Along with a dear friend, Murtuza Habib, I set out to explore the downtown quarters on a Sunday, hoping to understand our past, our history, and, ultimately, our people. We began in the wee hours at Habba Kadal (Purshar), where the Jhelum still whispers its stories to bridges that have held centuries together. From there, the lanes gently guided us through Karfali Mohalla, Dal Hassan Bhat, Mallarut, Bul Bul Lankar, and beyond—each turn offering a sense of familiar unfamiliarity.

Zaina Kadal, Fateh Kadal, Aali Kadal, Nawa Kadal—these are not merely locations. They are chapters in a living archive. This was not just a walk through historical lanes and by-lanes; it was a reminder of how far we have come as a society and as a community. At times, the realization felt encouraging; at others, deeply unsettling.

Walking becomes especially engaging when the filmmaker within you stays alert—drawn to old motifs, architectural marvels, and human faces etched with time. Listening to people’s stories was among the most fascinating aspects of this early-morning journey. The lanes and structures do not merely stand as testimony; they speak—of yesteryears, of lives lived with purpose and rhythm. The traditional Jhelum ghats beneath each iconic bridge offer fleeting glimpses into history, though they also reveal a sorry state of affairs. The embankments cry out for rigorous cleaning drives. Places of faith—temples, shrines, and Masjids—must become spaces where people are educated about cleanliness and a shared sense of belonging.

By the time we reached Narwara and Eidgah, the morning had transformed into a meditation on belonging. These localities are home to some of the finest craftsmen. This time, we chose not to visit Zadibal, the adjacent area known for masters of papier-mâché, calligraphy, and sokhta making. That detour would surely have carried us into another world altogether.

Downtown does not announce itself. It reveals itself—slowly, honestly, almost defiantly. In its narrow alleys and winding by-lanes, history breathes through brick and timber. Ancient houses lean gently into one another, as if sharing secrets. Markets—some freshly refurbished, others weary with age—stand side by side, reflecting both promise and neglect. Along the ghats, beauty struggles beneath layers of waste, a painful contrast to the elegance they once embodied.

There is silence here, but it is not emptiness. It is the silence of graveyards where generations rest; of shrines, temples, and masjids standing in quiet dignity; of people moving through routines shaped by centuries. This is a place where faiths have long coexisted, where art and craft once defined everyday life, where artisans shaped not only objects but culture itself.

And yet, as the walk deepened, so did a sense of discomfort. Neglect is undeniable. Faulty waste management has stripped Downtown of its aura, dulling its spirit and burdening its beauty. Dirty lanes and overflowing ghats are not merely civic failures—they are emotional ruptures. They distance us from our roots, from spaces that once defined who we are.

Why does Downtown Srinagar need a revamp?

Downtown Srinagar urgently needs a thoughtful and sensitive revamp because it embodies the city’s deepest historical, cultural, and environmental identity – an identity that is gradually being lost. For centuries, this area has been the heart of Srinagar’s river-based civilization, shaped by the Jhelum, traditional livelihoods, and a distinctive vernacular architecture. The old mud-and-wood houses, designed with remarkable climatic intelligence, provided natural insulation, sustainability, and resilience long before modern concepts of green architecture emerged.

However, years of neglect and unplanned modernization have severely eroded this legacy. Haphazard concrete structures have replaced traditional buildings, disrupting the visual harmony of the area and weakening its cultural continuity. These constructions not only appear as visual intrusions but also undermine environmental balance, as they ignore local materials, climate conditions, and traditional building wisdom. As a result, Downtown’s character—once defined by craftsmanship, spatial intimacy, and cultural memory is steadily fading.

Despite this decline, there have been meaningful efforts to reintroduce Downtown Srinagar to wider cultural and artistic discourse. The former Director of the Department of Handicrafts and Handlooms, and a dear friend, Mahmod A. Shah, played a crucial role in initiating programs such as the Downtown Craft Safari and calligraphy exhibitions. These initiatives helped expose the area’s rich artisanal heritage and revived interest in its creative potential. Many of my artist and filmmaker friends have since expressed a strong desire to explore Downtown’s artistic, cultural, and cinematic dimensions further, recognizing it as an untapped space of inspiration and storytelling.

The need for a revamp, therefore, is not about cosmetic beautification or aggressive redevelopment. It is about reclaiming Downtown Srinagar’s past with sensitivity and respect, and using that foundation to shape a more rooted, inclusive, and sustainable future. Revitalizing this historic core means preserving its architectural wisdom, supporting local crafts, encouraging cultural engagement, and restoring its connection to the river and community life. Only by doing so can Downtown Srinagar regain its rightful place as the living soul of the city rather than a forgotten relic.

Still, hope lingers

Downtown does not need reinvention; it needs reclamation. What it calls for is careful rebooting and sensitive rebranding—without altering its soul. As we celebrate startups and innovation, we must also extend our hands to the artisans whose skills are fading in silence. Supporting them is not charity; it is continuity. Their survival ensures that Downtown remains a living heritage, not a museum of memories.

This walk was more than a tour; it was a reckoning. Before we promote, beautify, or commercialize, we must first own Downtown in its entirety—own it with responsibility, with respect, and with care. Its streets hold far more than what meets the eye. There is still so much to explore, so many stories waiting in shadowed corners, unheard and undocumented. But the first step is not grand or complicated. It is simple: to reconnect, to acknowledge, and to act.

On our way back, we hoped to end the day with Harisa—a winter delicacy that feels less like food and more like tradition. At Aali Kadal, the Harisa maker was already winding down, wrapping up his day and preparing for the next. We asked once, then again, and then a third time: “Harisa cha? Can we get Harisa?” His response came cold and final: “Waen gov warkaar pagah – Please come tomorrow.”

We walked away empty-handed, but not empty of feeling. What we carried with us instead was hope. Hope that lingers. Hope that binds. Hope that gives us a reason to return the next day—and to believe in a better tomorrow. Because Downtown is not a place we visit casually on Sundays. It is not a backdrop or a destination. It is a place that lives within us waiting to be acknowledged, waiting to be understood, waiting to be claimed again.

(To be Continued…)

Nazir Ganaie is an artist, filmmaker, and senior editor with Greater Kashmir.

The post A Walk Through Memory: Bridges, By-Lanes, and Belonging appeared first on Greater Kashmir.

What started as a personal lifeline, a young family in the United States longing for the familiar cadence of Kashmiri wedding songs — soon grew into Kasher Baeth, an unprecedented compilation of Kashmiri songs in Roman script. It was meant to fill a gap for her own children; instead, it illuminated a void for an entire community. Diaspora families, culture keepers, and even households within Kashmir found themselves turning to her work, rediscovering melodies they feared had slipped away forever. Then came Wanwun: An Anthology — a project propelled by urgency. The lyrical form once inseparable from Kashmiri weddings had faded so drastically that no formal archives remained: no manuscripts, no digital collections, not even reliable recordings. Wanwun, an art form carried for centuries by the voices of Kashmiri women, was dissolving into silence. Massodi refused to let that silence settle. She sought out mothers, grandmothers, neighbours, and friends and cultural linguists, gathering their remembered verses like precious fragments of a shared heritage. The result is a living archive that now moves across continents, preserving the soundscape of Kashmiri joy, ritual, and belonging in formats that can endure: books, digital platforms, and audio-visual records.

In this Sunday Special, in a candid conversation with Senior Editor Nazir Ganaie, Samina Massodi reflects on the genesis of her books, the emotional and cultural pulse of Wanwun, the women who safeguarded Kashmir’s oral traditions, and her mission to build a long-term archival home for Kashmiri music, ensuring that these voices, once at risk of fading, continue to echo for generations. Excerpts!

Greater Kashmir: What inspired you to write Wanwun?

Samina Masoodi: Before I begin, I would love for Greater Kashmir to spotlight both of my works — Kaesher Baeth, the repository of Kashmiri songs, as well as the new Wanwun book. While the Wanwun book is close to my heart, the Kashmiri song collection has been an even larger undertaking, and I hope readers get to enjoy and celebrate both.

The idea for compiling Kashmiri songs first took shape when I moved to the USA. Weddings here often lacked easy access to traditional Kashmiri songs, and I longed for something that could keep our cultural melodies alive at these joyous gatherings. What began as a personal effort soon grew into something much bigger. Kaesher Baeth spread like wildfire — embraced not just by the diaspora but by people in Kashmir as well.

Soon, I began receiving heartfelt requests for Kashmiri wanwun, so families could add an even more authentic cultural touch to their weddings. When I began searching for wanwun online, I was taken aback by how little existed — neither sing-along audio/videos nor proper written lyrics, just a handful of scattered short clips. That’s when it struck me: if nothing exists in Kashmiri or even in Roman script, then someone needs to act — quickly — before we lose this precious tradition.

So I took it upon myself to create an easy-to-read Wanwun book in Roman alphabet, mirroring the format of the Kashmiri song collection. My hope is that this book, like Kaesher Baeth, will help preserve our heritage and make it accessible to future generations — no matter where in the world they may be.

This was your second edition. How was the response to the first one?

