Viva Kashmir!

 

Viva Kashmir!

Scores of tourists are flocking to its beautiful destinations. Srinagar, Gulmarg, Mughal Gardens, Tulip Farms, Pahalgam, mustard seed patches, etc. So beautiful to see all the photographs people are posting on their timelines!

That prompted me to reminisce about a childhood trip to Kashmir. My first visit was in the winter of 1975 during a family vacation with my parents and my brother. It was not only the location of Kashmir but also the adventure of getting there which has left me with priceless memories.

If there was a competition for being on time or early, hands-down, my father would win first place! He was lucky to have a patient wife who played along to his tunes. The first demand on the trip? To reach the station an hour before the train arrives. Mind you, this was a narrow-gauge Nilgiri railway line – a small little train that took forever to reach anywhere. Well, try saying that to my father! There he was with his wife, two kids, and tons of large leather suitcases with cloth covers and buckles on the platform nice and early. Was he there early to wait for the train, or to chat with the Station Master who was his friend? Anyway, we kids didn’t mind. We had plenty of new spaces to play in without getting into trouble. The Station Master was a friendly, small-framed man with a receding hairline who took the time to explain what the different lights and buttons meant and even let me hold the green flag and wave it! Boy! Was I happy!

Chug chug went the slow little blue train on its narrow tracks all the way to Mettupalayam. From Mettupalayam it was the big train on the broad gauge that took us into Madras. While we waited in the compartment at Mettupalayam station, a large majestic steam engine came and stopped exactly where our compartment was. Our father took us to the door to show us its engine and how it worked (Steam engines were still in operation in those days). Awestruck I stood watching the fireman put spade after spade of coal into the huge firebox with red ember oozing from the boiler creating a solid wall of glowing red smoke, radiating heat out into the engine floor.

It was Diwali when we reached Madras (now Chennai), a celebration where everyone comes together to enjoy and be merry. What a wonderful sight it was to see everyone dressed in beautiful, colorful clothes and to see all the roads, walls, house verandas, etc sparkling with lights!

After a few days in Madras, off we went on the Grand Trunk Express to Delhi. We had our own coupe in the new, First Class compartment with thick, lush curtains draped across the windows. As the train went on a bridge, I ventured out into the corridor to see the view from the window and there came a guy with a black coat and white trousers holding a large clipboard in his hand. Engrossed in my vision of the water below I didn’t notice that he was standing right next to me.

“Enna Lilliputte nee enga poren?” (“What Lilliput, where are you going?” in Tamil) he inquired in his loud, gruff voice. Lilliput I was for sure, a teeny little thing in a small little frock, and a scaredy cat too! Terrified, I ran back to the coupe and onto my mom’s lap! My father invited this strange man into our coupe and they talked for a long time. “He’s the Ticket Inspector, the man who takes care of all of us in this compartment,” my mother explained, easing my worries.

We reached Delhi around the time when Children’s Day is celebrated. While in Delhi we did a lot of sightseeing, even making a trip to Agra to see the Taj Mahal. From there we proceeded to Jammu on another train. Again, it was a coupe for all four of us in the First Class compartment. However, when we reached the coupe it was occupied by a Punjabi family who declared themselves the “Ramanunni Nairs”!

“The reservation is in our name! That’s our name. This is our coupe,” they insisted. Well, Ramanunni is a very traditional and unique name from Kerala. In fact, ‘Unni’ means “little one” in Malayalam. That was the first time I saw my father with his temper as hot as a volcano, his protective side very visible standing up for his family. Mind you, my father has a short stature, but there he was standing up against a man in a turban who was big-built and maybe 6’4 in height. When the Ticket Inspector showed up, it was obvious that he had taken a bribe from this man as he requested my father (who had made the reservation months ahead) in a low voice to “adjust”. Eight of us in a small coupe for four had to “adjust” in a journey that lasted more than 16 hours! Ticket Inspectors are here to protect us, isn’t that what my mom said a few days ago? You can only imagine how my father reacted at that point! Well, eventually that man had no other choice but to leave with his family. Even though I was a kid and witnessed an unpleasant sight, there was a lesson learnt. Always stand up for what is rightfully yours. Don’t let others bully you to give in to something that they want. Stay strong!

