Srinagar | Aga Syed Amin Mousavi | WTNS | Jan 26:In the Pulchindrious hamlet of Saidapora Bala, nestled amidst Kashmir’s lush cynosure prisms of Eden, the Rishi family’s clinic was more than a place of treatment—it was a sanctuary of hope. For over two centuries, this family upheld the noble art of tibiya medicine, blending ancient herbal remedies with spiritual healing to cure ailments where modern medicine often faltered. Yet, this hallowed tradition has been brought to an abrupt and unjust end—not by the erosion of time, but by the heavy-handedness of a government that fails to see beyond its own bureaucracy.
The irony is as glaring as it is painful: in a state that parades its cultural heritage as a badge of honor, a family that has embodied that heritage for generations has been labeled as “unregulated” and their clinic forcibly shut down. The government, it seems, is keener on erasing its roots than preserving them.
The Reshi legacy began with Akbar Reshi, known affectionately as Akie Reshi, who learned the sacred art of healing from a saintly stranger who arrived from Kabul. This mysterious figure, known as Bab, passed on a treasure trove of knowledge: the use of medicinal plants like Kah Zaban (Arnebia benthamii), Tethwan (Artemesia absinthium), and Michre Komal, coupled with mystical verses, to treat ailments ranging from jaundice and psoriasis to snake bites and rabies.
Patients who had been written off by modern doctors found healing here. Cases of severe jaundice, where bilirubin levels soared to seemingly irreparable heights, were treated with miraculous results. A Rs. 10 consultation fee—donated to charity—was all it took for patients to access this life-saving care. For the Reshis, this was never about profit; it was about service, faith, and the preservation of a divine trust.
A Bureaucracy Blind to Its Own Irony
But today, the Reshi clinic stands locked and lifeless, a cruel testament to the myopia of a government that prioritizes hollow displays of “progress” over genuine service to its people. The official reason? The clinic was “unregulated.” The real reason? A system so steeped in red tape and corporate interests that it can no longer recognize the value of tradition and grassroots healthcare.
The approach of several journalists after government’s actions not just an insult to the Reshi family but to the very soul of Kashmir. The same state that spends millions promoting Ayurveda and Unani systems of medicine has chosen to destroy a living, breathing example of their efficacy. The hypocrisy is staggering: while seminars and campaigns celebrate the idea of traditional medicine, those who actually practice it are labeled quacks and driven out.
This isn’t just a failure of governance—it’s an outright betrayal. For a government that constantly touts its dedication to “self-reliance” and “cultural pride,” shutting down the Reshi clinic is a slap in the face of its own rhetoric.
A Modern Satire in Action
It’s almost comedic—if it weren’t so tragic—that the government is more comfortable with the exorbitant fees of private hospitals than with the selfless service of the Reshis. At corporate hospitals, a consultation can cost thousands, yet the care is often inaccessible to the common man. The Reshis charged Rs. 10. For a government obsessed with GDP figures, perhaps the clinic’s low cost was its greatest crime.
Even more absurd is the government’s inability to see the larger picture. In a region plagued by water pollution and food adulteration—key causes of the jaundice and skin diseases that the Reshis specialized in treating—shouldn’t these healers have been celebrated as allies in the fight against public health crises? Instead, they’ve been treated as enemies.
Despite the government’s hostility, the Reshi family refuses to be defeated. “This isn’t just a profession; it’s our heritage, our duty,” says Gh. Qadir Reshi, the current torchbearer of the tradition. “Our family has served this community for over two centuries. No government order can erase that.”
Patients, too, continue to rally around the family, sharing stories of miraculous recoveries and condemning the government’s actions. “Where else can we go?” asks one patient. “The Reshis don’t just heal the body; they heal the spirit. The government has taken that away from us.”
The closure of the Reshi clinic is more than a bureaucratic misstep—it’s a moral failure. It highlights a government disconnected from the needs of its people, blinded by its obsession with control and incapable of appreciating the value of its own heritage.
The Reshi family’s story is a microcosm of a larger tragedy: the systematic dismantling of Kashmir’s indigenous knowledge systems in favour of a sterile, corporate-driven model of healthcare. But it is also a story of resilience, faith, and an unyielding commitment to service.
The question now is whether the government will wake up to its folly before it’s too late. Will it recognize the Reshi family for what they truly are—custodians of a sacred tradition and saviors of countless lives—or will it continue to trample on the very heritage it claims to protect?
For now, the Reshi legacy stands as a stark reminder of what we stand to lose when bureaucracy triumphs over humanity. Let us hope that the government, and the society it represents, finds the wisdom to let this sacred light shine once more.
‘’Ghulam Qadir Reshi, known as a revered spiritual healer from Saida Pora, Dhara Harwan, a village in the heart of Kashmir, has a longstanding reputation for his deep knowledge of traditional healing methods. His healing practice, particularly in treating jaundice, draws on a centuries-old tradition passed down through generations in his family. As a third-generation healer, Ghulam Qadir Reshi is a key figure in preserving the ancient art of tibiya (herbal medicine), a crucial part of Kashmir’s medical history.
His work Involves using spiritual and herbal remedies, relying on the knowledge passed down by his grandfather, who was also a renowned healer. His treatments are unique in that they blend the healing properties of Kashmiri herbs with spiritual practices, often including prayers and rituals aimed at purifying the body and soul. The community holds him in high esteem because of his ability to cure people who have struggled with jaundice, a condition that many modern treatments have difficulty addressing, especially in rural and remote areas of Kashmir.
Ghulam Qadir Reshi’s approach is not driven by financial gain. He treats his patients free of charge, as his family is well-off and he views his healing work as a service to humanity. His spiritual lineage and dedication to the welfare of others have made him a beloved figure in his village and beyond. People travel from various corners of Kashmir, sometimes from far-flung regions, to seek his help, especially on Sundays, when he traditionally receives patients.
Despite the advances in modern medicine, the trust placed in Ghulam Qadir Reshi’s treatment methods demonstrates the resilience of traditional healing systems in Kashmir. His work is seen as a bridge between the old and the new, where ancient wisdom still holds sway in an age of technological progress. His healing practice not only involves curing the body but also nurturing the spirit, making it a holistic approach to health that resonates with many people in the region.’’