The response to the first edition was nothing short of extraordinary. I had expected the Kashmiri diaspora to embrace it warmly—but what truly astonished me was seeing the book travel back home. Suddenly, videos and messages began pouring in from Kashmir itself, with families using my Wanwun book at weddings, voices rising in celebration over pages I had once agonized over. It was surreal, humbling, and deeply heartening to watch the tradition find its way full circle.

Was there a specific moment or experience that made you realize the need to preserve or reinterpret this traditional Kashmiri art form through literature?

I can’t pinpoint a single lightning-bolt moment, per se. It was more the accumulation of troubling signs I kept encountering. As I mentioned earlier, there were literally no online resources for Wanwun—zero lyrics, zero archives, zero trace of this centuries-old tradition anywhere. At the same time, I noticed an entire generation growing up without the ability to read, write, or even speak Kashmiri fluently.

Then came the weddings. Each time I attended one in Kashmir, I saw Wanwun being pushed aside outsourced to hired singers, or replaced altogether with Qawalis and DJs. It felt like watching a living art form quietly slip into oblivion.

That urgency—the fear that Wanwun might vanish in front of our eyes—is what compelled me to start this work immediately. I couldn’t let this cultural treasure fade without a fight.

The title Wanwun itself carries deep cultural and emotional symbolism. How do you perceive its role in shaping collective memory, especially among Kashmiri women?

Wanwun is the quintessential Kashmiri way of celebrating important events of our life through singing. Our Kashmiri culture, language, and heritage are the pillars that have shaped our beliefs, values and given us an enduring sense of connection and belonging to Kashmir, even for those who didn’t like wanwun growing up but now get teary eyed when they hear wanwun. By making Wanwun accessible to women, who are the primary singers, they rejoice in this shared identity. My hope is that these memories along with the wanwun book can be passed down to their children and grandchildren, thus ensuring the immortality of our cultural legacy.

In your writing and work, how do you navigate the delicate balance between preserving Kashmiri traditions and reimagining them for a contemporary audience?

For me, preserving the authenticity and soul of Kashmiri Wanwun was not just a passion; it was a responsibility, a way to ensure that this timeless tradition endures for generations to come. At the same time, I wanted to make Wanwun accessible to a contemporary, global audience, bringing its magic to people who may no longer speak, read, or write Kashmiri but connect with the universal language of emotion and celebration.

To achieve this, the lyrics were thoughtfully transcribed into an easy-to-read Roman script, allowing the melodies and words to resonate beyond linguistic boundaries. Complex or lesser-known Kashmiri terms were accompanied by their meanings, ensuring that no nuance or charm was lost. Each song was contextualized with a brief glimpse into the wedding rituals and moments it celebrates, giving users a richer understanding of its place in tradition.

In a modern twist, the entire collection was brought to life as a searchable online wiki and as an electronic Wanwun book, fully compatible with laptops, tablets, and mobile devices. By bridging heritage with technology, the spirit of Wanwun now thrives not only in the hearts of those who grew up with it but also in the imaginations of a global audience eager to discover its melody, meaning, and magic.

Who else contributed to the Wanwun? How is it taken among diaspora?

The Wanwun Huers—our cherished couplets—have been passed down through generations by word of mouth: from mothers, aunts, and grandmothers, to cousins, friends, and neighbors. Each recitation is a thread in the rich tapestry of Kashmiri oral tradition. Recently, one of the largest and most treasured collections came from Misra Begum, who painstakingly recited them to her 23-year-old granddaughter, Dr. Mahnoor Khan, fearing that these delicate words might vanish forever. In turn, Dr. Mahnoor entrusted me with this precious legacy, hoping I could help preserve it for future generations of Kashmiris.

This collection is now available as an online Google Doc—a searchable, collaborative wiki—designed not only to preserve our heritage but also to invite contributions from the wider community. It is a living, breathing project, evolving with each voice that joins in.

The response has been nothing short of astonishing. Kashmiris across the globe have embraced the book with joy and pride, sharing messages and videos of themselves reciting wanwun, connecting across continents through the power of our words. Each message, each video, is a testament to the enduring spirit of our culture.

My deepest hope is that our wanwun and our songs will outlive us, continuing to echo through generations, keeping alive the heart and soul of Kashmir long after we are gone.

As the co-producer of Songs of Paradise, what was your vision for the film? How did you aim to weave the story of music, identity, and loss into a cinematic experience?

As a Co-Producer for Songs of Paradise, my role was a unique blend of creative guidance and musical insight. Alongside Shafat, I immersed myself in reviewing the screenplay, screen tests, and auditions, offering feedback to ensure the story stayed true to its heart—a musically rich journey of a strong Kashmiri woman—while keeping its theatrical and entertaining spirit intact. I also spent a few days on set during production, an experience that was both inspiring and deeply educational, giving me a firsthand glimpse into bringing such a vibrant story to life.

Both Wanwun and Songs of Paradise seem to engage with themes of cultural preservation. Do you see your literary and filmic work as complementary forms of archiving a disappearing heritage?

Yes, they are complementary. The books provide a literal, written archive of lyrics (the text), while the film provides an emotional, visual, and auditory archive of the music and the stories behind it. Together, they offer a multi-faceted approach to preserving a heritage that is largely based on oral tradition, making it accessible through different mediums.

Much of Kashmiri oral tradition has been carried forward by women. How does your work engage with the idea of female voice, resilience, and storytelling within that tradition?

While most of the other genres of Kashmiri music…songs, chakar etc. have been passed from generation to generation by males except for occasional females likes Raj Begum, Hassina Begum, Kailash Mehra, Shameema Dev etc. However, contrary to that almost all of the wanwun is passed on from women of one generation to other. The wanwun is indeed a female-led art form weaving stories of love, resilience and power.

Kashmir has often been represented through certain fixed narratives in media and art. How do you, as a storyteller, navigate those external perceptions while remaining true to local nuance and authenticity?

My focus is primarily on preserving our Kashmiri songs and Wanwun and not let it be buried by modern pop singing generation. By compiling our timeless songs and wanwun, that were starting to accumulate the dust of time, I want to showcase our rich heritage, our beautiful customs and our rich traditions, that are uniquely Kashmiri.

Can you walk us through your creative process — from research to writing Wanwun, or from conceptualization to production in Songs of Paradise? How do you translate emotion and memory into artistic form?

As I have mentioned previously, For Wanwun and Kashmiri songs, the process began with a realization of absence (no online resources), followed by extensive personal outreach (watching videos, listening to audio one line at a time,calling family and friends) to gather lyrics line by line. This process is quite laborious and months/year-long process, requires multiple revisions, corrections, proof reading, layout revisions, meetings with experts that are involved in final formatting and book design.My goal is always to maintain the poetic integrity of the work and not make any changes to the original work, thus maintaining that childhood oral memory into a tangible, usable resource. For Songs of Paradise process also focus by all producers, writers and director was on appealing to modern audience without compromising on authenticity.

Kashmiri language and music hold layers of meaning that often get lost in translation. How do you approach the challenge of making your work accessible while retaining its linguistic and cultural soul?

As addressed above, the book is written using Roman alphabet (English) without changing the pronunciation and original writings, in order to retain the “soul” of the language. I try to include translations of difficult words to make comprehension easy without having to replace the original text. This approach allows readers to engage with the material in its “near” authentic form.

On a personal level, how has your engagement with Kashmiri music, oral tradition, and heritage shaped your sense of self, belonging, and identity as an artist?

A Kashmiri playwright once told me, “Kasher zabaan, saenen ahsaasan hinz khushboo”—the Kashmiri language carries the fragrance of our deepest emotions. That single line has stayed with me, and in many ways, it defines my journey.

Over the past decade, immersing myself in the writings of our legendary Kashmiri poets and scholars—and exploring soulful art forms like Sufiyan Musique, Chakar, Rouf, Gyawun, Wanwun, and so many others—has awakened something profound within me. It has nourished both my mind and spirit, reigniting my sense of belonging and strengthening my identity as a proud cultural ambassador of Kashmir. Today, I stand humbled and grateful that my work allows me to play even a small part in preserving and celebrating our shared Kashmiri heritage—keeping its fragrance alive for generations to come.

What’s next for you after Wanwun and Songs of Paradise? Are there upcoming projects, literary, cinematic, or cultural, that continue this dialogue between art, memory, and heritage?

What I’ve captured in my books is only the tip of the iceberg. Thousands of beautiful literary gems by Kashmiri scholars and poets are still waiting to be collected and preserved. Book wanwun and Kashmiri songbooks are ongoing projects, and I’m deeply involved in searching, compiling, and adding new pieces to our online repository.

I warmly invite our Kashmiri community of researchers, observers, literary persons to contribute by adding more works to the Google Doc version of the book on Kashmirisongs.com—let’s grow this treasure together for future generations.

I also plan to release side-by-side Kashmiri versions of these books. Many generous donors have already entrusted me with their grandmothers’ wanwun notebooks, and I will be scanning and sharing them on the website in their original form.

If time allows, I hope to explore more genres of Kashmiri music as well. I’ll keep you posted on everything that unfolds.

