THE SHEIKH OF EMIRATE OF WORDS
Abdul Gani Sheikh, a name that resonated through and beyond the rugged valleys of Ladakh like a whispered legend carried by the Himalayan winds, went to eternal sleep on 20 August 2024 at the age of 88. His departure marked the exit of a torchbearer of knowledge and scholarship, a historian of repute, an eminent short story writer, a trusted broadcast journalist — a luminous star of Ladakh that shone over and beyond its horizon. The end came only a fortnight after he was awarded the region’s highest civilian award, Ladakh dPal rNgam Duston (Pride of Ladakh), an honour that he shares with Dalai Lama, the Tibetan spiritual leader. His pen, dipped in the ink of memory, traced the contours of forgotten alleyways of the Moonland and brought to life its rich stories and traditions by weaving them into the fabric of our collective memory.
Born on the cusp of spring — 5 March — in 1936 at Leh, Sheikh emerged as a towering literary and cultural ambassador of Ladakh, respected for his scholarship across geographical boundaries. Expanding his international horizon, he spoke at seminars in major cities of the world — Rome, Bristol, Berlin, Denmark, Brasilia, Tehran, Delhi and Islamabad — and his erudite audiences leaned in, as if hearing echoes from a distant epoch. He was more than ink and syllables. His scholarly pursuits led him to explore the very bones of Ladakh’s past. In the quietude of libraries — tracing manuscripts and dipping his pen into the inkwell of written and oral traditions — he unearthed secrets and told these to the world through his writings and eloquence. A historian with the heart of an adventurer — a literary archaeologist — he brushed away the sands of time to reveal the mosaic of Ladakh’s past. The history of Ladakhi Muslims and Ladakh’s relationships with Central Asia and other neighbouring regions were the particular focus of his work. The region has the distinction of producing few brilliant historians who deftly explored its past, and Sheikh, with master's in history, outshone them all. He was an academic monk clad in the cloak of curiosity.
Developing interest in fiction writing at a very young age, Abdul Gani Sheikh began his literary journey with writing Urdu fiction. His first short story was published in a Srinagar newspaper in 1958, and soon his works appeared in the leading Urdu journals of India, announcing the arrival of a prolific storyteller from a God forsaken land. For decades, he untiringly nourished the flame of Urdu in Ladakh. Several of his works of fiction were translated into different international and regional languages including English, German, Hindi, Gujarati, Bengali, Telugu and Kashmiri. Kashmir, the land of his ancestors — his grandfather, (Ghulam) Mohammad Sheikh had migrated from Srinagar’s Gurgari Mohalla to Leh during the second half of the 19th century — ignited his passion for exploring and writing. It was in Srinagar that he was first exposed to newspapers, libraries and literary gatherings.
Sheikh and I had been friends for about four decades. Our paths converged in Leh in 1986. He was the correspondent for Radio Kashmir Leh, and I was heading the Information and Public Relations office. The nature of our work brought us close, and the bond lasted till his demise. Only a week before he bade farewell to the world, I had spoken with him on phone and he informed me that he was in Srinagar preparing for surgery for cholecystectomy (removal of gallbladder), an otherwise simple operation that, unfortunately, snatched him from us. Post-surgery he suffered infection which proved fatal. In July and August last, I had been in constant touch with him for his always-rich-inputs for my long piece on my tryst with Ladakh. He called me to convey his appreciation for the write-up and wondered if those words would find their way into my future book. After my transfer from Leh in 1987, I visited the town umpteen times and, each time, made it a point to call on him at his Shenam abode or meet at a mutually convenient place. It was always a pleasure to converse with a man with loads of knowledge and a greater measure of humility. He was a walking encyclopaedia on Ladakh, a repository of knowledge, who wore no airs. He valued silence over unnecessary words. Iqbal’s verse clung to him: “The greater the capacity within someone, the quieter he is.” One would always benefit from his intellect and wealth of information. Conversation with him was like sipping yak-butter tea.
Sheikh was a humble, truthful and honest man who lived a simple life, never raised his voice nor lost his temper, and was equally respectful towards his seniors and juniors. He shunned show-off and publicity. On the marriage of his grandchild, he joined the groom’s wedding procession wearing a tracksuit, convincing his bewildered medico son that he felt more comfortable in his routine dress than in an informal attire. He left this world with a zero balance in his bank account — a testament to a life uncluttered by greed. He had no qualms about his modest background and would proudly declare that his father sold apples and apricots on a cot in Leh Bazaar. In his conversations and dealings with people, he was very civilized. I shared with him an age difference of about two decades, yet he engaged with me as a coeval friend. During his posting in Srinagar in late 1980s, he would drop in my office to have a chat or hand over his meticulously researched article on Ladakh’s history and culture for our departmental monthly Urdu journal, Tameer, to which he contributed regularly.
