Grandmother's Alay-Balay

 Grandmother’s Alay-Balay

“Alay-balay!” my grandmother would often say.

When I was very small, I did not know what those mysterious words meant. I only knew that whenever Grandmother said them, I was safe—very safe—like a little chick tucked beneath a warm wing.

My grandmother’s name was Kudmal. She was the mother of four sons, had soft grey hair, wide watchful eyes, and a calm face that could suddenly become very serious if anyone forgot to eat on time. She was a cool woman, though she wore enough warm clothes to make a small mountain jealous.

In winter, she wore a pheran, the traditional loose Kashmiri dress. Her pheran was large, warm, and magical. At least, it felt magical to me.

A pheran is like a long, roomy coat-dress. It has an inner lining called a poss, which makes it extra warm. In those days, the outer pheran was often made from fine cloth—perhaps velvet, called Makhmal, or tweed. I do not remember the exact cloth, but I remember this: Grandmother’s pheran was big enough to hide a baby, a story, a snack, and possibly a sleepy cat.

She would hold me tightly inside it, keeping my little neck and face outside the collar so that I could breathe, peek around, and look important. From inside her warm pheran, the world seemed less frightening. The cold wind could blow all it wanted. I had Grandmother and her giant wearable blanket.

Grandmother came from the Tarivalla family, a respected family in Srinagar, Kashmir. I was told that members of her family had helped bring the telegram service to Srinagar. Some had travelled to learn Morse code—the secret language of dots and dashes used to send messages over long distances.

But Grandmother had her own special kind of message: “Alay-balay!”

As I grew older and began to understand words, I asked my parents what it meant. At first, Mother hesitated, perhaps because the meaning was not easy to fit into one small sentence. Then she explained that alay-balay could mean happiness and sorrow, pleasure and pain—the good things and the difficult things that life brings.

Father, who was sitting nearby, added another meaning. He said the words could also be connected with protection and sacrifice. In Kashmiri homes, women may wave a platter around someone’s head—sometimes with a lamp, camphor, incense, or agarbati—to drive away evil or bad luck. This loving act is called “alay-balay kadun.”

It is like saying, “Away with all troubles! Do not come near my child!”

The word alwun is also connected with this idea of offering or sacrifice. Long ago, families used such prayers and rituals to protect children from illnesses such as smallpox and other dangers.

Now I understand why my grandmother would whisper:

“Alay-balay nishe rachuny.”

She was asking for protection from every calamity.

Perhaps she was protecting me from cold winds, bad dreams, and childhood worries. Or perhaps she was simply making sure that no mischief could find me while I sat inside her enormous pheran.

And honestly, with Grandmother Kudmal watching over me, even mischief would probably have run away.

Poetic lines

Wonderful Grandmother Kudmal—

Inside Grandmother’s great warm pheran,
I glanced out, warm as could be;
The winter wind could huff and puff—
It could not get to me.

“Alay-balay,” Grandmother said,
With wide kind eyes above;
“May troubles fly far, far away,
And leave you safe in love.”

Her pheran held its secret warmth,
Its poss was soft and deep;
A little world of stories, prayers,
And dreams for me to keep.

Grandmother’s love, her tales, her smile,
Still warm my world today—
A little memory from Kashmir,
By Sham Misri, with love to say.