The post One Verse, One Voice, One Memory at a Time appeared first on Greater Kashmir.

Greater Kashmir: You were born and raised in Kashmir — what are your earliest memories of growing up there?

Tony Ashai: I was born in Ashai Kocha, Fateh Kadal and spent most of my childhood in Rajbagh. My earliest memories of Kashmir are deeply rooted in the warmth and vibrancy of a joint family, where life was always filled with the sounds of laughter, shared meals, and togetherness. I have fond memories of my time at Burn Hall School and later at SP College, where I completed my 11^th grade. Some of my most cherished moments include climbing the steps to Maqdoom Sahib shrine with my mother and spending quiet, reflective time at Naqshband Sahib with my father. One of my greatest joys was learning art at the School of Music & Fine Arts in Jawahar Nagar, where I went every day after school—it quickly became my favorite place to be.

How did the environment and culture of Kashmir shape your sense of aesthetics and design?

Kashmir has a rich and deeply rooted history of Sufism and art — whether in the intricate patterns of our shawls, the elegance of handwoven carpets, or the delicate mastery of woodcarving. I truly believe that art runs in our veins; it’s part of our cultural DNA. This heritage has undoubtedly shaped my own aesthetic sensibilities. I am convinced that Kashmiris have immense potential to thrive in the world of art, if only they are given the chance to pursue it. Sadly, the reality is that art often doesn’t offer financial stability in the early stages. As a result, many are forced to abandon it for purely economic reasons — and that, to me, is deeply heartbreaking.

When did you first realize you wanted to become an architect? Was there a particular moment or influence?

I was fortunate to have an art school located literally across the street from my house. As a child, I was curious and often wandered over to watch the students working on oil paintings and sculptures. I was immediately drawn to it and begged them to let me learn as well. Although I was too young to officially enroll, they allowed me to sit in the studio, where I would sketch and draw alongside them. Even then, I knew I wanted to become an artist. I must have been around 13 or 14 years old at the time. Looking back, I can confidently say that the School of Music and Fine Arts had a profound influence on me.

What values or lessons from your Kashmiri upbringing continue to guide your life and work today?

Kashmiris, in my experience, are inherently kind and creative people — artists at heart. Growing up in Kashmir, I witnessed a deep sense of unity among us. There was no place for hate or division based on faith; we were all simply Kashmiris. Our shared language and rich culture were the threads that held us together.

I continue to live by those values of tolerance, brotherhood, and non-violence. I do not judge anyone based on race, color, or religion. What I value most is integrity, hard work, and character.

This belief is reflected clearly in my professional life. Anyone who walks into my office will see a diverse team — individuals from all faiths, backgrounds, and cultures — working together with mutual respect and purpose.

Despite living abroad, you often speak fondly of Kashmir. How do you maintain your emotional and cultural connection to your homeland?

Although I have spent most of my life outside Kashmir, the essence of Kashmir continues to live within me. Every week in Los Angeles, I gather with my Kashmiri friends to speak our language, share traditional meals, and listen to the music that reminds us of home. The culture is so deeply rooted, so powerful in its presence, that even distance and time can’t diminish its hold. No matter where I go, I carry Kashmir with me—in memory, in spirit, and in heart. The bond I feel with my homeland is unshakable.

From Aziz to Tony, how did that happen?

When I migrated to the United States at the age of 20, my name was Aziz Ul-Hassan Ashai. While attending college, my classmates gave me the nickname “Tony” because I resembled Tony Montana, a character from a popular movie at the time. Later, when I became eligible for U.S. citizenship, I was given the option to choose the name under which I would be naturalized. I was 24 years old then, and without giving it much thought, I decided to officially adopt the name Tony Ashai. And that’s how I became Tony.

Tell us about your journey from Kashmir to the United States — how challenging was that transition, personally and professionally?

My journey from Kashmir to California is one that deserves a book of its own. Insha Allah, one day I will write it. But for now, let me say this—it was anything but easy.

In the beginning, life was incredibly tough. I was just a poor immigrant with a heavy accent that most Americans couldn’t understand. I realized early on that if I couldn’t communicate, I wouldn’t be able to find a job. So that became my first mission—improving my English and learning how to be understood. But the greatest challenge wasn’t language. It was overcoming my own prejudices and opening my mind to a new way of life. That transformation took time, humility, and deep inner work.

The first ten years were the hardest—endless struggle, no days off, not even on weekends. But I kept going, fueled by faith, purpose, and the belief that hard work never goes unnoticed.

And indeed, life has a way of rewarding perseverance. Today, I thank Allah every single day for the countless blessings He has poured into my life. Every hardship had a purpose, and every sacrifice was worth it.

How did your time studying architecture abroad shape your creative philosophy?

I completed my Master’s in Urban Design at the State University of New York under the mentorship of Professor Robert Shibley, widely regarded as the father of Master Planning. What began as a fortunate accident turned into a transformative journey, with Professor Shibley becoming a guiding influence in my academic and professional life. Under his guidance, I developed a deep understanding of the relationship between space planning and human behavior—an insight that continues to shape and inspire all my design work to this day.

You have designed across diverse geographies — from Dubai to Los Angeles, India to Pakistan. How do you adapt your vision to such different landscapes and cultures?

I believe in contextual design—the idea that the architecture of any building or city should be shaped by its surroundings. Context can take many forms: the existing built environment, local culture, or historical heritage. I strongly believe that cultural and historical influences should never be overlooked when designing a building or planning a city. This approach not only ensures that new developments feel authentic and grounded, but also allows me to design comfortably and confidently in any part of the world.

What would you say was the turning point in your architectural career?

A turning point in my career came in 2006, when I was invited to master plan a city near Dubai—Dubai Lifestyle City. This pivotal project opened the door to another major opportunity: the master planning of Tiger Woods Dubai. From there, my journey in large-scale urban development truly began—and the rest, as they say, is history.

Your designs are known for their boldness and modernity — what’s your design philosophy in one line?

My design philosophy is very simple. I am not designing for me but for the people who will live and work in my buildings.

You’ve been part of several high-profile projects globally. Which one holds the deepest meaning for you, and why?

Every project I undertake holds a special place in my heart and means the world to me. When I commit to a project, I become fully immersed in its creation. My work spans from designing individual buildings to master-planning entire cities. Whether it’s the largest Hilton hotel in Chad, Africa, the luxurious JW Marriott resort in Ras Al Khaimah, UAE, or the iconic Los Angeles Tower in California, each project carries a piece of my soul within it.

Your association with Bollywood mega star, Shahrukh Khan and cricket legend and former Prime Minister of Pakistan, Imran Khan hogged headlines for all the reasons. How was the experience personally and professionally?

As for Shah Rukh Khan and Imran Khan, they will always remain my friends—whether they are stars or prime ministers.

How do you balance innovation with cultural identity in your designs?

They have to go hand in hand. Both culture and innovation have to be balanced in any design. I have mastered that.

Sustainability is now central to architecture — how does it figure in your work?

Sustainable design is a fundamental aspect of my buildings. By utilizing local materials and incorporating energy-efficient solutions, I ensure that each project meets global green building standards.

If you were to design a landmark project in Kashmir, what would it look like? What emotions or ideas would you want it to evoke?

Kashmir holds a deeply rich context, encompassing everything from its unique topography to its vibrant cultural heritage. If I were to design a building or even a city in Kashmir, my foremost priority would be to create something inherently Kashmiri—something that resonates with the region’s natural beauty and cultural identity, rather than an alien structure that disrupts its essence.

Recently, I was invited by an Indian business house to design a large hotel development in Kashmir. However, I had to respectfully decline the opportunity. At this stage of my career, my commitments are focused exclusively on projects within the USA and the Middle East. In fact, my schedule is fully booked for the next five years, leaving no room for additional engagements.

That said, if I ever do have the chance to design in Kashmir, it would be a project of great significance to the local people, driven by purpose rather than commercial interest.

You often reach out to the Kashmiri youth through social media — what motivates you to engage so actively?

Kashmir’s youth hold a very special place in my heart. It pains me deeply to see how desperate so many of them are for employment. Every day, I receive countless messages on my social media from young Kashmiris simply asking for a job. All I can offer them is hope — hope that if a Kashmiri kid like Aziz Ashai, born and raised in Fateh Kadal downtown, can rise above the challenges and make something meaningful of his life, then they can too. This belief is what keeps me motivated every day. I truly feel for each one of them, but it’s just not possible for me to respond to everyone. If I reply to one, I’d feel obligated to reply to all and I just want to tell them please go ahead and make something meaningful to yourself and your family. I want everyone to know that I do see your messages, and I deeply understand the struggle. It’s not that I’m ignoring you — it’s just that I feel helpless when it comes to employment opportunities. I genuinely wish I could do more to help.

What advice would you give to young Kashmiri creative architects who dream of working globally but staying rooted locally?

My advice …laughs! Believe in your dreams, for dreams do come true when you work hard. Never let hatred take root in your heart—hate is like a cancer that will only hold you back. Stand up for what you believe in and argue passionately, but always stay away from violence. Respect your parents, for their love for you is unconditional and unwavering.

