One Verse, One Voice, One Memory at a Time

For more than a decade, entrepreneur, author, and producer Samina Masoodi has been doing the kind of quiet work that reshapes destinies, the work many believed was already too late to begin. From home thousands of miles away from the valley that formed her first lullabies, Massodi has been rescuing and documenting Kashmiri oral traditions Kasher Baeth, Wanwun from the brink of disappearance - one verse, one voice, one memory at a time.

What started as a personal lifeline, a young family in the United States longing for the familiar cadence of Kashmiri wedding songs — soon grew into Kasher Baeth, an unprecedented compilation of Kashmiri songs in Roman script. It was meant to fill a gap for her own children; instead, it illuminated a void for an entire community. Diaspora families, culture keepers, and even households within Kashmir found themselves turning to her work, rediscovering melodies they feared had slipped away forever. Then came Wanwun: An Anthology — a project propelled by urgency. The lyrical form once inseparable from Kashmiri weddings had faded so drastically that no formal archives remained: no manuscripts, no digital collections, not even reliable recordings. Wanwun, an art form carried for centuries by the voices of Kashmiri women, was dissolving into silence. Massodi refused to let that silence settle. She sought out mothers, grandmothers, neighbours, and friends and cultural linguists, gathering their remembered verses like precious fragments of a shared heritage. The result is a living archive that now moves across continents, preserving the soundscape of Kashmiri joy, ritual, and belonging in formats that can endure: books, digital platforms, and audio-visual records.

In this Sunday Special, in a candid conversation with Senior Editor Nazir Ganaie, Samina Massodi reflects on the genesis of her books, the emotional and cultural pulse of Wanwun, the women who safeguarded Kashmir’s oral traditions, and her mission to build a long-term archival home for Kashmiri music, ensuring that these voices, once at risk of fading, continue to echo for generations. Excerpts!

Greater Kashmir: What inspired you to write Wanwun?

Samina Masoodi: Before I begin, I would love for Greater Kashmir to spotlight both of my works — Kaesher Baeth, the repository of Kashmiri songs, as well as the new Wanwun book. While the Wanwun book is close to my heart, the Kashmiri song collection has been an even larger undertaking, and I hope readers get to enjoy and celebrate both.

The idea for compiling Kashmiri songs first took shape when I moved to the USA. Weddings here often lacked easy access to traditional Kashmiri songs, and I longed for something that could keep our cultural melodies alive at these joyous gatherings. What began as a personal effort soon grew into something much bigger. Kaesher Baeth spread like wildfire — embraced not just by the diaspora but by people in Kashmir as well.

Soon, I began receiving heartfelt requests for Kashmiri wanwun, so families could add an even more authentic cultural touch to their weddings. When I began searching for wanwun online, I was taken aback by how little existed — neither sing-along audio/videos nor proper written lyrics, just a handful of scattered short clips. That’s when it struck me: if nothing exists in Kashmiri or even in Roman script, then someone needs to act — quickly — before we lose this precious tradition.

So I took it upon myself to create an easy-to-read Wanwun book in Roman alphabet, mirroring the format of the Kashmiri song collection. My hope is that this book, like Kaesher Baeth, will help preserve our heritage and make it accessible to future generations — no matter where in the world they may be.

This was your second edition. How was the response to the first one?

The response to the first edition was nothing short of extraordinary. I had expected the Kashmiri diaspora to embrace it warmly—but what truly astonished me was seeing the book travel back home. Suddenly, videos and messages began pouring in from Kashmir itself, with families using my Wanwun book at weddings, voices rising in celebration over pages I had once agonized over. It was surreal, humbling, and deeply heartening to watch the tradition find its way full circle.

Was there a specific moment or experience that made you realize the need to preserve or reinterpret this traditional Kashmiri art form through literature?

I can’t pinpoint a single lightning-bolt moment, per se. It was more the accumulation of troubling signs I kept encountering. As I mentioned earlier, there were literally no online resources for Wanwun—zero lyrics, zero archives, zero trace of this centuries-old tradition anywhere. At the same time, I noticed an entire generation growing up without the ability to read, write, or even speak Kashmiri fluently.

