By Rayees Ahmad Kumar
Manohar Shyam Joshi, a noted Hindi writer from the Almora region of UP, now Uttarakhand, was the son of a renowned educationist and musicologist. He died in 2006. Upon his death, Prime Minister Dr Manmohan Singh called him “one of the most influential writers and commentators in Hindi in recent times”. Hum Log, Buniyaad and Kakaji Kahin are some of his masterpiece script writings for television. His best-selling novels include Kasap and Kyap. For Kyap, he was awarded the prestigious Sahitya Academy Award in 2005.
Dr Rafiq Masoodi, a prominent literary figure of the valley and chief patron of Adbi Markaz Kamraz — one of the oldest and most vibrant literary organizations of Jammu and Kashmir — has translated this masterpiece Kyap / Avuch into the native Kashmiri language. The Kashmiri translation of Kyap — Avuch, rendered by Dr Rafiq Masoodi, has added a valuable regional dimension to this important work. This translation is an important contribution to Kashmiri literature, as it makes a complex and thought-provoking text accessible to Kashmiri readers in their mother tongue.
Kyap is not an ordinary story; rather, it is an unbearable disturbance. While going through this meticulously crafted work, the reader is disorganized not through overt drama or rhetorical excess, but through a silent and playful narration that gradually results in unveiling an unsettling tragedy. A reader finds this work as an artfully gentle literary creation which reveals its depth slowly, almost in a clandestine manner. On one hand, this work has been presented lightly as a casual tale narrated with ease, humour and irony, yet its simplicity has been so nicely portrayed that it appears deeply unsettling. The prose lines of this work flow effortlessly, often provoking a smile and amusement. The story unfolds in a playful and disarming conversational tone. The author has woven it naturally, evoking familiarity and comfort.
The language of the work is so conversational that it seems almost gossiping, which lulls the reader and gives him long-lasting comfort. It seems the author has made a deliberate attempt to make it interesting by composing it stylistically. The story is a powerful exploration of life in a society caught between different worlds. While going through the pages of the book, a reader comes to know that the cultural and emotional landscape has been shaped by half-realized modernity and an uncritical post-modern mindset. Traditional customs, values and rituals have no place, while modern ideals have not been fully accommodated. As a result of this, there is no room for morality and human emotions; sincerity, selflessness and pure intentions are viewed with suspicion and emotional vulnerability is treated as weakness.
The story of Kyap is a love story — not a romantic one in the conventional sense or in idealized form — but the love in this story is fragile, vulnerable and unprotected, constantly threatened by societal expectations and frequently colliding head-on with social hypocrisy, intellectual vanity and moral confusion. The characters of this story do not suffer because they lack feeling; rather, they suffer because feelings have no legitimate space in a society obsessed with appearances, progress and borrowed ideas. In other words, we can say that it is not destroyed by overt cruelty or dramatic betrayal but by neglect, hesitation and the inability of society to grant it legitimacy. In this world dominated by mere appearances, progress and borrowed intellectual frameworks, love becomes expendable — something to be set aside or neglected rather than defended. In these situations, love becomes an inconvenience, a liability rather than a strength.
The pseudo-intellectualism or intellectual pretension has been strongly criticized in Kyap, which is its striking feature. Through its devastating critique of intellectuals, the narrative has been built in a way that exposes how intellectual posturing — detached, ironic and emotionally evasive — can become morally irresponsible. Characters engage in ideas, debates and postures of sophistication, yet fail to acknowledge the human consequences of their choices. The narrative suggests that when intellect separates itself from empathy and responsibility, it ceases to be enlightening and instead becomes complicit in emotional harm.
Tragedy in Kyap does not appear loudly; instead, it arrives noiselessly, almost invisibly, mirroring real life where dreams often fade without dramatic collapse. This subtlety of the book is its greatest strength. The reader is not confronted with overt sorrow but with a creeping realization that something precious has been lost. The emotional climax of the book is not marked by a dramatic event but by a sudden inner response in the reader. A staunch and enthusiastic reader of this book makes this announcement that the most powerful achievement of Kyap is its ending — not in terms of plot but in emotional effect. The reader who has been smiling throughout suddenly halts, startled by an unexpected heaviness — an unanticipated emotional blow.
The moment of realization, encapsulated in the noiseless question, “Why are tears rolling down my face, why have my eyelids grown moist?” truly reveals the real impact of the story. This moment is the true climax of the book. It marks the point where irony collapses and truth is revealed. The reader of Kyap realizes that what earlier seemed casual was in fact deeply personal; what previously appeared humorous was quietly tragic.
A reader also realizes that in contemporary times Kyap remains deeply relevant, when societies continue to negotiate identity, progress and tradition without fully understanding any of them. In its broader significance, Kyap speaks powerfully to contemporary readers living in times of transition. It captures the emotional displacement of individuals navigating societies that are intellectually ambitious but emotionally undernourished. This book does not offer solutions; instead, it presents an honest portrayal of what happens when societies become clever without becoming wise and educated without becoming humane.
Ultimately, Kyap is a work of quiet intensity. It is a small work with a long echo. Its power does not lie in dramatic storytelling but demands introspection. It is a book that does not demand attention through loud noise or spectacle but through subtlety and truth. At last, it gives an inspiring message to the reader that literature need not shout to reveal a deep wound; sometimes a whisper is enough.
Dr Rafiq Masoodi’s rendering preserves the spirit, cultural nuances and stylistic texture of the original while giving it a natural Kashmiri expression. This translation — a 159-page work boasting an alluring cover, published by Sahitya Academy, New Delhi — thus serves as a meaningful bridge between languages and literary traditions, enriching the contemporary Kashmiri literary landscape. I hope this translation will be well received by readers with accolades and commendation, like his earlier works Bey Pie Talash and Panun Doud Panin Dag. It is a massive addition to the Kashmiri language and literature.
(Writer is a columnist based in Qazigund, Kashmir)