How do you see architecture contributing to the rebuilding of Kashmir — not just physically, but emotionally and culturally?

Architecture plays a crucial role in shaping the environment, just as the environment profoundly influences the development of societies. Unfortunately, Srinagar city has diverged significantly from the principles of thoughtful and responsible architecture. I urge local architects to delve deeply into the rich history of the region, embrace the use of indigenous materials, and prioritize the preservation of the environment. By doing so, they can create spaces that honor both cultural heritage and ecological balance.

You’ve been outspoken on issues related to Kashmir. How do you balance your professional identity with your personal convictions?

I am outspoken on every issue because I have no filter. Those who know me understand that I mean no harm to anyone—not even to those who may wish me harm. I make a clear distinction between my profession and my personal views. My profession is sacred to me, and I treat every client with the utmost respect, regardless of who they are. My social opinions are my own and remain separate from my professional responsibilities. At least, that is how I choose to see it.

What do you think the global community misunderstands most about Kashmir and its people?

I don’t think the global community truly thinks about or cares for Kashmir or Kashmiris. Once you leave Kashmir and travel abroad, you realize how insignificant and irrelevant we Kashmiris appear to the rest of the world.

Looking ahead, what is your hope for Kashmir — both as a native son and as a global citizen?

I hope that one day peace prevails in Kashmir—a place where commerce flourishes and Kashmiri children can live their lives to the fullest, free from fear and violence.

The post CULTURAL NOTES: ‘I carry Kashmir with me—in memory, in spirit, and in heart’ appeared first on Greater Kashmir.

In an exclusive interview with Greater Kashmir, Shekhawat said that while the Union Territory has witnessed an unprecedented boom in tourist arrivals, the recent Pahalgam attack temporarily dampened visitor confidence. “We have seen a tremendous tourist influx in Kashmir. However, post-Pahalgam attack, the arrivals got hugely affected. Now is the time to rebuild that confidence and move towards decentralisation,” the minister said. He underscored the need to diversify tourism beyond the traditional hotspots of Gulmarg, Pahalgam, and Sonamarg, and bring lesser-known destinations to the forefront.

“We need to take tourists out of just the three main circuits and introduce them to offbeat destinations across Kashmir,” he said. “This will not only distribute the economic benefits more evenly but also protect the fragile ecology of the overburdened sites.”

Shekhawat revealed that the Government of India, in collaboration with the J&K administration and the World Bank, is working on a comprehensive tourism decentralisation plan. “A robust mechanism is being designed to include unexplored destinations into the tourism map. These new destinations will give a fresh identity and renewed vitality to Kashmir’s tourism,” he said.

The minister disclosed that several film production houses have approached the government to shoot their entire projects in Kashmir, calling it a “positive signal for revival.”

“Before the Pahalgam incident, I used to find it difficult to arrange accommodation for friends there — it was that crowded. But the situation changed after the attack. Tourists got frightened. Now, we must collectively change that environment of fear,” Shekhawat said, adding that cinematic tourism could play a key role in transforming the region’s image globally.”

Highlighting the synergy between tourism, culture, and economy, Shekhawat said that Kashmir’s culinary traditions, particularly Wazwan, need aggressive promotion to attract high-end domestic and international visitors. “Kashmiri cuisine, especially Wazwan, is world-famous. If we market it properly, it will become a major attraction in itself,” he said. “Alongside, culture-based tourism — including Sufiyana music, folk arts, and handicrafts can help us bring a new class of visitors to the Valley.” The minister emphasised that the participation at all the levels including major stakeholders from the society and private sector collaboration were key to ensuring that tourism translates into long-term prosperity.

“When tourism grows, employment grows, opportunities grow, peace and prosperity follow. That’s how tourism contributes to internal peace and social harmony,” he remarked. Expressing optimism about Kashmir’s future, Shekhawat praised the youth of Jammu and Kashmir for their ambition. “I am truly happy to see Kashmiri youth coming forward, taking challenges head-on, and competing at national and international platforms. This is a matter of pride for the entire country,” he said. With an ambitious roadmap that connects tourism, culture, cuisine, and creativity, the Union Minister said the Centre is determined to help Jammu and Kashmir emerge as a sustainable, year-round global tourism destination, one that balances development, ecology, and local empowerment.

The post Time for decentralising Kashmir’s tourism influx: Union Minister Shekhawat appeared first on Greater Kashmir.

Speaking to GKTV, Aga Muntazir said Budgam has suffered systematic exclusion under successive NC regimes. “For decades, Budgam has been deliberately pushed to the margins,” he said. “The NC leadership has always treated our people as second-class citizens, depriving us of our rightful share in progress.”

The PDP leader went further, accusing the NC of “dehumanising” Budgam’s population and ignoring its proximity and potential.

“Budgam is the closest district to Srinagar, yet it remains the most neglected, and the reason is NC,” he charged. “They have ruled for decades. What have they done here? Everyone knows the answer.” While refraining from commenting directly on the role of NC’s Srinagar MP, Aga Muntazir cited past instances of “abandonment” by the party’s top brass.

“The classic case of dehumanisation was when then Chief Minister Omar Abdullah chose to turn away, shunning all responsibilities,” he said.

Calling the upcoming Budgam by-election a symbolic battle, Aga Muntazir framed it as a “people versus power” contest.

“This election isn’t just between PDP and NC,” he said. “It’s between the people of Jammu and Kashmir and the politics of neglect. The verdict from Budgam will shape the region’s political future.”

He said his campaign is anchored in a “manifesto of reconnection”, pledging to bridge the gap between governance and grassroots voices.

“We are fighting to reconnect the people with dignity, opportunity, and inclusive growth,” he asserted.

The post NC has always treated Budgam as second-class citizens: PDP’s Aga Muntazir appeared first on Greater Kashmir.

“Sufiyana music isn’t just a genre,” he tells Greater Kashmir’s Bethak programme, his tone measured, reverent. “It is a way of life — a bridge between the human and the divine.”

Welcome to the world of Sufiyana Mousiqi, Kashmir’s most hauntingly beautiful classical tradition — where each note is a whisper to the heavens, and each silence, a sacred pause. Once the lifeblood of Mehfils, royal durbars and sufi shrines, this centuries-old musical form carries the lyrical wisdom of Rumi, Khusro, Hafiz, and Khayyam — poets who wrote not for applause, but for awakening.

For centuries, Sufiyana Mousiqi — the classical music tradition of Kashmir — has been the valley’s most mystical art form. Rooted in the Persian maqam system, this deeply spiritual music was once the pride of royal courts and Sufi gatherings. Its lyrics, drawn from the works of poets like Rumi, Hafiz, Omar Khayyam, and Amir Khusro, evoke surrender, love, and divine unity. But today, the soulful cadences of Sufiyana are slowly fading from the Kashmiri soundscape. Only a few gharanas — traditional families of musicians — continue to keep the tradition alive. Among them, Ustad Yaqoob Sheikh stands as one of the last torchbearers.

“We perform this music only when light fades and dusk approaches,” Sheikh says softly, his eyes fixed on the strings of his santoor. “It is in those moments — between day and night — that the divine feels closest.”

A maestro of rare repute, Sheikh has mastered nearly 10 melodic modes across Persian, Urdu, Punjabi, and Kashmiri — a feat that places him among the finest living exponents of the form. Yet, his art now exists on the margins of a rapidly modernizing culture. Across the valley, the number of traditional Sufiyana practitioners has dwindled drastically. The few who remain are often caught between reverence and survival. Performances are rare, institutional support minimal, and audiences increasingly distracted by contemporary music and digital trends.

“We have been struggling to keep this traditional music alive,” he says. “While as the modern trends are daunting us to.” Shiekh’s young student Umar Farooq says, “Modern sounds are louder. But Sufiyana is our identity. Even if few of us remain, we will continue — because silence would be a greater loss.”

Cultural historians agree that the decline of Sufiyana Mousiqi represents more than the disappearance of an art form — it signals the erosion of an entire spiritual philosophy that once defined Kashmiri culture.

“If Sufiyana dies, a piece of Kashmir’s soul goes with it,” says a local music scholar. “It embodies centuries of mysticism, poetry, and devotion. These gharanas are not just musicians — they are living archives of history.”

Yet amid the uncertainty, there are glimmers of hope. A few young disciples, drawn by curiosity and reverence, have begun learning from the old masters. Their voices, though few, echo with quiet determination.

At a recent mehfil in Srinagar, under the soft glow of oil lamps, Ustad Yaqoob and his students performed before a small but spellbound audience. The air shimmered with the delicate interplay of santoor, saaz, and tabla — a rare moment of continuity in a fading tradition. When the final note lingered and dissolved into silence, Sheikh smiled faintly. “As long as one hand can play,” he said, “Sufiyana will not die.”

In those words lies both a lament and a promise — that the divine music of Kashmir, though fragile, still breathes through those who refuse to let it fade.

Would you like me to adapt this into a narration script version to match your short documentary “Sufiyana – The Last Notes of Mousiqi”, keeping the same tone but structured for voice-over and visuals?