It did dim our cheerful demeanor for some time but we perked up quite quickly and excitedly waited for our next adventure.

The train reached Jammu a few hours late. From Jammu, it was a long bus journey through the snow-covered, winding, slippery, narrow roads up into the Himalayas all the way to Srinagar. We reached Srinagar in the middle of the night. It was frightfully cold and dreary. From the bus station, we took a taxi to our accommodation which was a houseboat on the Dal Lake. When the taxi dropped us off it was pitch dark, so dark and foggy that we could not see the person standing next to us. We saw a few steps in front of us and my brother decided to see where it led to. I followed. Monkey see, monkey do, correct? As soon as he went on the first step, a man in a huge woolen garment called Pheran scooped him up and planted him near my parents. The steps actually led to the freezing cold depths of Dal Lake, but since it was so dark, we could not see the water.

Soon, we spotted a glimpse of a lantern approaching us through the fog and heard the sound of rippling water. It was a small boat that was coming to take us to the houseboat.

We ventured out every day for sightseeing. We saw the Mughal Gardens, Anantnag temple with the pond teeming with fishes that no one would catch or consume, the beautiful snow-covered peaks, and rivers of Pahalgam, and played in the snow in Gulmarg. Kashmir is beautiful even in winter. Poplar trees, and walnut and apple orchards grace the sides of the roads. Beautiful large willow trees adorn the banks of the lake (Willow wood is used to make cricket bats). Fair-skinned beautiful women wearing traditional Kashmiri kasabas and pherans and jewelry go about doing their chores with their cute little children tagging along in their little pherans themselves.

We stayed in Kashmir for almost a week. During one of the days, the friendly young gentleman who was bringing us food and taking care of the houseboat took my brother and me on an adventure. He put us in his small boat and off we went through the winding waterways of Dal Lake! It was indeed a sight to see. People either lived in houses adjacent to the lake or in houseboats. The doors and steps of the houses led directly to the lake. Many of the houses and houseboats had eaves and pillars that were exquisitely carved in wood. Everyone used the water for their needs. All activities happened on the lake. It was like a city on water! Going to the market? Well, the market was on the lake! Going to school? Schools were boats on the lake or on its shore and all the kids went on boats to school. We found the people there to be the most beautiful. Both in and out. Friendly, courteous, loving, amazingly wonderful people!

After a wonderful stay, it was finally time to depart. We reached the bus station to yet another unusual sight! We saw open, lit kerosene lamps under the buses where the gas tanks are located which disturbed my father immensely. When he went and inquired why they were doing so, they said that the diesel in the tanks was so frozen due to the cold that they have to heat it up to start the buses!

My second trip to Kashmir was in the spring of 1989 when my brother was posted in Udhampur. Things had changed tremendously by then. The army and police were everywhere. Srinagar was under strong security. Even though we could take a boat ride on Dal Lake it was not the same.

And from then on for the next 30 years, Kashmir went into the dark ages. It became a safe haven for terrorists. Tourism died, the society was in shambles, anti-India slogans were in everyone’s mouth, a whole community of Hindus was wiped out in the ethnic cleansing on its soil, many ancient temples and centuries-old buildings were destroyed, thousands of lives were lost, the turmoil created scores of refugees fleeing persecution, the income of its people diminished and so much more!

Hence it makes me extremely happy to see so many people enjoy this wonderful land now. Even G-20* meetings will be held in Srinagar this May. Kashmir is finally in good hands with a bright future. Jai Hind!

*The Group of Twenty Countries (G20) is the premier forum for international economic cooperation. It plays an important role in shaping and strengthening global architecture and governance on all major international economic issues.