The Chhari Mubarak or the silver mace of Lord Shiva will, after the month-long yatra, reach its annual destination the holy cave of Amarnath and the ice lingam which waxes with the full moon.
There are many stories about the mace and how it came to be associated with the pilgrimage. But off the beaten path one heard this one at the shrine of Sheikh Kalimullah in Delhi, where the Kashmiri woodcutters and shawl sellers camp during their winter migration and is tempted to repeat it now that there is so much concern over the Yatra because of a terrorist threat. Incidentally, Kalimullah means one who talks to God and the name was originally given to the patriarch Moses. But Kalimullah, the saint whose shrine is situated opposite the Red Fort was a religious reformer in the reign of Aurangzeb and had his hospice at the spot where he was later buried.
It the 1960s the Kashmiri labourers used to migrate to the Capital in large numbers to escape the rigours of winter in their home State. Since one did not stay very far from the shrine, it was possible to visit it every evening for the qawwalis that were a regular feature then. Sitting outside one of the tents before a logwood fire on which the handi was being cooked, it was a pleasure to listen to a bearded man who spoke of the time when the custodian of the Chhari Mubarak was a Kashmiri Pundit who had embraced Islam.
Festive appeal
The man who will have to remain nameless as the storyteller just referred to him as the “former Pandit”, would bring out the Chhari every year to cries of Nare taqbeer. His family saw to it that the occasion turned into a real festive one, which drummers playing before the house since early morning. After the community feast the pilgrims used to assemble. Swinging the chhari, the ex-Pandit would proceed towards the mahant and hand it over to him with due ceremony amid cries of Har Har Mahadev.
The custodian, his sons and other male members of the family would accompany the procession for 500 yards while the women looked on. Then after embracing the mahant and enjoining on him the duty of bringing back the chhari safely, the custodian would return, but five of his relatives accompanied the mace right up to Amarnath. On the day of the full moon when the mahant reached the holy cave he would offer the chhari to the ice lingam, the visible form of the ever present Shiva, for it was actually his walking stick, which he missed the whole year. How it was bestowed to mankind is another story.
Kind-hearted god
Once while descending from his Himalayan abode, Shiva met a lame man who couldn’t move out of his way fast enough. His retort brought the reply from the lame man that he too would move fast if he had a silver walking stick. The kind hearted god immediately handed over his mace to him. The chhari remained in the man’s possession ever since. It was handed down from father to son until it came to the ex-Pandit. Well, he revered the heirloom all right and on the final day of the pilgrimage distributed sweets to mark the culmination of a great event.
And then on the return journey, when the runners brought word that the chhari procession was only a few miles away, the ex-Pandit and his family began preparing for the reception. Preceded by the nishan (flag) and drummers, the Chhari came into view and the custodian went forward to receive it.
He embraced the mahant again and swung the mace three times in the air to a deafening cheer and slogans, both of Hindus and Muslims. Everybody in the family rejoiced that the priceless heirloom had arrived safely, to be kept away with thanksgiving for another year.
We know how the Chhari now begins its journey from Jammu, arrives in Srinagar where it is kept at the Dashnami Akhara, and then taken by Mahant Dipender Giri after the puja to Pahalgam, from where it proceeds to the cave shrine via Chandanwari, Sheshnag and Panchtarni. But the bearded man’s tale, redolent with cries of Allah ho Akbar, Nare taqbeer and Har Har Mahadev, had its own charm and comes to mind as a symbol of communal amity, more so now because of the threat by the Harkat-ul-Ansar and other terrorists.
The pilgrimage may have culminated but the magic of the Chhari Mubarak, with its lovely Urdu name, lingers on the whole year. One does not know if that old man still comes for his annual sojourn at the shrine of Kalimullah Sahib, but even if he doesn’t, there must surely be someone still who relates such tales while the evening meal is cooked, for how can a Kashmiri forget the hallowed mace of Lord Shiva?
Even Allama Iqbal revered the god because of his Kashmiri Pandit ancestry that made him refer to Lord Rama as “Imam-e-Hind” and the Ganges as the life-sustaining sacred river.
To quote from the poet: “Ai Ab-e-rood Ganga hai yaad woh din tujko / Uttara tere kinare jab karavan hamara”. A lucid reference to the arrival of the Aryans. The Chhari Mubarak also is a relic of that cherished past.
The same shayar went on to eulogise the mother country with this remarkable verse: “Yunan, Misr, Rooma sab mit gaye jahan se / kuch baath hai ke hasti mitthi nahin hamari” (Greece, Egypt and Rome have gone into oblivion after their heyday, but isn’t it amazing that Indian civilisation still continues to flourish as of old)? The Amarnath Yatra, which started for the cave shrine with its ice lingam on June 28, is a vital strand in the perennial fabric that envelops Bharat Mata and the belief in Lord Shiva. But fewer Kashmiri woodcutters and shawl sellers come to Delhi now, though the legend of the silver mace lives on.