Ustad Shikeh Muhammad Yaqoob of Qaleenbaaft gharana also expressed concern at what he described as government “faulty policies” and “step-motherly” treatment toward the preservation and promotion of Sufiyana music genre in Jammu and Kashmir.

“A lot of lip service is done. Nothing comes out concrete, There is no relief to us, not this genre of music (Sufiyana music)” award-winning Sufiyana singer Sheikh Yaqoob, says.

“We have seen administrators in various art-centric forums and departments who don’t understand art and don’t have a vision for taking it ahead with the same passion. They don’t understand the nitty-gritty of art and culture. This really impacts the overall lifespan of any genre” he said, adding “Also, times have changed, and music is an evolving process. Youngsters aren’t much into literature. Classical forums of any art are facing tough times. In this situation, it was a responsibility of the visionary government functionaries who would have come forward and saved these genres during difficult times.”.

Shiekh further said that during major promotional events happening in Kashmir, authorities don’t prefer to include Sufiyanamusic in their itinerary.

“Authorities have adopted an indifferent approach towards Sufiyana Mausiqi. This is a rich musical genre that has been part of Kashmir’s musical legacy for centuries now. However, a handful of artists are left now who have been aiming to preserve this genre of music at their personal level,” he said, adding “Preserving Sufiyana needs a holistic policy paperwork, deliberations with the stakeholders, artists and also promotional stunt and concerts at the government level.”

Pertinently, Sufiyana music is a centuries-old traditional form of music in which musicians (Sazandar) sing the song and at the same time play an instrument. The musical instruments used in this genre include Saz-e-Kashmir, Sehtaar, Santoor and Tabla.

“The tradition of this music is day by day vanishing with the death of Ustads and no patronage from the government side,” Shiekh said. “

Only a few families in Kashmir currently practice this musical genre, whereas the maestros like Ustad Ghulam Muhammed Qaleenbaaf, Ustad Ghulam Muhammed Saaznawaz and Ustad Abdul Ghani Ganaie (Namtahali) contributed to impart to their family members and were/are practising artists.

The maestros inherited from their forefathers – the elite class of masters like Ramzan Joo, Sidh Joo, Abdullah Shah, Muhammed Abdullah Tibetbaqal and Qaleenbaaft– the art of Sufiana Mousiqee and devoted their lives to the art which unfortunately is dying due to public insensitivity.

“Not only this classical Kashmiri music (Sufiyana) genre but I think all the forms of music in Kashmir are on the verge of death—the reason being government apathy and our insensitivity toward the art and artists,” Valley’s popular vocalist and music composer, Waheed Jeelani said.

“Due to the lack of a state cultural policy, the government doesn’t have any plans to revive, promote or preserve the contribution of our legendary Sufiyana or the artists,” Jeelani said.

He also blames what he calls some of the highly “influenced authors and poets” who take money from the government or New Delhi in the name of “culture” and spend on their own activities known to them.

Under the reign of Sultan Zain ul Abidin (1420 1470), known locally as Budshah, this musical form began to flourish in what is today the Kashmir Valley. It blended indigenous Kashmiri elements with Central Asian and Persian influences, giving birth to a style at once local and cosmopolitan.

Imagine wooden havelis on the shores of Dal Lake, shikaras gliding past and the sound of santoor rippling across water. The shrines of saints resonated with hymns. The valley, once described as “Paradise on Earth”, had a soundtrack to match.

‘Notes on the brink’

Across the valley, however, the number of practitioners has dwindled drastically. The few who remain are often caught between reverence and survival. Performances are rare, institutional support minimal, and audiences increasingly distracted by contemporary music and digital trends.

One young student under Sheikh’s guidance says: “Modern sounds are louder. But Sufiana is our identity. Even if few of us remain, we will continue — because silence would be a greater loss.”

Cultural historians agree: the decline of Sufiana Mousiqi represents more than the disappearance of an artform — it signals the erosion of an entire spiritual philosophy that once defined Kashmiri culture. “If Sufiana dies, a piece of Kashmir’s soul goes with it,” says a local music scholar. “It embodies centuries of mysticism, poetry, and devotion. These gharanas are not just musicians — they are living archives of history.” The precarious statistics are telling: Today only three or so master musicians remain actively performing under Sufiana Mousiqi, and many of the maqams and talas of the past are lost forever.

Sufiyana Mousiqi, the classical Sufi music of Kashmir, once soared like a mystical wind through the high valleys and courtly halls of the region. Rooted in Persian musical traditions and enriched by centuries of spiritual poetry and local artistry, this genre is more than just music—it is a meditative journey, a form of devotion, a living history of the mystical soul of Kashmir.

But today, Sufiyana stands at a delicate crossroads. The dulcet strains of the santoor, the intricate rhythms of lost taals, and the poetic beauty of Persian ghazals and Kashmiri nazms are growing fainter, as if being drowned out by the noise of a fast-changing world. Why has this once-revered tradition, so deeply woven into the spiritual and cultural tapestry of Kashmir, come to teeter on the edge of extinction?

‘Loss of Patronage’

Sufiyana thrived under the generous wings of royal patronage. The sultans of Kashmir, the Mughal emperors, and later the Dogra rulers saw in it not just music, but a reflection of divine beauty and philosophical depth. The royal courts were its nurseries, offering institutional support and societal esteem to its practitioners. However, with the dissolution of princely states and the slow death of courtly culture post-independence, these support structures crumbled. The custodians of this tradition—often hereditary musicians—were left with little but fading memories and neglected instruments. “Art without sustenance is a fragile flame. As modern economies placed increasing value on marketable skills and steady incomes,” says another Sufiyana Music maestro, Shabir Ahmad Saznawaz. “Sufiyana struggled to justify itself in the lives of the young. With no regular venues, state support, or guaranteed livelihood, families who once proudly passed the tradition down now caution their children against pursuing it. “Why risk poverty for a dying art?” becomes the refrain. Without a viable future, Sufiyana has lost generations of potential disciples.”

‘When Tradition Isn’t Trendy’

In the age of digital playlists and global pop icons, Sufiyana, with its slow tempos and spiritual themes, struggles to find an audience. Bollywood, hip-hop, EDM, and global fusion dominate the ears of the youth, pushing Sufi classical forms into the shadows. The meditative, introspective essence of Sufiyana—once its greatest strength—now feels distant from the instant-gratification demands of contemporary music consumers.

Kashmir’s long years of political unrest, curfews, and militarization left deep scars on every facet of life, including its cultural traditions. The mehfils—those intimate musical gatherings so central to Sufiyana—were disrupted, discouraged, or disappeared altogether. Institutions that once preserved and taught the art closed their doors or shifted focus. Public spaces where the music once echoed became silent under the weight of fear and unrest.

Sufiyana’s poetic texts are often in Persian or in older Kashmiri dialects, which are increasingly alien to the younger generation. As Persian recedes from public consciousness and classical Kashmiri fades, the ability to truly feel the lyrics—a critical part of Sufi music—is lost. Without comprehension, the music’s spiritual resonance weakens, and what remains can seem obscure, archaic, or simply irrelevant.

Disappearing Instruments

Instruments like the saaz-e-Kashmir, once central to Sufiyana, are now nearly extinct. Specific rhythms (taals) and melodic modes (maqams) have fallen out of practice. Without these, the very architecture of the music collapses. As one academic poignantly notes, Sufiyana is “the classical Sufi ensemble music of the Kashmir region … currently on the brink of extinction.” The fading of Sufiyana is not just the loss of a musical genre—it is the erosion of a centuries-old spiritual dialogue, a mode of healing, a bridge between cultures and eras. It is a silent testimony to the richness of Kashmir’s syncretic heritage—where mysticism, poetry, and music met in sublime harmony. To lose Sufiyana is to lose a part of the soul of Kashmir.

The Revival Project 

Revival is possible, but it requires intentional, sustained efforts: The masters suggested that institutional support was vital. They said that music academies, cultural trusts, and universities must take up the cause. “Documentation and archiving is another important factor. Recording existing masters, styles, instruments, and lyrics, also the modern adaptation: Carefully blending Sufiyana with contemporary styles to make it accessible.” They said, “Offering scholarships, stipends, and professional pathways to students and reviving interest in Persian and classical Kashmiri through music education is another important factor,” he says.

In an era of speed and spectacle, Sufiyana reminds us of slowness, of reflection, of divinity. It asks not for applause, but for stillness. Perhaps that’s why it fades. But perhaps, too, in a world increasingly hungry for meaning, it can be reborn—not as a relic of the past, but as a refuge for the soul.

In one modest mehfil room, Ustad Sheikh sits amongst his students. One by one they take their place, santoor on lap, tabla beside, saaz e Kashmir ready. He begins a Shakal in Maqam “Rast” — the strings hum, the rhythm folds, the poetry surfaces. Eyes closed, the listeners lean back. After the prelude comes the Nasr: a short poem, the words hovering, then the first Bath verse unfolds.

At the end, there is silence — not a break, but a full stop. Then the audience exhales.

“As long as one hand can play,” Ustad Sheikh says quietly, “Sufiana will not die.” In those words lies both lament and promise.

