From “It is said” to “I say”: Can A Culture of Hearsay Survive the Age of Evidence?
Dr.Fiaz Maqbool Fazili.
Did you see what happened at the local mosque after Fajr? Let us call him Mir Shaib—a respected member of the mosque committee. He arrived between the Azan and Iqama, sat down and waited for the congregation. He did not offer “Tahiyyat al-Masjid. recommended salutation prayer of two rakats on entering masjid.
After the prayer, a younger man asked politely, “Jan Shaib, why didn’t you offer the two rak‘ahs when you entered?” “I had already prayed Sunnah at home,” he replied. “But Tahiyyat al-Masjid is a separate prayer,” the young man said. “There is a hadith about it.” jan Shaib waved his hand. ““Dapaan,”—it is said it is not necessary.” But where is the evidence?” ““Dapaan,”,” he repeated. “This is what we have always heard.” The young man paused. “Mey Doop—I say otherwise, and I can show you the reference.” The conversation ended there.This small exchange captures a much larger Kashmiri habit: “Dapaan,”— “it is said.” It can carry the weight of collective memory, but sometimes also the weight of authority it has not earned.There is nothing wrong with ““Dapaan,”,” itself. Kashmir has a rich oral tradition. Stories, folklore, family histories and cultural memories have travelled across generations through words such as ““Dapaan,”. Oral history has its own value. The problem begins when “it is said” quietly becomes “it is true.”
When Hearsay Becomes Authority? In everyday conversation, ““Dapaan,”,” can be harmless. Someone says, ““Dapaan,”,” the road will be closed tomorrow.” Fine. Check it.But when the same formula is used for religion, medicine, history, politics, public accusations or someone’s reputation, the stakes change.Who said it? When? On what authority? Was it witnessed? Is there a document? Is there an authentic reference? Can it be independently verified? These are not disrespectful questions. They are the foundations of responsible thinking. Yet in our culture, questioning an elder or an established belief can sometimes be interpreted as arrogance. We confuse respect for a person with unquestioning acceptance of everything that person says.Respect does not require surrendering judgment.
Enter “Mey Doop”- Mey Doop means, in essence, “I say.” It is a very different linguistic posture. ““Dapaan,”,” can pass responsibility to an unnamed collective. Mey Doop puts responsibility back on the speaker. If I say it, I should be prepared to answer: How do you know? That is the real power of Mey Doop. It demands ownership. Imagine another scene.A grandmother tells her granddaughter, “This medicine is dangerous. ““Dapaan,”,”—people say it causes serious problems.”The granddaughter does not dismiss her grandmother. She asks, “Where did you hear that?”
She checks a credible medical source, consults a qualified doctor and discovers that the claim is either incomplete or wrong. She returns and says respectfully: “Mey Doop—I checked it. This is what the evidence says.” That is not rebellion against tradition. It is the evolution of knowledge.
Gen Z Has Changed the Conversation; This is where Generation Z enters the picture.Today’s young people have grown up surrounded by smartphones, search engines, social media, digital archives and instant communication. They have also grown-up watching misinformation spread at astonishing speed. Their instinct is increasingly: “Show me the evidence.” They want authenticity. They want sources. They want validation. They compare accounts, check dates, search original documents and question screenshots and forwarded messages. Sometimes this makes them impatient. Sometimes they can be overly sceptical. But their basic instinct—to verify before accepting—is valuable.
When a young Kashmiri asks an elder, “Where did you hear that?”, it should not automatically be interpreted as disrespect.It may simply be the language of a generation raised in an information ecosystem where nothing is accepted merely because it has been repeated. Authority, for them, is increasingly earned through evidence and transparency.
The WhatsApp Test; Think about how quickly “Dapaan,” travels today. A message appears on WhatsApp: ““Dapaan,” tomorrow all schools will remain closed.” Within minutes it reaches dozens of groups. Someone added a screenshot. Another person says, “My friend in the department confirmed it.”Soon, the rumour(hearsay) has acquired a life of its own. But nobody asks the simplest question:
Where is the original notification? The same happens with political allegations, medical advice, communal rumours and stories about individuals. Repetition creates familiarity; familiarity is then mistaken for truth.The digital age has not killed “Dapaan,”.It has given it wings.A rumour,gossip,hearsay that once travelled from one village to another can now travel across Kashmir in seconds.That is why verification is no longer optional.
Religion Needs References, Not Rumour; This becomes particularly important when discussing religion. Islam is not based on “someone said so.” Matters of religious obligation, prohibition and Sunnah require recognised authentic evidence from hierarchy of resources and proper scholarship. The Quran, authentic Sunnah and established Islamic jurisprudence have their own hierarchy and methodology.One cannot simply declare something haram, bid‘ah, obligatory or impermissible because ““Dapaan,””—someone once said it.If we do not know, the intellectually honest answer is:“I don’t know. Let us ask someone qualified or check the authentic source.” There is dignity in saying I don’t know.In fact, sometimes I don’t know is more truthful than a confident “Dapaan,”.
The Cost of Unverified Claims; The consequences of hearsay are not always trivial. A medical rumour can delay treatment. A false accusation can destroy someone’s reputation. A fabricated political message can inflame public sentiment. A communal rumour can create fear, disharmony or “fitna”.A fake, or Ai photograph can rewrite an event. A deepfake can make an innocent person appear guilty.And a religious claim without evidence can turn cultural practice into religious obligation—or turn a permissible matter into something forbidden.
The question is therefore not whether “Dapaan,” should disappear. It should not. The question is where it belongs and where it does not. Let “Dapaan,” flourish in folklore, storytelling, family memories and oral history. But when it enters matters of public consequence, it should meet its natural companion: “Pramaan kya chhu?” — Where is the evidence? Or simply: “Dapaan,”—verify kariv.” It is said. Now let us verify it.
A Culture of Intellectual Humility; Perhaps the real lesson is not to replace “Dapaan,” with or without “Mey Doop”, but to put responsibility behind both. If I say, “Dapaan,”, I should acknowledge that I am reporting something I have heard—not necessarily something I know. If I say, “Mey Doop”, I should accept responsibility for the claim. And if evidence contradicts me, I should have the humility to change my position. That is not a weakness. That is intellectual honesty. Our elder’s preserve/d knowledge through memory. Today’s generation possesses tools of verification that were unimaginable to them. We should not create a war between the two. We need a bridge.Let the respected elder say, “This is what we heard.” Let the young person ask, “Can we verify it?”Let both sit together and search for the truth. That is how knowledge grows.
From “Dapaan,” to Evidence; Kashmir does not need to abandon its language or its oral traditions. It needs to become more conscious of the difference between memory, opinion, belief and evidence.Perhaps our modern Kashmiri vocabulary needs one small addition: “Dapaan,”—magar pramaan kya chhu? It is said—but where is the evidence? And when we ourselves make a claim:”Mey Doop—magar daleel kya chhu? I say it—but what is my evidence?Generation Z is already asking these questions. We may sometimes dislike their tone, their impatience or their relentless questioning. But perhaps we should listen to the question beneath the question. “Prove it.”In an age of misinformation, that is not disrespect. It is my responsibility.
So, the next time someone ends an argument with “Dapaan,”, don’t ridicule them. Don’t fight them. Simply ask: Who said it? How do you know? What is your source? Can we verify it? And if you cannot verify it, have the courage to say: ““Dapaan,”—verify kariv.” It is said. Now let us find out whether it is true.
