The Kaul Lineage and Early Life
In my childhood, I once laid hands on an old piece of paper depicting my family tree. It began with our ancestor, Pt. Raja Kaul, descended through generations of our forefathers, and finally ended with my grandfather’s name. At that age, I did not understand the importance of preserving the document, and I eventually lost it. Years later, I happened to read a magazine article about Pt. Jawaharlal Nehru that displayed his family tree, which also originated with Pt. Raja Kaul. As I had lost our document, I could not compare the intervening generations to confirm whether this was a coincidence or if we shared the exact same progenitor—a loss I deeply regret. However, given how extensive both descending lines were, it would come as no surprise if Pt. Raja Kaul was indeed the singular patriarch heading the Kaul dynasty in Kashmir.
From what I gathered from my elders, I can trace our specific branch back to Pt. Nand Kaul. Having no children of his own, Pt. Nand Kaul adopted a male child from his cousin and named him Ram Kaul. Later, Pt. Nand Kaul’s wife gave birth to a son, Pt. Amar Kaul, who founded another branch of our family.
Pt. Ram Kaul worked as a clerk in the Police Department and married Smt. Sampkuji from the Labru family. He was quick-witted with a bit of a temper, while his wife was a pious and kind lady. They had two sons and two daughters. Their elder son, Pt. Laxman Kaul—my grandfather—was a very religious, intelligent man who worked in the State Excise Department. He married Smt. Radhamali from the Raina family, a woman of great beauty and intellect. They had two sons: Pt. Gopi Nath Kaul and my father, Pt. Sham Lal Kaul.
Sadly, my grandfather died at the young age of 29, when my father was only two years old. Pt. Laxman Kaul was a deeply devout man. On every Shukla Paksha Ashtami, he would walk 25 kilometers from his residence at Habba Kadal, Srinagar, to the Mata Kheer Bhawani shrine in Tulamulla. Like most people in those days, he made the journey on foot due to the lack of public transport.
On one occasion, he applied for a day's leave to make the pilgrimage, but his senior officer rejected the application. Left with no alternative, my grandfather set out on foot in the evening, traveled through the night, paid his respects at the shrine, and returned to the office on time the following morning. A few days later, the right hand of the officer who had denied his leave became paralyzed. Whether the officer realized his mistake or connected his illness to the incident remains unknown.
Following my grandfather's early death, my father and uncle were raised by their grandfather, Pt. Ram Kaul, and their uncle, Pt. Samsar Chand Kaul. Samsar Chand was a dedicated, hardworking man married to Smt. Tarawati from the Chakoo family of Rainawari; they had five daughters and one son, Sh. Girdhari Lal Kaul, who later settled in Pathankot. My uncle, Pt. Gopi Nath Kaul, was a sharp-witted man who became the first dentist in the valley. His son, Dr. A.K. Kaul, went on to become a renowned doctor and the first graduate dental surgeon in Kashmir.
My Father’s Spiritual Beginnings and Marriage
My father, a devout Hindu, grew interested in spirituality from an early age. After completing his education, he joined the Medical Department. While posted at Budgam, he would go to the nearby river early in the morning for a bath and Sandhya Vandana while it was still dark. Observing his spiritual inclination, the great saint Swami Nand Lal Ji of Budgam—lovingly known as Mahatma Ji—noticed him on the river steps and invited him to attend evening discourse classes at his ashram next to the local temple.
My father readily accepted and never looked back. Eventually, Guru Maharaj asked him to move into the ashram permanently, alongside other disciples. My father lived there under strict discipline for several years until his eventual transfer. During his time at the ashram, he studied under a woman saint referred to as Devi (her actual name was Radhamali, a child widow and distant relative of Guru Maharaj). She was spiritually elevated and soft-spoken; my father recalled that while working in the kitchen, she would correct his Vedic recitations from behind a screen without ever showing her face. My father learned the intricacies of spirituality at his Guru’s feet, becoming his most devoted disciple.
With the permission of his Guru Maharaj—though to the reluctance of his Guru-bhai Niranjan, a lifelong celibate who attained great spiritual heights—my father married my mother, Smt. Devki Kak. My mother was a devoted homemaker and resourceful manager of our household. She was the daughter of Sh. Sham Lal Kak, an official in the Accountant General’s office who was among the valley's first graduates and a pioneer of Kashmiri theatre. Her two brothers, Sh. Amar Nath Kak and Sh. Som Nath Kak, later founded the optician business in Kashmir. Her third and youngest brother Sh. Prem Nath Kak completed M.com and choose to work in central silk Board.
My parents had five daughters and two sons. I am the youngest child, and my elder brother, Dr. V.K. Kaul, became a renowned chemical engineer and the first in our family to earn a doctorate in the discipline.
Political Unrest and the Infiltration of 1947
When my father was transferred from Budgam back to his hometown of Srinagar, he deeply missed his Guru’s presence. Soon after, miscreants set fire to the house where Guru Ji was living in Budgam. Facing the calamity with profound stoicism, Guru Ji instructed his disciples to throw ghee into the flames so it would resemble a havan. Following the incident, Guru Ji moved to Srinagar, taking up residence in a large house owned by another disciple, Sh. Sham Lal Tiku, close to our home. My father resumed his morning routine of visiting his Guru to read scriptures—notably mastering the complex Yoga Vasistha—before heading to the hospital.
