about the sanctity of a leopard were very much current in Kashmir villages.

LOVER OF MUSIC

Sahepura is a village near Ganderbal-one of the beauty spots of Kashmir. A tributary of the Indus flows by the quiet village. In summer it is not unusual for peasants to rest under the grand Chinar tree after the hard day's toil. There they smoke, cut jokes and watch the thin stream flow placidly by.

I happened to be present at one such meeting. Somebody talked about bears. Habiba gave his interesting bear story (which has appeared in Bear Stories). Mahmudoo, not to be outdone, launched a leopard story. Here it is :-

"You all know that my father-in-law lives at Ajas-"

"Yes," put in Jammu jocularly, "We know Ajas is your father-in-law!"

"-and Ajas is a small village nestled around the foot of a mountain. The mountain is covered with dense forests and is infested with all beasts of prey that our Mother Kashmir has. I have told you how 1 came across a bear in the forest who was afraid of us and he ran away like a cat.

"The villagers of Ajas are a merry people. They love singing and dancing. Every year they subscribe for a Band-i-Jashan to be celebrated in the big hall of the house of the Zaildar, Ali Sheikh.

The Jashan lasts a whole night. Happily I was there, when one such Jashan was to be held. My father-in-law was one of the managers. So, I got quite a respectable place around the carpeted square, where the singing party and dancers were to sit and dance.
"The song and dance was at its best at about midnight. There was an interval for tea, highly flavoured Kashmiri sugar tea, khawa not salt tea that we have here. Then we heard the piercing howling of jackals, it appeared quite near. And then we heard, O, Allah ! we heard a leopard roar outside. Only one window of the hall was open. My father-in-law at once shut it. Instantly there was panic and everyone cried, 'Suh Ho!' But my father-in-law, still standing by the window, took command of the situation. He put his fingers on his lips and commanded silence. Nobody seemed even to breathe.

'The leopard struck against the window for it was just above the level of the courtyard. A wooden pane broke and we were horrified to see a paw of the leopard and then another jutting in from another broken pane. Horror was written on the face of everyone. Red apples left the cheeks of Ali Sheikh and the Pir!

"In another moment, the leopard would have broken his way through, but for what my father-in-law did. He calmly lifted the latch and threw the window open. The leopard leaped in. Some shrieks. We crept under our blankets. A few fled out of the hall. The leopard ran after one running servant, caught his pheran in his mouth playfully, but did not touch him. We were amazed when we saw the leopard playing like a big cat.

"My father-in-law shouted at the singers, 'You bastard fools! Don't you know what you have to do? This is a devout leopard, the one who visits Haji Sahib's shrine. He has come here for the music. He, I tell you, is a lover of music. Start music at once or, if he gets angry, Allah help you then.'

"The musicians at once started music. The dancer-boy, still trembling, was made to stand up by my father-in-law. Music and dance visibly affected the leopard. He crouched down near the middle of the hall. According to the instructions of some old men, the music and dance programme was kept on at full swing, without even a moment's rest. 

"The leopard was, at it were, rooted to the floor, even as this Chinar is rooted to the bank. He stared at the dancer-boy and the musicians. And when the cock first crew, the leopard gave a mighty roar, then stood up. We, nervous all along, were now horrified. All of us were there because Ali Sheikh had not allowed anyone to slip away, much as we would have liked. But thank Allah, the leopard moved about a little, looked at the singing party and then leaped out of the window. He lashed his big tail on the ground and was gone, yes, gone away. Yes the music-lover leopard, you see, did not even touch our hair!"

THE DEVOUT LEOPARD

We, the members of the Kashmir Fellowship Society, were enjoying a moon-light hike, over Shankaracharya. Shall I tell you what our stay-at-home critics said about such a trip? They, lifting their brows in the accepted highbrow style, deprecatingly, characterised such hikes as 'romantic' experiences. Perched on the stone platform flanking the eastern side of the temple, overlooking Srinagar and its surroundings in the ethereal moonlight, we enjoyed the sight of the moonlit mountains whose topping snows looked indeed romantic and unearthly in milky light of the full moon. We ate omnivorously and gulped it all down with Kashmir tea steaming from the big samovar Oh! those precious moments were unforgettable. (God willing we will have more of them.)

The talk went round. It somewhat centred on the leopards of Kashmir. I recounted my experience of having greeted a leopard somewhere near the place where we sat, pointing out the spot. A young member (was it Mattoo or Ajodhya Nath?) gave a little shudder. Sham Lal then described his experience which he had in the vicinity of the Shankaracharya Hill at the foot of the opposite mountainside:

"Professor Sahib, I too have seen a leopard just nearby. Come on, Fellowship Society members, listen. Last year we were walking late in the night by the road leading under the yonder mountain from the Cantonment to Srinagar city.

"A Gurkha student was with us. When we passed by the graveyard, situated on the foot of the mountain he said to us, 'Do you know a leopard comes here every Friday night?' and we all roared with laughter.

"Bu- heard the mysterious sound of a soft but heavy tread, and, believe me, about a hundred yards ahead of us, we saw two glowing eyes of a leopard, as one of us whisperingly said, 'Look, there is the shair ; and it was there--"

Sham Lal was interrupted by others who talked of the devout leopards, visiting temples, mosques and graveyards in mountain villages. But Sham Lal forcefully summed up the argument:


"You ought to know the leopard is a devout animal. He visits graveyards and mosques on Friday nights. My friend saw one near Baba Rishi's mosque (Baba Rishi was a Muslim saint, whose shrine near Gulmarg is visited by Muslims and Hindus alike) on a Friday night. Villagers there see the devout leopard-'an old fellow' they call him-and he harms no man. I was told that our Maharaja once encountered this old leopard and understanding that this king of the forest was the devout leopard of Baba Rishi, our wise Maharaja did not kill him." Believe it or not!

CONCLUSION

There are not so many leopard stories current among the people of Kashmir as there are bear stories. Leopards and panthers are much less depredatory to man and his property. The leopard occasionally takes fancy to dogs and kills a watch-dog or two during the night in a mountain hamlet but that, again, does not cause much loss. The saying is that a leopard never changes his spots. True, it is also that the leopard shows a respect for man and unlike the quarrelsome bear, keeps him at an arms length, so long as possible. A panther, lying in hiding, rarely pounces upon a man just as the tiger of Bengal does.

The leopard is keenly sought by hunters for his valuable fur. In life and after, thanks to the taxidermists, the leopard retains his majesty and the panther, the feminine contours of its small body.