My Pheran My Pride!

Dr Nasir Shamas 

My warm pheran with a Woolen base and dark woody stripes, having sufiana hues of dusky amber, faun and mountain grey to match the moods and seasons of my vale! Surely My Pride. 

On my pheran, miraculously! all mud, soot and dust never seemed a mismatch, but an effort to rhyme with nature, though soiled but not spoiled as with a single drubbing by my mother, the charm of the woven threads reappeared again.

My Pheran, an effective knee length covering, with two short side slits allowing me to run and catch all the kittens and chickens hiding behind the pine barks and the deodar lattices.

 Pheran of my Youth, always holding a weapon of mass destruction in harsh winters, Kangri within, but seldom used due to a tactical deterrence on all sides. Long before nuclear deals we had no first use policy for Kangri in our locality.

Pheran of my Maidens was made to resist all climatic intrusions of the chillai kalan with grace. Colors laced in turquoise and sapphire green bore all the glamour of the maidens. Embroided Almonds, twisted, curvy copper threads, depicted heritage and strength in one stroke of artistry. 

Pheran of my Women folk effectively shrunk to hold heat on all sides while turning spacious enough at the same time to hold warmth for their toddlers under their bosoms relaxing within.

Pheran was my Siblings game – With two heads projecting from one collar It possibly taught us both the right way to keep heads up and necks firm while manouvering through bottlenecks of the cloth and of later lives.

Pheran of my Juveniles with all dust of the season and dampness of my rivulets, were loaded with wooden balls and pebbles. Surely their pherans had a smart pocket then, with a native gaming zone ready to unfold anytime on meeting a rival nextdoor.

Pheran of my Artisan had a typical semi baked, burnt edge reflecting the struggles with the Kangri within and harsh winters outside. The deep pocket on the right side had all the fortunes he could gather while strolling back after toil. It was easy to find in, flaky sugar balls, coloured sugar sticks, half eaten apple, a pack of tobacco and a calpol strip. Enough to cater to everyones need back home.

Pheran of my Trader had all the signs of the future markets, with the rise the fall of those Shanghai YKK Zippers on their robes, the prophecies were there for us to decipher. We didn’t pay heed but so did the Americans. By trying to take out our arms through the fastened necklines to count currency they broke many clasplocks everyweek for our Elders to use their vintage pliers and fasten them.

Pheran of my Respected Patriarchs had a jute cloth underneath reflecting their aristocratic inner soul. That’s what they were, Earthy faces hard to crack, firm brown looking on the outside but soft white esteemed Safedposh inside.

And Pheran for my listless time traveller is a worthy shroud up to his secluded space.

Pheran of my Kashmir!

Is a Handwoven heritage!

Pheran of my Kashmir!

Is collective pride!

(Dr. Nasir Shamas is a Physician Consultant with J&K Health Services. A medical professional with a keen interest in literature and creative writing, he is also a founding member of the “Save Heart Initiative” in Kashmir. He has authored several books, including Snowflakes on the White Coat (microfiction) and Icicles on My Lamp Post: Vignettes of Kashmiri Life)