Riding My Walnut Tree

 

One of my fondest childhood memories is of my stay at Vill Haal  nowadays called Hawal), in Distt Pulwama, Kashmir. I went to the place with my late grandmother – I must have been 4-5 years old. Her brother, Pt KNB (we used to call him Bobuji) used to live there. My grandmother, Kamlawati (fondly called Jigri) was a village lass (and mighty proud of it!); she owned some land there which her brother would look aft erfor her! So, a periodic visit to her mayka(maalyun in Kashmiri) was something she always looked forward to! Th e journey by bus from Srinagartook between 2-3 hours though Haal is just about 40 km from Srinagar,

on the Srinagar-Shopiyan Road, midway between Shopiyan and Pulwama; the bus service for Shopiyan was rather restricted – maybe 4-5 services in an entire day! Bus service to Pulwama from Srinagar was better but from Pulwama to Haal there was hardly any service. My uncle once took the last bus to Pulwama from Srinagar and had to walk the remaining distance to Haal (8-9 km), since no transport was available. From the spot we would get down from the bus, a narrow but elevated dusty road, about 300m, led to the house of Pt KNB. In the house I found a girl of my age, daughter of Pt KNB, who became my partner in crime over the next few days. Let us call her ‘S’, for convenience’s sake! On the left side of this dusty road stood a magnifi cent Walnut tree, tall and broad with many, many massive branches, laden with walnuts. Our walnut tree would have been 50-60 ft tall (if not more) and the girth of its trunk was massive (4-5 feet?). Since it belonged to one clansman of my grandmother, we were free to consider the tree as our personal property! What made this tree special was the easy approach from the backside – it stood next to a mud

n brick wall guarding a vegetable garden (called vaer in Kashmiri). We kids would climb the wall and reach the trunk where it branched out! Sitting on that spot was like sitting on a King’s throne for me! I have spent many an hour on the tree, sometimes pretending to be the driver of a bus or a timber laden truck that would occasionally fl y down the road! Th is was my world of make believe and I felt nothing less than a king (or driver) in my mind – satisfi ed and happy! Many generations of kids would have spent time on this magnifi cent tree! My partner S, being more adept and surefooted than me, a city-bred, would make her way to the upper echelons of the tree like a snake gliding up! I was content not to  follow her aft er my fi rest fall from the tree! It sure hurt – but the bruise was bigger on my ego! I was happy that she would share the fruits of her labour with me! Getting the green, unripe walnuts from the tree was the easier part – opening the nuts is the tough part! Fruit laden branches of a Walnut Tree A walnut taken out of its green outer shell Walnuts –as they grow on a tree, are green in colour. If allowed to ripen naturally, the outer greet coating falls off (aft er turning blackish), revealing a hard  rown shell that needs to be crackedto bring out the brownish kernel. However, the green, relatively unripe fruits too are relished but with a caveat –the green ones need to be handled very deft ly. Th e outer green coat hides a shell that contains the kernel. Th e green outer coat(husk)of the walnuts contains an acid called jug lone (besides other phenolic compounds like tannins and hydroxycinnamic acids) which also is a direct dye. It has the potential of not only staining our clothes but also, our skin! My friend S would take the green walnuts to her mom – God bless her, she was a whiz at handling the green walnuts! Th e trick for taking the kernels out of the green walnuts is to slice the top of the husk with a knife to reveal its inner shell; then, with the precision of a surgeon, tip of the