Signs of revival

Yet amid the uncertainty, glimmers of hope exist.

One such is the all female ensemble from Bandipora district in the valley, called “Yemberzal” (named after the daffodil flower that blooms in spring) — led by young women determined to reclaim this heritage. Another hopeful sign: the inclusion of Sufiana Mousiqi study programs at the University of Kashmir’s Department of Music and Fine Arts. Though small in number, the students are serious. These are small circles, but they carry purpose. The values underpinning Sufiana — devotion, introspection, tradition, craft, community — still resonate. This music is not just aesthetic. It is cultural, spiritual, and historical. Through its chords runs:

Mystical heritage: The Sufi tradition emphasises the inward, the silent, the communal. Sufiana Mousiqi wasn’t just entertainment; it was a path to transcendence.

Musical hybridity: The valley sits at the confluence of Sub continental, Persian, Central Asian impulses. Sufiana Mousiqi is proof of Kashmir’s unique cultural synthesis.

Gharana lineages: These are not casual bands. They are families, lineages, teachers passing to pupils — the human chains of tradition.

Intangible cultural heritage: The tunes, the modes, the texts, the instruments — all form part of a living archive of Kashmir’s identity.

When one of its few remaining maestros laments “no relief to us… not this genre of music,” he is speaking of more than a failing art. He is speaking of a community’s soul.

“Preservation requires more than goodwill,” academic and music composer, Prof Muzafar Ahmad Bhat, says. “Making Sufiana Mousiqi accessible in schools and colleges, exposing young people early to its beauty.”

“Providing scholarships and employment opportunities so that young practitioners can survive economically. Documenting the many maqams and talas that are being forgotten — it is estimated that only about 30-35 of once many hundred are now known. Encouraging public mehfils and performances to re-establish a listening culture.” Integration with modern media: recordings, digital platforms, collaborations — to widen the audience while retaining integrity.”

He says governmental recognition and cultural policies with vision and resources, rather than lip service.

Ustad Sheikh Yaqoob, however, is critical about it, saying that: “In major promotional events … authorities don’t prefer to include Sufiyana music in their itinerary.” The message is loud: passion alone cannot sustain a tradition. As the dusk deepens in Srinagar tonight, you might hear the faint echo of the santoor strings in the alleys around the old city. It is the trace of something older and rooted. Something that refuses to vanish entirely. In that trace is hope. A young student playing a santoor. A mehfil under oil lamp yellow. The memory of a maqam rising into the cold night air. In the final note, in the pause between notes, one can still hear the valley exhaling: “We remain.” If we choose to listen.

The post CULTURAL NOTES: A Valley Forgets its Song The Slow Death of Sufiyana Mousiqi appeared first on Greater Kashmir.

Speaking exclusively to Greater Kashmir during the GK Dialogue, Aga Mahmood struck a candid tone, acknowledging the “crisis of trust” in Budgam and admitting that decades of neglect have left the district on the fringes of development.

“Budgam has been largely neglected all these years. On the development front, the constituency lacks big time,” he said.

“People here feel politically orphaned, despite the fact that our party has held power. They have expectations, and they are questioning the system.”

The seasoned politician, who has represented Pattan (1987) and Beerwah (1996) constituencies and served as MLC till 2017, said the upcoming by-election poses a “biggest challenge” for the party to reconnect with disenchanted voters.

“It is going to be a tough battle,” he admitted. “We will reach out to people with a strong, development-driven manifesto. Budgam deserves better.”

Calling on influential party figure, Aga Ruhullah, to step forward, Mahmood said:

“Although I haven’t spoken to Ruhullah yet — he’s in Delhi, I will reach out to him. Woh party ka banda hai. He will definitely do whatever is right for us as a party.”

The remarks come amid visible strains within the NC, as Ruhullah has publicly expressed displeasure with Chief Minister Omar Abdullah’s “passive stand” on critical issues, particularly the reservation policy. Ruhullah recently said he would vote for the NC but not campaign unless the government makes its stance on the reservation report public.

The bypoll, scheduled for November 11, promises a multi-cornered contest with candidates from BJP, PDP, AIP, Apni Party, and several independents in the fray. However, the most closely watched battle is expected between Aga Mahmood (NC) and Aga Syed Muntazir Mehdi (PDP) — both from prominent clerical families of Budgam.

Muntazir, an advocate by profession, had lost to Omar Abdullah in the 2024 assembly elections by 18,000 votes. Omar’s subsequent resignation from the Budgam seat paved the way for this bypoll, where 1.26 lakh voters are expected to decide the future of one of Kashmir’s most politically symbolic constituencies.

With family ties, political legacies, and party rifts intertwining, Budgam’s bypoll is shaping up to be more than just an electoral contest — it’s turning into a test of loyalty, leadership, and legacy within Kashmir’s oldest political party.

Aga Syed Mahmood, who was also part of Peoples Democratic Party (PDP) as it’s senior Vice-president, while commenting on the former Chief Minister and PDP patron, Mufti Muhammad Sayeed, recalling him as “a great administrator, an astute politician, and an able governor.”

Reflecting on his time working alongside Mufti Sayeed, Mahmood said, “He knew how to govern. The moment he decided to take any decision, he would stand by it and ensure its execution. I truly enjoyed working with him.”

The post Woh party ka banda hai: Aga Mahmood on Ruhullah as Budgam battle heats up appeared first on Greater Kashmir.

In a freewheeling and candid conversation with Greater Kashmir, Senior Editor, Nazir Ganaie, sits down with entrepreneur, globetrotter, and now film producer, Shafat Qazi, whose latest released film, Songs of Paradise, marks a deeply personal and cultural milestone. Known for his pioneering role in the American tech landscape as the founder of BQE Software, Qazi has spent over three decades building intelligent systems that power professional services. But his latest passion project takes a different route — one that winds through memory, music, and the mountains of Kashmir.

With roots firmly planted in both innovation and identity, Qazi opens up about what inspired his transition from boardrooms to backlots, from building businesses to producing films that speak to the heart of cultural resilience. In this exclusive interview, he shares how entrepreneurship equipped him for storytelling, why travel fuels his creativity, and how Songs of Paradise, a tribute to the legendary Raj Begum became his cinematic love letter to Kashmir.

Here’s an excerpt from the conversation.

Greater Kashmir (GK) Tell us about yourself and the kind of projects you’re involved in the United States—both in business and entertainment.

Shafat Qazi (SQ): I’ve spent most of my life so far in building technology businesses in the United States, most notably as the founder and CEO of BQE Software, a company that offers intelligent business management platforms for professional service industry. My entrepreneurial journey started from my college days and has always been guided by my curiosity and fueled by my passion.

In recent years, I’ve expanded that passion into film and music production, focusing on stories that reflect our cultural identity and its preservation. Besides building software and producing films, I’m also deeply committed to travelling around the world. So far, I’ve visited 85 countries, with a goal of reaching 100 by 2027. Every time I travel to a new country, I feel like I earned a degree in life. It helps me understand how our thinking, values and cultural identity are shaped by our surroundings, our community, where we were raised and educated.   

Greater Kashmir: As someone who has successfully built businesses in the US, what inspired your transition into film production?

Shafat Qazi: Storytelling has always been at the heart of entrepreneurship. Building a company and producing a film both begin with a vision, discipline, ability to execute and a belief that something useful and meaningful deserves to be made. My transition into film was a bucket list item of mine for many years driven by my love for films. After I stepped down as the CEO, I shifted my energy in working on my bucket list which included this film.

Greater Kashmir: How do your entrepreneurial skills influence your approach to filmmaking, especially when dealing with stories from Kashmir?

Shafat Qazi: Entrepreneurship teaches discipline, clarity and teamwork, qualities essential for any large project, especially filmmaking. My leadership skills that I have learned as a CEO helped me assemble and lead a brilliant team to make this masterpiece.  When dealing with Kashmiri stories, I approach them like I would a startup: with structure, empathy, respect and a global mindset. My goal was to create art that is emotionally true to Kashmir, yet universal in appeal.

On Songs of Paradise

Greater Kashmir: What was the core idea behind Songs of Paradise, and how did the concept come to life?

Shafat Qazi: The idea was born when our director Danish Renzu met Raj Begum in 2015 and he shared her life story with me. I had grown up listening to her voice, it was the soundtrack of Kashmir’s soul. Her courage, resilience and voice inspired me to bring this incredible story to the screen through Songs of Paradise. We wanted to celebrate the women who gave Kashmir its musical identity and shattered the glass ceiling in 1950s, when it was not acceptable for women to sing publicly.

Greater Kashmir: How was the character and story of Raj Begum chosen as the central theme of the film?

Shafat Qazi: I want to emphasize that the movie is not biopic. It was purely inspired by her songs and her life. Raj Begum’s life is symbolic of Kashmir’s artistic spirit. Her story was not just about music but about breaking barriers and believing in yourself. By centering the film on her struggles, we aimed to honor an entire generation of Kashmiri women who have paved the way for creative freedom.

Greater Kashmir: The film highlights music, but many local viewers expected it to also portray the political or conflict-laden history of that era. How do you respond to this feedback?

