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The families that fled Tibet with the Dalai Lama

The families that fled Tibet with the Dalai Lama
My grandfather Faizullah Baba with my uncles Abdullah and Majid. Darjeeling, India. Circa 1957

My grandfather Faizullah Baba with my uncles Abdullah and Majid. Darjeeling, India. Circa 1957 Image & Narrative contributed by Soheb Ahmed Baba, New Delhi Volunteer Assistance : Myra Khanna, New Delhi The man in the photograph above is my grandfather Faizullah Baba. Standing left is my grand father’s eldest son, my uncle, Abdullah, age 7, and on the right is Abdullah's cousin Majid. During the Tibetan Uprising in 1959, fearing for his life, the Dalai Lama and his advisers fled Tibet with the help of the CIA and were given asylum by the Indian Government. While the world press published stories of strain in Indo-China relationships, very few threw light on the families that followed the Dalai Lama and fled from Tibet to India in the subsequent months. My grandfather and his family were few of the many that also fled to India to seek a better and peaceful life after the uprising. Our family, however, weren't Buddhists but Muslim minorities living in Tibet and were often referred to as "Ka- chee" which literally means Kashmiri or Kashmir. One of the reasons that my grandfather also decided to flee was because he sensed Islam being suppressed by the Chinese Government and felt India to be more secular and comforting. Historically, our ancestors were from Kashmir. On one hand, they were traders who would travel between Kashmir and Lhasa to exchange goods, and on the other, they preached the teachings of Islam. Many community traders married local Tibetan women forming a fusion of cultures and resulting in the gradual growth of the Tibetan-Muslim community in Tibet. It was important for our ancestors that the young were educated in the lessons & practices it boasted and…

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“The most amusing thing about the movie was that we had no script”

“The most amusing thing about the movie was that we had no script”
Amitabh and I. On the sets of 'Mr. Natwarlal'. Bombay, Maharashtra. 1979

Amitabh Bachchan and I. On the sets of 'Mr. Natwarlal'. Bombay, Maharashtra. 1979 Image and Narrative contributed by Tony Juneja, Mumbai My name is Ramanjit Singh Juneja, however family and friends affectionately call me Tony, and now everyone knows me as Tony Juneja. I was born in 1954 in Patiala, Punjab, and my father worked as a liquor supplier to the Army Canteen stores and Indian Army Troops. Even as a child I was attracted to cinema. While studying at Bishop Cottons in Simla, Himachal Pradesh, I would passionately read every edition of the ‘Picture Post’, a now forgotten english magazine about hindi films - even during class. Our family used to own bonded warehouses for liquor in Nagaland, so we would travel and live in the region often. Once we grew up, my elder brother Kushaljeet (known as Tito) took a leap and began producing Assamese Films in Dimapur and Guwahati.  I too, would visit Guwahati often during summer vacations and watch them shoot and so the interest only heightened. I remember in 1972, the film we were shooting was called Mukta (later it received the President's Award). And I joined my brother as a Production Boy. That was my first job in films. My role was to wake up early in the morning and ensure that the unit travels to the shooting location and then post the shoot, bring them back. Tito, my brother, went on to establish himself as a distributor of Indian motion pictures for the West Bengal territory and I moved to Calcutta (now Kolkata) with him. After a year or so my brother decided to move to Bombay, where all the mainstream movies were being made and…

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The first time she saw a man die

The first time she saw a man die
My father Anupam Kumar Shome and I. Srinagar, Kashmir. 1983

My father Anupam Kumar Shome and I. Srinagar, Kashmir. 1983 Image and Narrative contributed by Tillotama Shome, Mumbai In the early 80’s we lived in Rajbagh extension, near Zero Bridge in Srinagar, Kashmir. I was four years old and on my way to school with my father Anupam Kumar Shome. He was an Airforce officer. En route to school we got stuck in traffic. Apparently, there was a 'shoot out' up ahead. As the police cleared the traffic and guided us, I saw through the arches of crowded human legs, a body of a dead man, drenched in blood. The contrast of the red blood against white of snow was inexplicable and I was witnessing the lifelessness of death for the first time. My father shepherded me back home. His face was gaunt and I kept crying all the way back home. The same day he took me out for a ride in a boat and suddenly said, “You saw what happened today? It is all because of religion.” I had no idea who religion was, the names of religion’s parents, where he or she lived, what he or she did for a living, why he or she killed that man or did not save him. I was only four. I just cried. Because of what he may have seen and experienced, I think my father had come to a conclusion and a decision that religion brings grief, so Hindu spiritual ceremonies or references like Pujas, pundits, shradhs, kundli (astrology), and havans were never a welcome guest in our household. My religion or requirement of some faith, became the need to be aware of the consequences of my actions, my thoughts…

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The last photograph of a family together

The last photograph of a family together
Possibly the first photograph of the village, a Kashmiri Pandits Extended Family. My grandmother, Tara Dhar, (second from right in the top row), my grandfather Raghunath Dhar (fourth from right in the same row) Between them is my great grandmother, Sokhmal Dhar. Vicharnag, Srinagar, Kashmir. Circa 1915

Possibly the first photograph of the village, a Kashmiri Pandits Extended Family. My grandmother, Tara Dhar, (second from right in the top row), my grandfather Raghunath Dhar (fourth from right in the same row) Between them is my great grandmother, Sokhmal Dhar. Vicharnag, Srinagar, Kashmir. Circa 1915 Image and Narrative points contributed by Anil Dhar, Mumbai This is probably the first, and as it turned out, the last ever photograph taken of my entire Kashmiri Pandit extended family. The Dhar Family. My grandmother, Tara Dhar, stands second from right in the top row, and my grandfather Raghunath Dhar, fourth from right in the same row. Between the men is my great grandmother, Sokhmal Dhar. The family was photographed in Vicharnag, a small village situated on the outskirts of Srinagar, Kashmir. Vicharnag when translated, means “the spring of contemplation". The village has a centuries-old temple complex which housed several Pandit families including mine for hundreds of years. The Dhar family belongs to the Kashmiri Pandit community - the only Brahmin Hindu community native to Kashmir. These were also good times, when ties between all communities, be it Hindu or Muslim, were strong and warm. This picture holds so many cultural nuances. For instance, the headgear of the elder male members was different from the younger male members. Moreover, the women were not in purdah (veiled) displaying some liberal social and cultural aspects of the community at the time. After belonging to a land for centuries, the families were forced to uproot themselves because of Indo-Pakistani border War of 1947, and then again in 1990 because of the eruption of radical militancy and ethnicity based massacres by subversives, on the Pandits. It is said that approximately 250,000…

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