knife is inserted into the shell and the knife twisted in a clockwise motion – the walnut neatly breaks into two halves (goolye in Kashmiri). Again, the knife would be used to prise out the soft whitish – creme kernels from each half. Th ese kernels further need to be deskinned to reveal the fine, white kernels, best enjoyed with an apple or roasted corncob (makaivaet, in Kashmiri) or with a roti made of rice-flour( tomulchout, in Kashmiri)! Walnut (Botanical name Jagland regia, ‘Doon’ in Kashmiri) is believed to be of Persian origin. A walnut tree is a family heirloom since it  can live up to 200 years. Cutting and even pruning of walnut trees without permission was banned in J&K in 1969 – the act is punishable  ith imprisonment up to 6m. J&K, I was pleased to read recently, produces almost 98% of India’s total walnut produce. A walnut tree produces fruit after 9-12 years of plantation. Juglone can be toxic and most plants do not grow in proximity of a walnut tree. Bark of the walnut tree (called dandas in Kashmiri) also contains Juglone – it has traditionally been used in Kashmir for cleaning of teeth though the jug lone component can give a dark brownish colour to the lips! My late Mom was a great fan of ‘dandas’. Walnuts play an important role in Kashmiri Pandit culture and no religious ceremony is complete without the presence of the ubiquitous   nut(doon) in Kashmiri! The second part of my Haal stay relates to an ‘interesting’ bathing experience – myself and S went to a brook that flowed some 300m away from our house. It was really a very charming spot, covered by a canopy of trees that filtered sunrays through the thick foliage! Fresh flowing water, cool and crystal clear, wasp to our knees – rural Kashmir is full of such lovely brooks and streams! With nobody around, we two took off our clothes and jumped into the water! Over the next maybe 10-15 minutes, we took turns in jumping into the brook, splashing water at each other and generally enjoying the atmosphere! Suddenly, we became aware of noise of dogs barking – it appears there was a pack of those in the vicinity, madly snarling, barking, and chasing one another! As the noise neared us, we got terrified at the prospect of a pack of rogue dogs attacking us.Panicked, we bolted across the huge open space towards our house, unaware and probably uncaring of our physical status, leaving our clothes by the brook! We were breathless as we reached our home,only to be met with laughter – everybody was laughing at our condition. Of course, we tried to explain and even justify – even at 4-5 yrs of age, a bit of shame found its way into us kids, even in those uncomplicated days! Later, someone was sent to pickup our clothes from the banks of the  tream! But the incident and the sense of shame remained etched on my mind! Next day onwards, we were back to our Walnut Tree, having realized that life was safer on our ‘tree house’! Life moves on! I did not visit Haal ever again; my father got transferred, first to Punjab and later, to Jammu. Her father, though continued to visit us at Jammu. He was a businessman and would visit Jammu every few months. Besides being related, Bobuji was a friend and ‘card mate’ of my father! So, quite a few times, he would stay with us at Jammu. I was busy with my school life! Years passed and one day, S came to visit us at Jammu, with her husband! On seeing me, a blush rose on her face, probably recalling an event that had happened in the innocence of our childhood some 20 odd years back! I could only marvel at her innocence and simplicity!It has been over six decades since I visited Haal. That family too has left Haal after the 1990 ‘exodus’, relocating to Jammu. But I have fond memories of the place and of my time spent there! I feel that as kidswe had a richer childhood than even my own kids had in late 80s and nineties. We had less resources but more freedom -no toys to play; no electronic media gadgets (no phones!) to keep ourselves engaged! We children were expected to create our own avenues for keeping ourselves engaged, amused and happy! Yes, we had a big ‘aangan’ in which a flock of children would gather to play all sort of games! Our physical activity quotient was much higher than that of our children. I remember running around in snow, making a makeshift snowman in our ‘aangan’ with bare hands, engaging in ‘sow fighting (sheen-e-jang in Kashmiri) with our playmates. Our lives were certainly less complicated than what our children faced or are facing; in particular, the pressure to do well in exams – educational stress has become crazy! Today’s children have turned into slaves, first facing the mad pressures of the education system and later, becoming slaves of the corporate world! Thinking of my time spent running around meadows and fields, splashing around brooks and streams, climbing the Walnut (and other) trees, I feel blessed indeed! Each time I crack a walnut - it reminds me of my time spent ‘riding’ my walnut tree at Haal!

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Courtesy: SANJEEV MUNSHI and  Spade A Spade-MARCH 2025