Then came the aftermath of Partition and its turbulent impact on Kashmir. Tribal infiltrators, known locally as Kabalis, crossed into Kashmir, looting, killing, and committing atrocities in border areas. As panic spread, non-local staff fled, but my father remained posted as a doctor at a small hospital in a village near what is now the Line of Control (LoC). He sent our family ahead to safety in Srinagar, but he chose to stay at his post out of a sense of duty—even as Maharaja Hari Singh prepared to leave Kashmir for Jammu.
Local Muslim villagers advised my father to grow a beard so he might pass as Muslim if the infiltrators arrived. His routine was grueling: he rose early for meditation, worked at the hospital, and then traveled on horseback to treat patients in surrounding hamlets. Back in Srinagar, our family had no news of him for months and feared the worst. Yet Guru Maharaj, who loved my father like a son, visited our home daily to reassure my mother and siblings that he would return safe and sound.
The situation in the village grew precarious when a local Maulana began pressuring my father to attend the mosque, claiming all local Hindus had converted. My father plainly replied that he was not a local resident and was under no obligation to follow suit. When the pestering became daily, my father left for a nearby village to seek refuge with a Hindu saint. However, the saint advised him to return. Upon his arrival back at the village boundary, elderly villagers gathered to welcome him and firmly told the Maulana to leave him in peace.
As the Kabalis drew closer, my father entrusted his valuable belongings to a Muslim hospital orderly, with the understanding that they would be returned if all ended well. As the orderly carried two suitcases home, my father quietly followed at a distance and overheard him pray: "My Allah, grant me the opportunity to return these goods to their rightful owner." Hearing this, my father slipped away, reassured. True to his word, the orderly later returned everything intact.
When the infiltrators finally entered the village, they were furious after being misdirected away from Srinagar by Maqbool Sherwani in Baramulla. Local Muslims presented my father to them as a newly converted Muslim to protect him. The infiltrators demanded "sweet medicine," which my father provided, after which they moved on toward Srinagar. Shortly thereafter, the Indian Army arrived following Maharaja Hari Singh’s signing of the Instrument of Accession, securing the valley.
My father later on reunited with his family in Srinagar without prior notice—safe, healthy, and with all his belongings , and was awarded a letter of appreciation, two advance increments, and a permanent transfer back home for his steadfast duty during the crisis. He preserved that appreciation letter until we were forced to leave the valley in 1990.
Professional Life and Medical Practice
Serving as a country doctor in remote regions long before medical specialization existed required my father to handle every imaginable emergency without modern diagnostics. Diseases had to be identified purely through clinical observation and sharp intellect. Despite these limitations, the profession was driven by service rather than commercial gain. A doctor had to act as a physician, surgeon, gynecologist, pediatrician, and orthopedist all at once.
On one occasion, a Gujjar woman was brought to the hospital bleeding profusely from her head. Her scalp and skull were fractured, with brain tissue protruding through her split hair plaits. It emerged that while collecting firewood in the jungle, she had been attacked by a man; though she managed to break free, he hurled an axe at her head. With limited resources, my father and his attendant carefully cleaned the area, repositioned the skull bones, stitched the scalp, and discharged her, as the facility lacked inpatient beds. To everyone's astonishment, she made a full recovery. Treating villagers mauled by bears or leopards was also common, often drawing crowds outside the hospital gates during surgery.
Beyond hospital hours, my father traveled on horseback or by tonga to visit bedridden patients in far-off villages without charging extra fees, while medicines were provided free by the government hospital.
However, rural service carried unforeseen risks. While my father was away attending an emergency call five kilometers out, a man with a abdominal stab wound was brought to the hospital. The assistant on duty stitched the wound and discharged the patient, who tragically died on his way home. During the subsequent murder trial, the judge granted the accused the benefit of the doubt, reasoning that the victim might have survived had a qualified doctor treated him. The charge was reduced to attempted murder, and my father was held accountable for neglect of duty despite being away on official house calls. Taking the service constraints into account, the authorities dealt with the matter leniently, halting his increments for two years.
Retirement and Spiritual Legacy
After retiring at age 55 as In-Charge of the Khrew Allopathic Dispensary, my father opened a modest medical shop near his residence at Purshyar in Srinagar. Driven by his spiritual values, he provided low-cost or free treatment to the poor, turning his shop not into a commercial venture, but a service hub and a gathering place for friends and scholars.
Renowned figures like Pt. Janki Nath Kaul 'Kamal', Pt. Niranjan Nath Karihaloo (Director of the Sericulture Department), and Pt. Kanth Ram (Headmaster of the Mission School) met there daily to engage in religious and literary discourses. Pt. Janki Nath Kaul even cited my father and their discussions in several of his books. In quiet moments between patients, my father could always be found immersed in scripture.
My father lived the teachings of the Shrimad Bhagavad Gita, serving as a living embodiment of Nishkam Karma—selfless action without attachment to outcomes. Though he was a man of modest means rather than wealth, he practiced philanthropy within his capability, treating his work as an offering to the Divine.
He led a deeply fulfilled life, providing comfortably for his family while remaining unattached to worldly ambitions. His true legacy—one of goodwill, high moral character, and spiritual insight—is worth trillions, standing as a lasting source of pride for his descendants.
