In ‘The Battle for Baramulla’ (Penguin Books), Mallika Ravikumar returns to the fraught terrain of Kashmir’s history with a story that is both intimate and expansive.

Set in October 1947, during the tribal invasion of Baramulla, the novel reimagines the legacy of Maqbool Sherwani through the eyes of his fictional cousin, Zooni, a young girl caught between innocence and upheaval.
Published as part of the ‘Songs of Freedom’ series, the book is aimed at younger readers, but its emotional depth and historical nuance make it a compelling read for all ages.
Ravikumar’s narrative compresses the ten-day siege of Baramulla into a taut, character-driven arc, where memory, betrayal, and resistance collide.
At the heart of the story is Maqbool Sherwani, referred to affectionately as “Maqbool Boi,” whose real-life defiance of tribal raiders earned him a place in Kashmir’s collective memory.
Ravikumar paints him as a votary of Kashmiriyat, a fierce critic of Muhammad Ali Jinnah, and a man whose ideological convictions shaped those around him. Yet the novel complicates this heroism through Zooni’s perspective, she overhears Maqbool misleading the raiders and initially believes him to be a traitor.
It is only later, through her grandmother’s inquiry, that the truth emerges: Maqbool had deliberately led the invaders astray to buy time for Indian troops to land in Srinagar.
His execution - 14 bullets fired in rage - becomes the novel’s emotional crescendo.
Ravikumar’s strength lies in her ability to weave historical fact with fictional texture. The town of Baramulla, described as Kashmir’s most prosperous with its 14,000 residents and European community, becomes a microcosm of the region’s pluralism and vulnerability.
The women’s defence wing of the National Conference, led by the iconic Zuni Gujjari, adds a layer of grassroots resistance often missing from mainstream retellings. Posters bearing slogans like ‘Hamlaawar Khabardar, Salaamti Fauj Hai Tayyar’ evoke a time when ordinary citizens took extraordinary risks.
Zooni’s internal monologue is particularly poignant. Her lament - “Why couldn’t Nehru and Jinnah, Maharaja and Abdullah just sort it out between themselves?” - captures the bewilderment of those caught in the crossfire of high politics.
Her heartbreak over friends leaving, her grandfather’s sudden rage, and her desperate attempt to save two rabbits named Zer and Zabar during the hospital siege, all lend the narrative a child’s eye immediacy that is both tender and harrowing.
The book also gestures toward the moral ambiguities of the time. A man in a grey muffler remarks that the crisis could have been averted had the Maharaja made a timely decision about accession.
One of Zooni’s family members remarks that the Maharaja fled Srinagar “like a sneaky thief,” a moment that captures the raw emotion and betrayal felt by those watching history unfold from the margins.
Nor is the novel removed from the quiet grace that once defined Kashmiri society, reflected in characters like Mrs Kachroo, whose every gesture radiates warmth and tradition.
While the age of Maqbool Sherwani is left unspecified, and some historical compression is evident, these choices serve the story’s emotional rhythm rather than detract from its authenticity.
Ravikumar’s prose is accessible yet evocative, making complex history legible without diluting its gravity.
The ‘Battle for Baramulla’ is not just a retelling of a forgotten chapter - it is a meditation on loyalty, memory, and the cost of silence.
In Zooni’s world, the changing season mirrors the changing Kashmir, and Ravikumar ensures that readers feel every leaf that falls.

Email:--------------------------daanishinterview@gmail.com