How Kashmiri oral tradition finds an emancipator in Hatim Tilwoeyn 

There are few heroes of cultural preservation as tall as Hatim Tilwoeyn, a simple farmer and professional storyteller from Panzil village of Ganderbal’s Sind Valley.

His name is not well recognised beyond academic communities, yet his role in the recording of Kashmiri folklore is monumental. Through the careful work of Sir Aurel Stein and Pandit Govind Koul, Hatim’s stories were written down and translated into what was published in 1923 for the Government of India as HATIM’S TALES: KASHMIRI STORIES AND SONGS.

This outstanding book presents readers with a glimpse of the rich oral heritage of Kashmir and also the glory of an ordinary mortal whose memory and eloquence infused warmth into the frigid atmosphere of the valley.

A living phonograph machine

Hatim Tilwoeyn was not a garrulous old man but a living chronicle of stories, songs, and linguistic finesses spanning centuries that had passed from generations of “Rawis” or reciters.

As remarked by Sir Aurel Stein in the book preface, Hatim’s capability to remember and recite these stories with unshakeable accuracy rendered him close to a “living phonographic machine.”

Encountered by Stein in the summer of 1896 at Mohand Marg, a solitary alpine camp far up the Sind Valley, Hatim was remarkable. Though completely illiterate, he was able to recite very long stories at different speeds, pronounce each word clearly, and repeat sections word for word after long periods without changing a word. Stein tells how Hatim would ascend daily to the mountain retreat, risking the cold and loneliness, in order to transmit his huge range of stories and songs.

Amongst the dozen stories documented were pearls such as Mahmud of Ghazni and the Fisherman, The Story of Raja Vikramaditya, and The Ballad of Forsyth Sahib.

Every story bore echoes of ancient sagacity, humour, romance, and moral values that had amused villagers for centuries. What hit both Stein and Pandit Govind Kaul hardest was Hatim’s convivial nature and passion for his art.

Despite the initial hesitation at the harsh environment, Hatim grew to enjoy the task, remaining for more than six weeks in Stein’s care. His presence turned the isolated mountain camp into a lively centre of storytelling.

A linguistic treasure trove

Aside from their literary value, Hatim’s stories are of immense worth to linguists and historians.

Sir George Grierson, who edited the work with translations, wordlists, and indexes, added weight to the distinction of this collection.

In the first place, it is a rare occurrence where a spoken dialect, here the village patois of Panzil, is contrasted with the standardised literary form of Kashmiri employed by Pandits.

Stein’s phonetic recordings give us a priceless snapshot of what the language sounded like when spoken by a clever villager uncorrupted by quasi-literary affectations or grammatical theory.  Furthermore, Hatim’s preservation of obsolete words and phrases attests to the loyalty with which oral traditions were kept.

On a visit in 1912, sixteen years after the first recordings, Stein discovered that Hatim’s recitals did not change even to include recondite words whose meanings had escaped him personally. Such steadiness says a lot about the strict training and discipline imparted to successive Rawi generations such that the crux of their heritage was never lost.

The art of storytelling

Storytelling has never been simply entertainment in Kashmiri society; it is a shared experience that promotes unity and retains collective memory.

Professional storytellers such as Hatim were an integral part of rural life, entertaining at weddings, festivals, and other celebrations. Their skill was not merely in telling stories but in incorporating them into the very fabric of daily life.

Hatim’s sharp pronunciation and active delivery drew listeners in, bringing intricate stories within reach even of those who did not have formal education. Sir William Crooke, who has added a note on the folk-lore of the stories, brings out the universal appeal of these stories.

Stories of love, loyalty, justice, and adventure find response across the board, but in these stories they are seasoned with local colors distinctive of Kashmir. Whether describing the exploits of the great kings or inventing fanciful tales about parrots and merchants, Hatim reflected the ethos of his country, a country whose ethos was marked by endurance, inventiveness, and profound respect for tradition.

Legacy of a humble soul

While Hatim Tilwoeyn ultimately retired from public storytelling as age and success overtook him, his legacy lives on through HATIM’S TALES. The book is a testament to the strength of oral traditions and the people who preserve them. It is also a reminder of the need to document intangible cultural heritage before it disappears into oblivion.

As we look back at Hatim’s work, we are reminded of the many unheralded heroes who have preserved the fire of storytelling generation after generation.

By keeping their voices alive, researchers such as Stein, Grierson, and Koul have made it possible for generations to come to continue drawing inspiration from the eternal wisdom contained in these stories. For anyone interested in comprehending the soul of Kashmir, HATIM’S TALES continues to be a crucial handbook, a repository of stories, songs, and humanity itself.

A reflection in timeless tales

Hatim Tilwoeyn’s story of the farmer’s wife and the honey-bee is a poignant look at pain, determination, and shared experiences of life.

Two existences—a runaway farmer’s wife and a bereaved honey-bee—cross paths in the desolation of a forest, each observing the other’s anguish. Their shared sorrow shows how short life is and how all living beings share their hardships.

The tale of Yusuf and Zulaikha, in Hatim’s tradition of masterful narratives, weaves together love, religion, and justice. Apart from its biblical origins, it is a lesson in patience and forgiveness, showing the austere moral code of Kashmiri society.

The Song of Lal Malik is a commentary on the impermanence of worldly existence, combining prophetic tales with the sombre reality that all worldly pursuits are transitory.

The Song of Forsyth Sahib is a satirical retelling of the Kashmiri perception in the area of Sir Douglas Forsyth’s mission to Kashgar in 1873-74, which was misunderstood as conquering Yarkand.

It was written by Sabir Oilman and captures the confusion and issues of villagers who were compelled to assist. Not knowing what was required of such an operation, they made do with whatever equipment they could get their hands on and haphazardly made plans, while craftspeople, labourers, and pregnant women were removed from their everyday lives.

Despite their confusion and issues, the repeated refrain of the line “Yarkand will we conquer for ourselves” can be heard throughout, intermingling humour with resolve. The poem reflects both the chaos caused by the mission and the resolve of common people attempting to cope with its demands.

In the tale of Raja Vikramaditya, A King tests five life lessons that he purchased for five hundred rupees. He acts as a beggar and visits his sister, his friend, and his wife to test their kinship, friendship, and loyalty.

His sister’s reluctance and his friend’s generosity reveal who they are. His wife’s treachery results in her losing everything. To test alertness, he kills a python that is troubling Raja Vikramaditya’s daughter and wins her love. When he comes back as a king, he punishes the wrongdoers, rewards loyalty, and reflects on human relationships. Through tests of trust and betrayal, the story points to significant truths about honesty, strength, and the pitfalls of human relationships, blending humor, wisdom, and moral lessons as in classic folklore tradition.

These age-old tales are not simply for their entertainment merit alone; they are also inspiring, thought-provoking, and educational—much like when Hatim Tilwoeyn first told them amidst Kashmir’s Sind Valley.