Inglenook and Indian Republic Day

Living in Kashmir 1979-80: A Year of People, Places and Memories

Inglenook

Within the walled sanctuary of the United Nations compound in Srinagar stood a house called Inglenook, a name that conjured precisely what it promised. An inglenook is that most English of things: a cosy recess beside a fire, a place of shelter and warmth carved out against the cold. And cold, in Srinagar, was no small matter.

During the summer months the house was occupied by the Chief of Mission. Observers and administrators of lesser rank found their own lodgings outside the compound walls, scattered through the city. But when the Himalayan winter descended and the mission retreated to Rawalpindi, it became our destiny to remain in Srinagar and occupy this building. My husband was tasked with maintaining the UN presence with administration and other duties as well as responding to the daily radio communications that kept the mission connected to the wider world. The house was ideally situated next door to the Headquarters building so that even in the heaviest snowfall, work was only a few steps across the yard.

Inglenook - February 1980

Inside, the living room was heated with an old bukhari, a squat coal-fired beast that demanded patience and considerable perseverance before it could be coaxed alight. The fumes, when the coal finally caught, were deeply unpleasant. The chimney had been fitted with a right-angle bend to exit through a side wall. The bedrooms were upstairs, so out the side wall the chimney went. 

The floor was covered in a mustard-coloured carpet of a particular ingenuity: it had two sides, one for summer and one for winter. Before the cold weather set in, the carpet had to be turned, because no amount of care could prevent coal dust from embedding itself into the winter side. It was a ritual of the seasons, as dependable as the first frost.

 

A wooden display unit was fixed to the wall at one end of the room. The leaf portraits mentioned in an earlier post about Framing, are clearly visible on these shelves. We used the shelves to display goods purchased through the summer months along with some books and audiocassettes. 

This was before CDs and digital audio. In our Singapore stop over, we had purchased a large stereo cassette player that came with two detachable speakers. The very latest in audio equipment.

Towards the end of our posting an Indian asked if he could borrow our cassette player for a function at his place. We expected it to be returned, but alas that was not what he had in mind. We returned home without recompense for that piece of equipment.

The lounge room 1980

Locally embroidered cushions were displayed along the lounges.

Indian Republic Day

On the 26th January 1980, Australia Day back home, we were in New Delhi and had the opportunity to attend the Republic Day Parade. The occasion marks the adoption of India's Constitution in 1950 and the country's formal transition to a sovereign democratic republic: a day of considerable national pride.

Along with multitudes of onlookers we headed to the ceremonial route to watch the spectacle. Indeed, it was a memorable spectacle. A full-scale parade unfolded before us, marching contingents in immaculate formation, armoured vehicles rolling in solemn procession and fly-pasts threading the sky overhead. 

Woven throughout it all, there was a vibrant cultural pageant of state tableaux representing every corner of the subcontinent. The variety of military dress, the colourful headdresses, the graceful women in their saris, all of it displayed the remarkable diversity of India's peoples. This was much more than just a military parade. 

Our photos were taken over the heads of all the onlookers in front of us. One photo captures the decorated elephants lumbering along, their heads high above the level of the people. The other is of women wrapped in beautiful saris, a swirl of colour on that January day.

Elephants on parade 1980

1980 Republic Day parade

 

We were three, my husband myself and another of Australia’s observers. None of us had ever been in such a huge crowd. When the parade finished and the crowd started to move, I grabbed the back of my husband’s belt and Paul who was behind me held onto my shoulders. Such was the pressure of the crowd we decided to move like this in order to remain together. Pressed forward as a single unit we were swept  along by the human tide.

We returned to our accommodation exhausted, but well satisfied with our experience.

This post first appeared on earlieryears.blogspot.com by CRGalvin

Houseboats on the Lakes

Living in Kashmir 1979-80: A Year of People, Places and Memories

Houseboats

The British colonials were ever resourceful in escaping the fierce heat of the Indian plains. Each summer, they retreated to higher, cooler climes and nowhere offered quite the same beguiling refuge as Kashmir. Yet the rulers of Kashmir in the 1880s had closed the valley to European land ownership, and so foreign residents and visitors found an elegant solution: they commissioned floating houses. These were modelled on earlier versions of covered boats.

Kashmiri artisans proved themselves masters of their craft, gradually building larger and more comfortable vessels from deodar, the fragrant local cedar that lent each houseboat its distinctive warmth and character. Many grew into substantial structures that rivalled the better hotels for both comfort and service. Interiors were adorned with richly patterned Kashmiri carpets underfoot and exquisite wood carvings overhead.

The houseboats themselves were generously proportioned, typically offering four bedrooms, bathrooms, and a proper dining room. Above, an open deck invited guests to sit in the sun and gaze across the shimmering expanse of the lake, the distant Himalayan peaks on the horizon.