Then came the weddings. Each time I attended one in Kashmir, I saw Wanwun being pushed aside outsourced to hired singers, or replaced altogether with Qawalis and DJs. It felt like watching a living art form quietly slip into oblivion.

That urgency—the fear that Wanwun might vanish in front of our eyes—is what compelled me to start this work immediately. I couldn’t let this cultural treasure fade without a fight.

The title Wanwun itself carries deep cultural and emotional symbolism. How do you perceive its role in shaping collective memory, especially among Kashmiri women?

Wanwun is the quintessential Kashmiri way of celebrating important events of our life through singing. Our Kashmiri culture, language, and heritage are the pillars that have shaped our beliefs, values and given us an enduring sense of connection and belonging to Kashmir, even for those who didn’t like wanwun growing up but now get teary eyed when they hear wanwun. By making Wanwun accessible to women, who are the primary singers, they rejoice in this shared identity. My hope is that these memories along with the wanwun book can be passed down to their children and grandchildren, thus ensuring the immortality of our cultural legacy.

In your writing and work, how do you navigate the delicate balance between preserving Kashmiri traditions and reimagining them for a contemporary audience?

For me, preserving the authenticity and soul of Kashmiri Wanwun was not just a passion; it was a responsibility, a way to ensure that this timeless tradition endures for generations to come. At the same time, I wanted to make Wanwun accessible to a contemporary, global audience, bringing its magic to people who may no longer speak, read, or write Kashmiri but connect with the universal language of emotion and celebration.

To achieve this, the lyrics were thoughtfully transcribed into an easy-to-read Roman script, allowing the melodies and words to resonate beyond linguistic boundaries. Complex or lesser-known Kashmiri terms were accompanied by their meanings, ensuring that no nuance or charm was lost. Each song was contextualized with a brief glimpse into the wedding rituals and moments it celebrates, giving users a richer understanding of its place in tradition.

In a modern twist, the entire collection was brought to life as a searchable online wiki and as an electronic Wanwun book, fully compatible with laptops, tablets, and mobile devices. By bridging heritage with technology, the spirit of Wanwun now thrives not only in the hearts of those who grew up with it but also in the imaginations of a global audience eager to discover its melody, meaning, and magic.

Who else contributed to the Wanwun? How is it taken among diaspora?

The Wanwun Huers—our cherished couplets—have been passed down through generations by word of mouth: from mothers, aunts, and grandmothers, to cousins, friends, and neighbors. Each recitation is a thread in the rich tapestry of Kashmiri oral tradition. Recently, one of the largest and most treasured collections came from Misra Begum, who painstakingly recited them to her 23-year-old granddaughter, Dr. Mahnoor Khan, fearing that these delicate words might vanish forever. In turn, Dr. Mahnoor entrusted me with this precious legacy, hoping I could help preserve it for future generations of Kashmiris.

This collection is now available as an online Google Doc—a searchable, collaborative wiki—designed not only to preserve our heritage but also to invite contributions from the wider community. It is a living, breathing project, evolving with each voice that joins in.

The response has been nothing short of astonishing. Kashmiris across the globe have embraced the book with joy and pride, sharing messages and videos of themselves reciting wanwun, connecting across continents through the power of our words. Each message, each video, is a testament to the enduring spirit of our culture.

My deepest hope is that our wanwun and our songs will outlive us, continuing to echo through generations, keeping alive the heart and soul of Kashmir long after we are gone.

As the co-producer of Songs of Paradise, what was your vision for the film? How did you aim to weave the story of music, identity, and loss into a cinematic experience?

As a Co-Producer for Songs of Paradise, my role was a unique blend of creative guidance and musical insight. Alongside Shafat, I immersed myself in reviewing the screenplay, screen tests, and auditions, offering feedback to ensure the story stayed true to its heart—a musically rich journey of a strong Kashmiri woman—while keeping its theatrical and entertaining spirit intact. I also spent a few days on set during production, an experience that was both inspiring and deeply educational, giving me a firsthand glimpse into bringing such a vibrant story to life.

Both Wanwun and Songs of Paradise seem to engage with themes of cultural preservation. Do you see your literary and filmic work as complementary forms of archiving a disappearing heritage?

