‘City as Memory’ by Sadaf Wani: Viewing Srinagar out of experience, and memory

Karan Mujoo

There are cities of concrete and asphalt, intersections and landmarks, traffic signals and roundabouts, main roads and small alleys, posh neighbourhoods and cramped slums; and then there are cities of the mind — personal cities that are shape-shifting landscapes; cities that are made not out of matter, but out of experience and memory.

In Sadaf Wani’s aptly titled ‘City as Memory’, Srinagar comes to life as a city of the mind. The descriptor of the book suggests it’s a short biography of Srinagar, but I would argue it is much more. Wani gives us a succinct history of Kashmir and its myriad social, economic, political and religious conflicts.

Her task, as she rightly states in the introduction, is complex. How does one attempt the biography of a whole city, which, by extension, is also the biography of a whole people? What must one exclude and include? Wani manages to accomplish this task with great skill, and more importantly, with searing intellectual honesty. She does not shy away from dealing with the insurgency or the Pandit question. In fact, some of the most moving parts of the book are her interactions with Neerja Mattoo and Vivek Raina.

Wani utilises academic frameworks such as Edmund Husserl’s ‘lifeworlds’ to tell the story of Srinagar and its residents. Her writing, though, never becomes pedagogical. On the contrary, it brims with clarity and emotion.

The first chapter offers a historical, cultural and civic account of Srinagar through the ages. It starts with the search for her great-grandmother’s grave, which leads her to Malkha graveyard. Wani is not able to find her grave, but does find a magnificent view of Haer Parbat. She cleverly uses this to pivot the narrative and give a wonderfully detailed account of the hill. This dance of intensely personal accounts and detailed factual information is a great strength of the book.

In the second chapter, her gaze rests on Shahr-e-khas (Downtown). Told in part through the eyes of her father, it is one of the most poignant parts of the book.

She writes, “As soon as we took the first left towards the Cement Bridge from Qamarwor, my father would assume the role of a city guide and a storyteller. Pointing at anything and everything that seemed significant for his stories or for our general knowledge of the city, he would start naming and contextualising the place for us.”

In Wani’s writing, Downtown also emerges as Ground Zero for violence. Gun-toting separatists and Army torture centres like PAPA 2, all make an appearance. She talks about the stereotypes associated with the residents and of Downtown’s image as a disturbed area.

The third chapter traces the neglect and then the development of the city’s civic infrastructure. How under various indifferent rulers, the populace suffered cholera epidemics, famines and devastating fires. And how things improved with the arrival of the British Resident. The second part of the chapter deals with identity and belonging.

Who is a shahri? Who is from a gaam? Who is a Shia? Who is a Sunni? Who

is originally from Downtown? Who is

an outsider? All these questions are probed and analysed with great empathy and tenderness.

The final chapter deals with the importance of public spaces. Excessive military presence and the threat of separatist violence have led to erosion of public spaces in Srinagar. Finding safe spaces for leisure and dating, especially for women, is difficult in a city where every action is monitored, both by the State and the patriarchy.

Wani manages to pack in detail and emotion in a slim volume. An assured debut.