Shafat Qazi: That’s a fair expectation and I respect that. Our goal was different. Songs of Paradise is not a political film; it’s a human story about an ordinary woman and her artistic aspirations. These stories are inspirational to our future generation and critical for our cultural preservation and our identity.

Greater Kashmir: How did you approach balancing artistic storytelling with the responsibility of representing Kashmiri culture and history?

Shafat Qazi: We approached it with deep respect. Every visual, costume, and musical note was carefully researched to stay as authentic as possible. At the same time, we ensured the narrative remained emotionally accessible to a global audience. Our goal was not just to showcase our culture, but to make us all feel proud of it.

Greater Kashmir: What were the biggest challenges you faced while making a film rooted in Kashmiri identity?

Shafat Qazi: Finding the right balance between fiction and realism. About logistics, there were many challenges. The availability of the right equipment, shooting in Kashmir, working around the weather and limited local resources, all that while maintaining international production standards, were immense.

‘Language and Representation’

Greater Kashmir: Kashmir has rich cinematic potential but limited local output. Why was Songs of Paradise not made in the Kashmiri language, especially considering the global success of regional cinema like Iranian films?

Shafat Qazi: That was a conscious decision. To reach a global audience, we had to make the film in a language accessible to a broader viewership. The intent was to open a global window into Kashmiri culture. The Kashmiri dialogues and songs have already raised awareness and curiosity about our language worldwide.

Greater Kashmir: Do you believe films in native languages can reach global audiences without compromising authenticity?

Shafat Qazi: Absolutely! Language is never a barrier, it’s a bridge. Global success depends on powerful storytelling that resonates across the world. A Kashmiri film with honesty and cinematic excellence can travel anywhere and win global awards. The world is ready to watch.

Greater Kashmir: How do you see your film contributing to the preservation or revival of Kashmiri cultural identity, especially its music?

Shafat Qazi: Songs of Paradise is both a tribute and a reminder, that Kashmir’s cultural identity is rich, layered, and worth preserving. I hope the film sparks renewed appreciation for our traditional music, language, and artistry. In fact, the impact is already visible in our kids who are performing to these songs and proudly wearing their Kashmiri pherans to their school events.

‘Future Projects and Vision’

Greater Kashmir: Are you currently working on any other film scripts or media projects involving Kashmir or the broader South Asian diaspora?

Shafat Qazi: I’m currently involved in several projects, spanning films, documentaries, and digital content that showcases Kashmiri culture, music, arts and language. Stay tuned for several exciting projects designed to bring these stories to global platforms.

Greater Kashmir: What themes or stories do you think are still untold from Kashmir that you’d like to see on screen?

Shafat Qazi: Kashmir has a rich history going back several centuries. There are many stories from Kashmir that the world will appreciate if presented professionally.

Greater Kashmir: Would you consider collaborating with local Kashmiri filmmakers or training new talent from the region?

Shafat Qazi: I would love to! Collaboration is central to success of such projects. I want to empower local filmmakers, musicians, and writers with the tools, technology, mentorship, and exposure they deserve. Talent from Kashmir has the potential to shine globally, it just needs the support of right people and platforms.

Greater Kashmir: Looking ahead, what’s your long-term vision for combining entrepreneurship with storytelling, particularly stories from underrepresented communities like Kashmir?

Shafat Qazi: My vision is to merge innovation with technology and use films and media as instruments for cultural awareness and preservation. Entrepreneurship has taught me discipline, financial modeling and scalability; storytelling adds soul to that. Together, they can amplify the voices of underrepresented communities and ensure that stories like those from Kashmir don’t just survive, they thrive globally.

The post From Code to Cinema appeared first on Greater Kashmir.

DBD empowers students with unprecedented freedom to design their curriculum for a particular degree program. Students can choose from a wide array of courses offered by their university, with the flexibility to include courses from other universities, both offline and online, where Memorandums of Understanding (MoUs) exist. The vision behind DBD also extends to include courses from international universities, thus broadening the scope and global relevance of Indian education. This model seeks to dismantle the rigid compartmentalization that has long characterized traditional education systems, where students are often compelled to follow predefined streams and course combinations, regardless of their interests. DBD also allows students to complete their degree at their own pace, freeing them from the constraints of a university-mandated timeframe. This flexibility enables students to pursue jobs, start businesses, or engage in other activities, returning to complete their studies at a time that suits them best.

Moreover, the DBD model has inspired further innovations such as the Sandwich Model for postgraduate programs and the Dual Degree Model for undergraduate and postgraduate programmes. These initiatives aim to streamline the educational process, increase student participation in their academic planning, and boost enrollment in higher education, which currently stands at only about 25% in India, compared to 60-80% in developed countries. Notably, these are not just theoretical concepts; SKUAST-K has already implemented these programmes, receiving tremendous response and appreciation from students.

In contrast, we have introduced the term “Degree by Default” to describe the current educational system, where students have limited or no choice in selecting their courses or curriculum.

This article delves into the brief description of both the systems.

Degree by Default we refer to a system of education where the courses and curriculum are pre-determined by the university’s syndicate or academic council. The students are compelled to suo-moto register the courses pre-approved in the scheme with no choice for them to change within a particular stream. Compartmentalization of the streams in the Degree by Default is also a bottleneck for students, not allowing them to select the courses from the diverse fields. For example a student from medical stream is not allowed to take a course in mathematics or humanities or accounts.

Similarly, a student from humanities is not allowed to take a course from among the courses under the science stream. This has created compartmentalization of the education system and the most important stakeholders of the system, the students, are deprived of the choice to choose what courses they are interested to learn. This prompted us to call it, Degree by Default and include all such programmes in Higher Education domain which operates on this principle and mechanism of rigidity.

The evaluation system based on rote learning rather than the cognitive, critical and creative thinking, hinders further the flow of learning in this system.

Cognitive and critical thinking and learning outcome based examination evaluation as an integral component of DBD, presently is a difficult transition for the teachers as they are not accustomed to holding this pattern of examination. They need to work harder for a deeper understanding of their subject matter, be akin to changing paradigms and inculcate creativity for developing the resource for such a type of evaluation system. In the changing landscape of education, the role of a teacher for offline classroom teaching has become more difficult and challenging due to booming information technology. The teachers need to change their approach to teaching and learning pedagogy, be dynamic to accommodate fast changing horizons and landscape of knowledge and be swift in adopting new educational tools, technologies and concepts. Unwillingness to change may pose difficulties for them to retain students in the classroom in spite of the stick of compulsory attendance without a carrot of flexibility and mentorship.

These challenges, we too have experienced in our agricultural education system and has been inflicting the learning outcomes. The graduates thus produced out of the present setup of Degree by Default, are neither farmers nor the experts with better and modern skill sets and poor in creative thinking. The experts produced after post-graduation degrees lack the practical exposure and thus approach to problem solutions

The Birth of “Degree by Design”

SKUAST-K conceptualized a proposal for the NAHEP which was under the aegis of the Indian Council of Agricultural Research (ICAR), New Delhi, with funding from the World Bank in 2018. The proposal aimed to develop a model education system for Indian agriculture, centered on a dynamic knowledge ecosystem that integrates research, innovation, technology, and entrepreneurship. The goal was to promote a startup culture among students and faculty in state agricultural universities, fostering a seamless flow of knowledge, ideas, and technologies, and building organic linkages among stakeholders.

The DBD concept originated from the project’s student-driven slogan, “DECIDE TO LEED,” which outlined several challenging action points:

1. Empowering students to design their curriculum, which required creating a conducive and enabling ecosystem where they could freely choose from a diverse range of materials and courses.
2. Establishing norms and regulations to permit such flexibility.
3. Sensitizing and educating faculty and academic administrators on the radical changes demanded by this new concept.
4. Encouraging students to move beyond traditional, monotonous courses and closed compartments, and instead, develop leadership skills, critical and creative thinking, innovation, and employability.

These action points were meticulously defined, and the project’s focus was sharpened, resulting in remarkable outcomes.

Interestingly, “DECIDE” stands for “Design your Exquisite Curriculum for Interdisciplinary Education” (Student’s Option),

while “LEED” stands for “Leadership, Entrepreneurship, Employment, Discovery” (University’s Ecosystem).

DBD and the New National Education Policy (NEP-2020)

The DBD initiative gained further momentum with the introduction of the New National Education Policy (NEP-2020) by the Union Cabinet, Government of India, on 29th July 2020. The NEP-2020 outlines a new vision for India’s education system, replacing the previous National Policy on Education, 1986. While a detailed discussion of the NEP-2020 is beyond the scope of this article, some key features of the policy given below, align perfectly with the principles of the DBD model:

1. Curriculum: A revised curriculum structure transitioning from a 10+2 system to a 5+3+3+4 system based on children’s cognitive development.
2. Teaching: An emphasis on nurturing students’ creative potential, promoting flexibility, multidisciplinary education, and critical thinking.
3. Evaluation: A focus on evaluating actual knowledge rather than rote learning, with less emphasis on high-stakes board exams.
4. Languages: Encouraging the use of the mother tongue as the medium of instruction until 5th grade, with no mandatory language requirements.
5. Other Features: Introducing research methodology in the final year of undergraduate courses, and offering the option to exit the course with a certificate or degree at different stages.

