Mohammad Arfat Wani
There have been very few occasions throughout the ages when the written word has moved beyond the role of recalling events and actually turned into a sacred vessel of remembrance, revolution, and continuity of culture. Such literature has not only reflected the past; it has shaped the collective psyche of civilizations. While Abul Fazl compiled the Ain-i-Akbari, he was not merely collating facts on the Mughal Empire. He created a vibrant edifice of rule and culture, demonstrating the intellectual strength of his era.
When Al-Beruni traveled along the Indian subcontinent, his book Kitab fi Tahqiq ma l’il-Hind came to be a lasting record of cultural dialogue, presenting an unprecedented window into Indian philosophy and science with modesty and accuracy. And when Kalhana wrote Rajatarangini, he added to historical recounting poetry, spiritual depth, and human feeling, weaving a tapestry of Kashmiri past that lives through centuries. They were not professional chroniclers but visionaries by vocation. Their writings were acts of obligation issuing from the conviction that civilizations are lost not by conquest but by forgetting.
In our era, in the neglected creases of the Himalayas, amidst whispering jungles and concealed ridges of Jammu and Kashmir, another such voice has been heard. Sadaket Ali Malik, a boy of the land from the distant hills of Doda, has written not only a book but a cultural declaration. His book Bhalessa Cultural Heritage and History, brought out in 2021 by HSRA Publications (ISBN: 9789390415809), is a candle of remembrance and reclamation. In 164 pages, he has done what decades of neglect by the state and absence from academia could not. He has imparted identity, clarity, and dignity to Bhalessa. The book does not aim at fame through polemic. It does not scream. It breathes with sagacity, recalls with fidelity, and summons attention with the soothing authority of truth.
Bhalessa is not merely a place within the Doda district of Jammu and Kashmir. It is a cultural landscape made invisible in official discourses, overlooked by schoolbooks, and ignored by developmental imaginations. But in its silence there is a civilization. This land finds voice through the words of Sadaket. Not as relic or museum artifact, but as living, throbbing, changing part of India’s soul. Malik is no detached observer. He is Bhalessa’s witness, its chronicler, its champion. He brings not just scholarship but belonging. As a writer, teacher, social reformer, activist, he has the experience to combine narrative with the passion of justice and the elegance of perception.
The early chapters of the book describe Bhalessa’s geography, but this is not dry reportage. Each riverbed, hill, forest, and valley is given the status of a character in a sacred narrative. One does not learn about Bhalessa. One starts sensing it. Its tough landscape, previously considered peripheral, is presented as being at the heart of the resilience and rhythm of its people. Nature in Malik’s prose is alive. Not landscape, but lifeblood.
What ensues is a smooth and well-thought-out voyage through layers of time, society, and spirituality. The book moves with grace from historical roots to modern-day socio-political issues. It ventures into administrative frameworks, communal dynamics, and the evolving nature of education. It ventures into the forgotten and existing cultural heritage of the people — their music, language, customs, and conflicts. Malik does not simply chronicle. He crafts an experience. Every chapter succeeds the previous one with the narrative structure of a symphony where data intersects devotion and facts are contained in feeling.
Central to this work is Malik’s respect for the intellects and souls that were born in Bhalessa. The book is a literary shrine to the intellectuals, teachers, and religious leaders who defined the identity of the land in spite of its marginalization. From Prof Umar Din to Ghulam Rasool Azad, from Munshi Muhammad Anwar to Ghulam Nabi Azad, Malik brings to life their memories. Most touching is his obituary to Alhaj Ghulam Qadir Gani Puri (RA), that towering figure of spirituality whose life of learning and serving others becomes, in Malik’s words, a lighthouse in the fog of forgetfulness. The tone is earthy. Never holier-than-thou, always genuine.
Two chapters give a glimpse of Malik’s vision more than any other. The ones on tourism and education. Here, he dreams not with naivety but with rational reasoning. He asks the country to look at what has been overlooked for so long. The untouched beauty of Bhalessa’s peaks, meadows, and streams, which if nurtured, could improve its economy as well as self-esteem. But tourism in this context is not suggested as exploitation but invitation. A means of entering into conversation with an unrecollected beauty. Education, however, is presented not merely as upliftment but as defiance. In an area ravaged by state indifference, Malik demonstrates how schools have become bastions of hope and teachers — foot soldiers of dignity. His account in these pages is both a critique and a blueprint.
Malik’s methodology of digital preservation is an indicator of his deep consciousness of the shifting tides of memory. By creating a Wikipedia page and a separate website for Bhalessa, he has provided assurance that the legacy of his native land will not get lost in the ocean of unrecorded history. In this, he follows the line of thinkers who knew that in the 21st century, to be searchable is to be noticed and to be archived is to be remembered. His effort is momentous. The first such digital move by a native scholar for the region. It opens a new chapter in local historiography.
The book’s organization is natural but controlled. It has the rhythm of a mountain stream. Flowing, consistent, life-giving, but never stagnant. The style is neither abstruse nor naive. It spans the ordinary reader and the intellectual. Its strength is in clarity, not abstractions. The vocabulary is refined, the tone sympathetic, the message clear.
What remains longest in the reader’s mind, however, is the emotional undertone. Under each statistic, each footnote, each respectful profile is a grief. The sorrow of exclusion. But Malik never lets pain turn into resentment. He converts tears into determination and invisibility into vision. His affection for Bhalessa is not wistful. It is imperative. He knows that history, when forgotten, does not lie dormant — it perishes. And thus he writes not to conserve the past but to challenge the future.
By Malik’s hand, Bhalessa ceases to be a distant place and becomes an incandescent presence in the great tapestry of India. Its character is not merely defined by ritual but by the gentleness of its people, the interfaith tolerance that characterizes its roads, and the dignity with which its citizens live, labor, and aspire. Malik demonstrates that cultural pride, when based on respect and memory, is the corrective for marginalization.
This book is a necessity. It is in the hands of every historian student, every policymaker with a belief in inclusive politics, every teacher with a belief in silent revolutions, and every reader who has a belief that no corner of the world, however small, lacks greatness. It is not a regional book. It is a national imperative. It cries out not in loudness but in reason, telling us to remember, to rethink, and to rebuild.
Bhalessa Cultural Heritage and History is not a book. It is a radiant gift. It is the spark of an extinguished lamp relit by the hands of one who did not forget. Sadaket Ali Malik has given the region of Bhalessa not only a voice but a visionary. He has shown the world that one pen, inspired by duty and love, can stir the world awake. For this gift, he is not just worthy of recognition. He is worthy of reverence. Along with Al-Beruni, Abul Fazl, and Kalhana, his position is among those who remembered so that we would never forget.
(The author is a social activist, and medical student. He hails from Kuchmulla Tral and can be reached at [email protected])
