Ghulam Qader Hajam (Urf-Qadir Vousta) was born on 24th July 1945 AD at Uranhal(Ang.) and brought up there. It is said that his parents shifted from Uranhal to Khargund in 1950s.As per the official records, he was appointed as a constable in Home Guard wing of Jammu and Kashmir police and the order dates back to 29th April 1968. And after some time he would leave the job for the reasons not known till date. By profession he was a barber and in addition to that he knew the art of traditional Medicare. But his expertise, beyond limit, was in circumcision (Khatna Karna). He has maintained records in this work to the effect that a child circumcised by Qader Kak would play after half an hour as if some divine touch was in his hand to heal the wounds immediately. Not only this he was an adept in removing cysts from the skin/ muscles that too by quaterization method and having no such failed case that he has ever dealt.
Treating skin allergy and infection by Aruvedic type of method he would do the best service to community and he would charge very least charge ranging from Rs.10-20 per patient. He was also a leech gatherer and would treat people with various ailments with the leeches. He was a man of Sufi understanding and a deep lover of sufiana poetry. He could often be seen listening to Kashmiri sufiana music while working or being free. Although he was not a practicing fellow with regard to Nimaz and Rouza, at the same time he was an accountable person up to the maximum level. He would never make any excuses in making the payments due to him.
Above all he was a man of soft nature and I as next door to him he has never been seen fighting with any anyone or abusing anyone. So I would most aptly compare him with a character from 1932 noble laureate in English literature - John Galsworthy who has mastered a short story ‘Quality’ in which he discusses about a shoe maker namely Mr. Gessler. In order to make a synchronization between the two characters I would like to quote a Para from the story…I knew him from the days of my extreme youth, because he made my father’s boots; inhabiting with his elder brother two little shops let into one, in a small by-street—now no more, but then most fashionably placed in the West End.That tenement had a certain quiet distinction; there was no sign upon its face that he made for any of the Royal Family—merely his own German name of Gessler Brothers; and in the window a few pairs of boots. I remember that it always troubled me to account for those unvarying boots in the window, for he made only what was ordered, reaching nothing down, and it seemed so inconceivable that what he made could ever have failed to fit. Had he bought them to put there? That, too, seemed inconceivable. He would never have tolerated in his house leather on which he had not worked himself. Besides, they were too beautiful—the pair of pumps, so inexpressibly slim, the patent leathers with cloth tops, making water come into one’s mouth, the tall brown riding boots with marvelous sooty glow, as if, though new, they had been worn a hundred years. Those pairs could only have been made by one who saw before him the Soul of Boot—so truly were they prototypes incarnating the very spirit of all foot-gear. These thoughts, of course, came to me later, though even when I was promoted to him, at the age of perhaps fourteen, some inkling haunted me of the dignity of himself and brother. For to make boots—such boots as he made—seemed to me then, and still seems to me, mysterious and wonderful.
I remember well my shy remark, one day, while stretching out to him my youthful foot:“Isn’t it awfully hard to do, Mr. Gessler?”And his answer, given with a sudden smile from out of the sardonic redness of his beard: “Id is an Ardt!”Himself, he was a little as if made from leather, with his yellow crinkly face, and crinkly reddish hair and beard, and neat folds slanting down his checks to the corners of his mouth, and his guttural and one-toned voice; for leather is a sardonic substance, and stiff and slow of purpose. And that was the character of his face, save that his eyes, which were gray-blue, had in them the simple gravity of one secretly possessed by the Ideal. His elder brother was so very like him—though watery, paler in every way, with a great industry—that sometimes in early days I was not quite sure of him until the interview was over. Then I knew that it was he, if the words, “I will ask my brudder,” had not been spoken; and that, if they had, it was his elder brother.
When one grew old and wild and ran up bills, one somehow never ran them up with Gessler Brothers. It would not have seemed becoming to go in there and stretch out one’s foot to that blue iron-spectacled glance, owing him for more than—say—two pairs, just the comfortable reassurance that one was still his client.For it was not possible to go to him very often—his boots lasted terribly, having something beyond the temporary—some, as it were, essence of boot stitched into them.One went in, not as into most shops, in the mood of: “Please serve me, and let me go!” but restfully, as one enters a church; and, sitting on the single wooden chair, waited—for there was never anybody there. Soon, over the top edge of that sort of well—rather dark, and smelling soothingly of leather—which formed the shop, there would be seen his face, or that of his elder brother, peering down. A guttural sound, and the tip-tap of bast slippers beating the narrow wooden stairs, and he would stand before one without coat, a little bent, in leather apron, with sleeves turned back, blinking—as if awakened from some dream of boots, or like an owl surprised in daylight and annoyed at this interruption…. So Qader kak was no less than the Gessler by Galsworthy. He would also put his soul into his work whatever it was. He was very sincere in his service without any consideration of gain or loss like Gessler who would tell his customers how long his shoes would go.
Qader Kak was a very humble and soft natured person. He was helpful and cooperative with all villagers and neighbors etc. he would never compel a person to pay the money at the time he would treat somebody. And his resignation was full of willingness when we asked told that we don’t have money. I remember, it was the summer of 2012 and especially this holy month of Ramadan when I developed a pimple on my left eyebrow. And I was very restless. Early in the morning, I visited Qader Kaka’s home and requested him to give some medicine. He told his wife to give him the bag and she gave it him. He opened a charcoal like substance and little bit made it soft and then pasted it on a piece of cloth that was totally dirty and black as the current medicinal method would not allow it, but the fact being that it really removed the ailment without causing any side effect.