The NEP-2020 introduces reforms that emphasize flexibility, multidisciplinary education, and critical thinking, allowing students to customize their course selections to fit their needs, interests, and strengths. This aligns seamlessly with the DBD model, which facilitates students in choosing their curriculum, offering them the confidence and liberty to pursue their academic passions.

In the 21st century, quality higher education must aim to develop well-rounded, thoughtful, and creative individuals. It should empower students to delve deeply into specialized areas of interest, while also fostering character, ethical and constitutional values, intellectual curiosity, scientific temper, creativity, and a spirit of service. A robust higher education system should prepare students not only for meaningful careers but also for fulfilling and independent lives.

Farooq Ahmad Zaki Former Dean, Registrar and Project Planning and Monitoring officer and  Educational Consultant at SKUASTK, 

Nazir Ahmad Ganai, Vice Chancellor, SKUASTK,

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“Why do we need to make films? Why are films important historically? What should be done to revive and reinvent local and regional cinema? These are some of the concerns that ought to be addressed in the Film Policy,” noted cinematographer and chairman of Karnataka State Chalachitra Cultural Academy, Ashok Cashyap, told Greater Kashmir.

Cashyap, who has had a tremendous tenure of shooting some of his remarkable projects in Kashmir for Doordarshan during the 1980s, says that Kashmir has many things to offer to filmmakers. “It is a God’s own created set for the filmmakers. All you need to do is to pick up the camera and shoot your camera and shoot some interesting stories. I am sure, the end results will be stunningly amazing,” “Jammu and Kashmir’s government has taken measures to uplift film culture. However, I see it in a way that Kashmir has had an amazing relationship with Bollywood and people here were always cinema literate.

The reason for that is if you go back and see what kind of movies used to be screened in theatres, one can imagine and understand the cinema-going class here,” he recalled.

“Under the policy, the government must provide assistance to the local filmmakers which can then make an ecosystem of providing jobs to the bottom in this line,” he says, adding “You can only promote regional cinema by giving them the upper hand in the policy, not making them subsidiaries.”

Cashyap, who is currently in Kashmir, doing first-hand research and recce for his projects, says that he would explore options to take the majority of the crew from the region itself.

“Kashmir has some beautiful brains in cinema. We need to give them a chance to come forward and try their luck in doing the best films,” he hoped. Divulging into the policy draft, the J&K government is aiming to incentivise owners to reopen closed cinema halls, upgrade the existing ones and encourage the setting-up of multiplexes, besides offering a slew of subsidies to establish the UT as the first choice for filmmakers as a shooting destination.

Actor and director, Ayash Arif, while sharing his thoughts about the film policy told Greater Kashmir, that any policy for the welfare of the stakeholders is good. However, the stakeholders must always be kept in the loop for the greater success of the policies.

“While going through the draft of the Film Policy of other states, I must say that we surely can take a lot of benefit from our Policy. But all we need from the government is to handhold the local filmmakers and give a new lease of life to the regional cinema,” he maintained. “We have been requesting the government to constitute a committee and look out for the possibilities of floating Film Finance Corporation which can lend soft loans to the filmmakers amidst scarce avenues of corporate houses or financiers.”

Mumbai based-filmmaker from Chenab Valley in the Jammu region, Tariq Khan, appears to be disgruntled with what he calls as Government’s “lip services”. 

“It is merely an administrative strategy document that lacks vision for the promotion of the film industry. It is not a film policy but rather a secondary tourism policy,” he alleged.

“Ever since the document came into the public domain and the policy was implemented, we haven’t seen much happening in our favour. We don’t want unnecessary favours from the government. All we want is hassle-free services, single window clearances of our documents and also the hassle-free movement of our crew,” he demanded. “Jammu and Kashmir must give us a special provision to grow in bringing more and more films on the national platforms,” he says, adding “In times of OTTs and other platforms for the film release, our government must give us an upper hand so that we don’t have to beg for basic criteria.”

Notably, the Film Policy-2021 was approved by the Administrative Council led by Lieutenant Governor Manoj Sinha on August 5, 2021 and was launched with much fanfare in the presence of Bollywood actor Amir Khan and film-maker Raj Kumar Hirani besides others at SKICC.

As per an order issued by the then Principal Secretary J&K Department of Information and Public Relations, Rohit Kansal IAS, the policy sets the vision up till 2026, with the aim of maximising the potential of both the Jammu & Kashmir film servicing industry as well as the promising local film sector. “This policy will serve to transform Jammu & Kashmir into a unique film destination.” The policy strives to create a nationally competitive infrastructure in Jammu & Kashmir. It assures administrative assistance to ease filmmaking in the UT by setting up Single Window Cell to grant permission for shooting films, preferably within 2 to 4 weeks. Through this ambitious move, the government also plans to facilitate the overall growth of the J&K Film Industry by setting up of Jammu & Kashmir Film Development Council, J&K Film Division along with easy access to the “Website for Talent Pool” and other shooting destinations. Officials say that the aim of the Policy is to create a vibrant ecosystem for the film fraternity. The government will also set up signage boards with information related to the film to attract more tourists.

Spelling out the major objectives, Jammu and Kashmir’s Film policy aims at generating opportunities for job creation, attracting additional capital investment through the film industry and providing information about the most incredible, amazing and beautiful places across J&K. According to the policy draft, it would also act as the means to attract tourists through a location directory on the Single Window portal of all-weather locations in Jammu & Kashmir for the shooting of films and disseminate information about the art, culture, history, heritage, livelihood and glorious traditions of the UT.

“DIPR has done a tremendous job in easing out the process of film shooting permissions. Initially, the tourism department was full of clutter,” a senior Line Producer, wishing not to be named, says. 

“Promotion of regional cinema is the need of the hour. We have to take our calibre to the level of Iranian cinema and that will only come with good filmmakers from Kashmir,” he says. “We can become filmmakers by being passionate about it, then we will find a way to tell our stories. We shouldn’t be asking for help from the government for telling our stories. We rather do it loudly, professionally and passionately.”

Meanwhile, the officials say that in order to realise the objectives of J&K Film Policy, a Jammu & Kashmir Film Development Council (JKFDC) would be constituted, fully fledged. It shall be a separate vertical and act as a distinct agency to achieve the objectives of the Film Policy. They say that the Council would be a high-powered committee headed by a senior officer of the rank of Principal Secretary to the government and shall comprise besides other senior officers, eminent personalities of film-industry and others related to the industry. “J&K Film Division will be constituted under the Information and Public Relations Department for running the short, educational films made in J&K in the cinema houses and implementation of the Film Policy,” officials at DIPR’s film unit, say.

The Film Policy has accorded the status of Industry to the film sector in Jammu & Kashmir which shows a structural shift of the government towards it. A structure in the form of the Jammu and Kashmir Film Development Council (JKFDC) has been set up to look for all matters in the film sector—a move most filmmakers believe is still on the papers and not translated into reality. The policy has also employed existing institutions like EMMRC, the University of Kashmir, and FTII, Pune for offering their services, structures, and expertise in this realm.

The promising thing about the policy is that it envisages the setting up of film and drama schools in the UT to impart instructions and practical training in fine arts, acting, directing, and other crafts of filmmaking. 

According to experts, as the policy has converted the film sector into an industry, it is entitled to enjoy all the tax incentives, sops, and subsidies as provided in the new industrial policy in addition to those mentioned in the policy itself. 

“It is really great to see a new dawn in the filmmaking scenario in Jammu and Kashmir,” noted filmmaker and broadcaster, Pran Kishore, told Greater Kashmir. “Engaging local talents in films will set a new trend in UT and open new career opportunities for local talents,” he says.

Observers say that the re-opening of closed cinema halls, upgrading the existing ones, and encouraging the setting up of multiplexes by offering a slew of subsidies and tax incentives needs collaboration from civil society, the private sector, and NGOs to revive the entertainment industry across Jammu and Kashmir would bring new lease of life to the film sector.

Jammu and Kashmir government’s tourism department is working toward a greater goal and woo filmmakers to the valley. Officials inform that they have selected 300 destinations for promoting film tourism in the UT this year while G-20 will be the major international event and a great opportunity for J&K.

Talking to reporters on the sidelines of the inauguration of the first show of the newly released movie— ‘Welcome To Kashmir’, directed by Tariq Bhat, at Inox Cinema Srinagar, Secretary, Tourism and Department of Culture, Syed Abid Rasheed, informed that last year 200 plus movies were shot in J&K. “This year our focus is to promote film tourism and for that, we have kept 300 destinations on the table of film producers and directors to choose any place for shooting. For this our staff is providing hassle-free services to the stakeholders,” he says.

“This year, film tourism will be promoted in a major way so that many untouched destinations are explored. There are many destinations much better than European destinations across Jammu and Kashmir,” Shah says.

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this article are the personal opinions of the author.

The facts, analysis, assumptions and perspective appearing in the article do not reflect the views of GK.

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