Sheikh’s stint as news editor at Radio Kashmir Srinagar was a period of turmoil and a hard time for newsmen in the Valley. The militancy was on ascendency, the civil administration had collapsed, and the elected government had been replaced with the Governor’s administration. He was uncomfortable with political interference in the selection of news and found it in sharp conflict with guidelines periodically issued by the ministry and lessons given at departmental training courses to uphold facts and impartiality in dissemination of news. On 23 January 1990, a protest demonstration was held at Sonawar in uptown Srinagar, against the killing of 55 persons at Gaw Kadal two days back, when a senior official of the UNMOGIP with his armed guards passed through. On seeing the UN vehicle, the protesters raised slogans, and the panicky guards opened fire on them killing five persons. The official version put the death toll at three. On the strength of their sources and eyewitness account, Radio Kashmir and Doordarshan Srinagar reported five casualties. Governor Jagmohan was not pleased and summoned Sheikh and his Doordarshan counterpart to Raj Bhavan where they were reprimanded for exceeding the official version on the incident. The newsrooms of both radio and television were shifted outside Kashmir. Sheikh was transferred to Delhi where he sought, and was granted in 1991, premature retirement from service, about three years in advance of the scheduled date of his superannuation. He returned to Leh to fulltime engage himself in literary pursuits and social activities.
Post-retirement, he pursued his passion with more zeal. This was the period when he visited different countries to attend seminars and share his knowledge with eager audiences. He published more books including collections of his short stories, novels and, importantly, his research works on history and culture of Ladakh. His seminal works include Reflections of Ladakh, Tibet and Central Asia, Ladakh ki Tareekh ke Ahem Goshay (Important Corners of Ladakh’s History), Do Mulk Aik Kahani (Two Countries, One Story), Ladakh Muhhaqiqun aur Saiyihaun ki Nazar Mai (Ladakh in the Eyes of Researchers and Travellers), Forsaking Paradise (English translation of his short stories) and Ladakh: Tehzeeb-o-Saqafat (Ladakh: Civilization and Culture). Another book on Ladakh that he had completed but could not see in print is Ladakh ki Nayi Tareek (New History of Ladakh). His Reflections of Ladakh, Tibet and Central Asia, and an Urdu novel, Dil Hi To Hai, won the Best Book Award from the J&K Academy of Art, Culture & Languages. He served as a mentor to researchers, including foreigners, in their research papers and doctoral dissertations. The Jammu University’s award of doctorate degree on a thesis on Sheikh’s literary contribution, and the University of Delhi and the University of Indore conferring M. Phil degrees on theses on Sheikh’s works, the Sheeraza’s Abdul Gani Sheikh Number and Dr. Pemi Romani-edited Abdul Gani Sheikh: Shakhsiyat aur Adab represent a well-deserved tribute to his contribution as an author, historian and a social activist.
Besides his literary pursuits, Abdul Gani Sheikh got actively involved in community issues and shouldered important responsibilities as Principal Islamia Public High School — shaping young minds — and Vice-President Ladakh Muslim Association (LMA) and Anjuman-e-Moin-ul-Islam (AMI) — navigating community currents. He represented the Muslims of Ladakh in Delhi on the demand of autonomous hill development council, and Argon Muslims for granting them the status of a scheduled tribe. As a matter of routine, he happily received at his home dozens of deprived people from Leh and surrounding villages who came to him for writing petitions seeking redress of their grievances from the government. Like a sage, he guided them on how to address their problems. For his neighbours and commoners, he was love and warmth. After he had successfully served the LMA and AMI as Vice President, he became an unofficial advisor to the two organisations whose Presidents often called on him to draw from his wisdom. He was the brain behind establishment of the Central Asian Museum Leh, an important landmark site for tourists and local visitors, besides being the founding member of the International Association of Ladakh Studies (IALS).
Kashmir was close to Sheikh’s heart — besides being his ancestral land — for inspiring and motivating his journey on the highway of literature and scholarship. For the last fifteen years, he spent winters in Srinagar, where he had numerous friends and admirers, and each summer, Leh welcomed him back. Perhaps for his love for the Valley, Allah chose Kashmir for him to take his last breath on the Planet Earth. And as his body returned to Leh’s soil, people — across faiths and factions — walked in his funeral procession and paid him glowing tributes.
The Sheikh of the Emirate of Words has departed from the world but in the annals of Ladakh and the planet of literature he persists as a luminous chapter that will not fade into oblivion. Personally, I lost a gifted friend and my strongest link with Ladakh.