Email:--------------------ishaq7007@gmail.com
Ghulam Qader Hajam (Urf-Qadir Vousta) was born on 24th July 1945 AD at Uranhal(Ang.) and brought up there. It is said that his parents shifted from Uranhal to Khargund in 1950s.As per the official records, he was appointed as a constable in Home Guard wing of Jammu and Kashmir police and the order dates back to 29th April 1968. And after some time he would leave the job for the reasons not known till date. By profession he was a barber and in addition to that he knew the art of traditional Medicare. But his expertise, beyond limit, was in circumcision (Khatna Karna). He has maintained records in this work to the effect that a child circumcised by Qader Kak would play after half an hour as if some divine touch was in his hand to heal the wounds immediately. Not only this he was an adept in removing cysts from the skin/ muscles that too by quaterization method and having no such failed case that he has ever dealt.
Treating skin allergy and infection by Aruvedic type of method he would do the best service to community and he would charge very least charge ranging from Rs.10-20 per patient. He was also a leech gatherer and would treat people with various ailments with the leeches. He was a man of Sufi understanding and a deep lover of sufiana poetry. He could often be seen listening to Kashmiri sufiana music while working or being free. Although he was not a practicing fellow with regard to Nimaz and Rouza, at the same time he was an accountable person up to the maximum level. He would never make any excuses in making the payments due to him.
Above all he was a man of soft nature and I as next door to him he has never been seen fighting with any anyone or abusing anyone. So I would most aptly compare him with a character from 1932 noble laureate in English literature - John Galsworthy who has mastered a short story ‘Quality’ in which he discusses about a shoe maker namely Mr. Gessler. In order to make a synchronization between the two characters I would like to quote a Para from the story…I knew him from the days of my extreme youth, because he made my father’s boots; inhabiting with his elder brother two little shops let into one, in a small by-street—now no more, but then most fashionably placed in the West End.That tenement had a certain quiet distinction; there was no sign upon its face that he made for any of the Royal Family—merely his own German name of Gessler Brothers; and in the window a few pairs of boots. I remember that it always troubled me to account for those unvarying boots in the window, for he made only what was ordered, reaching nothing down, and it seemed so inconceivable that what he made could ever have failed to fit. Had he bought them to put there? That, too, seemed inconceivable. He would never have tolerated in his house leather on which he had not worked himself. Besides, they were too beautiful—the pair of pumps, so inexpressibly slim, the patent leathers with cloth tops, making water come into one’s mouth, the tall brown riding boots with marvelous sooty glow, as if, though new, they had been worn a hundred years. Those pairs could only have been made by one who saw before him the Soul of Boot—so truly were they prototypes incarnating the very spirit of all foot-gear. These thoughts, of course, came to me later, though even when I was promoted to him, at the age of perhaps fourteen, some inkling haunted me of the dignity of himself and brother. For to make boots—such boots as he made—seemed to me then, and still seems to me, mysterious and wonderful.
I remember well my shy remark, one day, while stretching out to him my youthful foot:“Isn’t it awfully hard to do, Mr. Gessler?”And his answer, given with a sudden smile from out of the sardonic redness of his beard: “Id is an Ardt!”Himself, he was a little as if made from leather, with his yellow crinkly face, and crinkly reddish hair and beard, and neat folds slanting down his checks to the corners of his mouth, and his guttural and one-toned voice; for leather is a sardonic substance, and stiff and slow of purpose. And that was the character of his face, save that his eyes, which were gray-blue, had in them the simple gravity of one secretly possessed by the Ideal. His elder brother was so very like him—though watery, paler in every way, with a great industry—that sometimes in early days I was not quite sure of him until the interview was over. Then I knew that it was he, if the words, “I will ask my brudder,” had not been spoken; and that, if they had, it was his elder brother.
When one grew old and wild and ran up bills, one somehow never ran them up with Gessler Brothers. It would not have seemed becoming to go in there and stretch out one’s foot to that blue iron-spectacled glance, owing him for more than—say—two pairs, just the comfortable reassurance that one was still his client.For it was not possible to go to him very often—his boots lasted terribly, having something beyond the temporary—some, as it were, essence of boot stitched into them.One went in, not as into most shops, in the mood of: “Please serve me, and let me go!” but restfully, as one enters a church; and, sitting on the single wooden chair, waited—for there was never anybody there. Soon, over the top edge of that sort of well—rather dark, and smelling soothingly of leather—which formed the shop, there would be seen his face, or that of his elder brother, peering down. A guttural sound, and the tip-tap of bast slippers beating the narrow wooden stairs, and he would stand before one without coat, a little bent, in leather apron, with sleeves turned back, blinking—as if awakened from some dream of boots, or like an owl surprised in daylight and annoyed at this interruption…. So Qader kak was no less than the Gessler by Galsworthy. He would also put his soul into his work whatever it was. He was very sincere in his service without any consideration of gain or loss like Gessler who would tell his customers how long his shoes would go.
Qader Kak was a very humble and soft natured person. He was helpful and cooperative with all villagers and neighbors etc. he would never compel a person to pay the money at the time he would treat somebody. And his resignation was full of willingness when we asked told that we don’t have money. I remember, it was the summer of 2012 and especially this holy month of Ramadan when I developed a pimple on my left eyebrow. And I was very restless. Early in the morning, I visited Qader Kaka’s home and requested him to give some medicine. He told his wife to give him the bag and she gave it him. He opened a charcoal like substance and little bit made it soft and then pasted it on a piece of cloth that was totally dirty and black as the current medicinal method would not allow it, but the fact being that it really removed the ailment without causing any side effect.
Email:--------------------ishaq7007@gmail.com
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