Yes, they are complementary. The books provide a literal, written archive of lyrics (the text), while the film provides an emotional, visual, and auditory archive of the music and the stories behind it. Together, they offer a multi-faceted approach to preserving a heritage that is largely based on oral tradition, making it accessible through different mediums.

Much of Kashmiri oral tradition has been carried forward by women. How does your work engage with the idea of female voice, resilience, and storytelling within that tradition?

While most of the other genres of Kashmiri music…songs, chakar etc. have been passed from generation to generation by males except for occasional females likes Raj Begum, Hassina Begum, Kailash Mehra, Shameema Dev etc. However, contrary to that almost all of the wanwun is passed on from women of one generation to other. The wanwun is indeed a female-led art form weaving stories of love, resilience and power.

Kashmir has often been represented through certain fixed narratives in media and art. How do you, as a storyteller, navigate those external perceptions while remaining true to local nuance and authenticity?

My focus is primarily on preserving our Kashmiri songs and Wanwun and not let it be buried by modern pop singing generation. By compiling our timeless songs and wanwun, that were starting to accumulate the dust of time, I want to showcase our rich heritage, our beautiful customs and our rich traditions, that are uniquely Kashmiri.

Can you walk us through your creative process — from research to writing Wanwun, or from conceptualization to production in Songs of Paradise? How do you translate emotion and memory into artistic form?

As I have mentioned previously, For Wanwun and Kashmiri songs, the process began with a realization of absence (no online resources), followed by extensive personal outreach (watching videos, listening to audio one line at a time,calling family and friends) to gather lyrics line by line. This process is quite laborious and months/year-long process, requires multiple revisions, corrections, proof reading, layout revisions, meetings with experts that are involved in final formatting and book design.My goal is always to maintain the poetic integrity of the work and not make any changes to the original work, thus maintaining that childhood oral memory into a tangible, usable resource. For Songs of Paradise process also focus by all producers, writers and director was on appealing to modern audience without compromising on authenticity.

Kashmiri language and music hold layers of meaning that often get lost in translation. How do you approach the challenge of making your work accessible while retaining its linguistic and cultural soul?

As addressed above, the book is written using Roman alphabet (English) without changing the pronunciation and original writings, in order to retain the “soul” of the language. I try to include translations of difficult words to make comprehension easy without having to replace the original text. This approach allows readers to engage with the material in its “near” authentic form.

On a personal level, how has your engagement with Kashmiri music, oral tradition, and heritage shaped your sense of self, belonging, and identity as an artist?

A Kashmiri playwright once told me, “Kasher zabaan, saenen ahsaasan hinz khushboo”—the Kashmiri language carries the fragrance of our deepest emotions. That single line has stayed with me, and in many ways, it defines my journey.

Over the past decade, immersing myself in the writings of our legendary Kashmiri poets and scholars—and exploring soulful art forms like Sufiyan Musique, Chakar, Rouf, Gyawun, Wanwun, and so many others—has awakened something profound within me. It has nourished both my mind and spirit, reigniting my sense of belonging and strengthening my identity as a proud cultural ambassador of Kashmir. Today, I stand humbled and grateful that my work allows me to play even a small part in preserving and celebrating our shared Kashmiri heritage—keeping its fragrance alive for generations to come.

What’s next for you after Wanwun and Songs of Paradise? Are there upcoming projects, literary, cinematic, or cultural, that continue this dialogue between art, memory, and heritage?

What I’ve captured in my books is only the tip of the iceberg. Thousands of beautiful literary gems by Kashmiri scholars and poets are still waiting to be collected and preserved. Book wanwun and Kashmiri songbooks are ongoing projects, and I’m deeply involved in searching, compiling, and adding new pieces to our online repository.

I warmly invite our Kashmiri community of researchers, observers, literary persons to contribute by adding more works to the Google Doc version of the book on Kashmirisongs.com—let’s grow this treasure together for future generations.

I also plan to release side-by-side Kashmiri versions of these books. Many generous donors have already entrusted me with their grandmothers’ wanwun notebooks, and I will be scanning and sharing them on the website in their original form.

If time allows, I hope to explore more genres of Kashmiri music as well. I’ll keep you posted on everything that unfolds.