Enjoying the summer sun with friends on the upper deck

During our time in Kashmir, houseboats remained a favourite destination for visitors seeking to experience life on the lakes. We spent one short break on Lake Dal. Meals were included and often when booking a stay, one could not be sure whether we would have the place to ourselves.

  
Unfortunately for one honeymoon couple we were sharing a rental. It was well after we were asleep one night that the dreaded effects of ‘Delhi belly’ set in. The evening meal had passed pleasantly but provided a nasty result. The walls of thin wood, charming in so many respects, offered precious little in the way of sound insulation, and one could only feel the deepest sympathy for the newlyweds.

A wide variety of creative names adorned the houseboats. From our summer photos we have Miss England and below the Princess Alexandra and the Alexandra Palace.

A steady procession of merchants arrived by shikara, each hoping to tempt residents with their wares. There were shikaras laden with fresh vegetables, others piled with craft goods: papier-mâché boxes, embroidered shawls and carved trinkets.

A well remembered visitor was a man known to us as Shining Roses, who glided alongside each morning in a shikara overflowing with the most beautiful blooms. He arrived quietly across the water, and delivered colour and fragrance to one's doorstep.

Times have changed for many houseboat owners but we retain pleasant memories of these elegant vessels.

This post first appeared on earlieryears.blogspot.com by CRGalvin

Golf at Gulmarg and Goats

Living in Kashmir 1979-80: A Year of People, Places and Memories

Gulmarg

Gulmarg sits high in the mountains at an altitude of 2,650 metres, cradled among the peaks of the western Himalayas. The final section of the road from Srinagar wound up a torturous, steep 12-kilometre incline, each bend offered another breathtaking glimpse of the valley below, and another test of nerve for the driver.

We visited Gulmarg twice: once bathed in summer light, and once deep in the hush of winter snow.

Golf in Gulmarg

We set out with Irish friends for a day in the mountains with golf in mind. We were in the Volkswagen Kombi which had been used by the Royal Australian Air Force when they provided air support to the UN for four years until just before our arrival. The Australian observers now had access to this vehicle when they were not on field station. Kombis were not known for performing well on steep inclines, so we breathed a sigh of relief as it surmounted the last climb.

The golf at Gulmarg did not disappoint. At that altitude, the air is thin and sharp, and the backdrop of snow-dusted peaks entirely surreal. The Gulmarg Golf Club is one of the highest in the world.

Summer 1979 - Golf at Gulmarg

After a thoroughly pleasant day in the mountains, the voyage home had a few surprises in store. By the time we reached the outer suburbs of Srinagar, night had long since fallen. Then came that unmistakable sound, a sudden puncture brought the Kombi to a grinding halt.

 
Within minutes, we were surrounded by dozens of curious onlookers, materialising from the darkness with the particular enthusiasm that a stranded vehicle seems to inspire. Then came the discovery that the spare tyre was entirely useless. After much angst a local came to the rescue. He whisked my husband off into the night aboard one of the little three wheeler taxis, clutching the damaged tyre.

 
That left the rest of us sitting in the Kombi as the crowd pressed steadily closer. I am not entirely certain whose idea it was to arm ourselves with a golf club, but it proved a remarkably effective instrument for encouraging the onlookers to maintain a respectful distance. The sight of a golf club wielded with quiet determination, it seems, transcends all language barriers.

Our hero returned eventually, mended tyre in hand, face triumphant. After heartfelt thanks and the appropriate exchange of currency, and the tyre restored to vehicle, we made our way home through the sleeping city.

A winter visit – February 1980

Our second visit to Gulmarg came after the snows had fallen and the mountains had drawn their white blanket close. Where today's visitors find a modern ski field with all the polished trimmings of a resort, the winter of 1979–80 offered something altogether more modest.

February 1980 - The Gulmarg Chairlift

We had skied in Australia, but Gulmarg presented its own particular challenges. There were no downhill skis long enough for my husband's considerable height, and so he was issued with a pair of wooden cross-country skis. Watching him negotiate the slope on those with the focused expression of a man engaged in a silent, personal battle against both gravity and timber was entertaining, until my own inelegant spill on the slope.

Goats

No account of Kashmir would be complete without the goats. They were woven into the very fabric of life there, appearing on cliffsides at improbable angles, as though gravity were merely a suggestion. Their long spiral horns caught the light as they picked their extraordinary way across terrain that would defeat most sensible creatures.

The flocks were also accomplished masters of the road blockage. On more than one occasion, a river of goats would bring the UN jeeps to a standstill. Some goats here were apparently weighing up whether to leap from the nearest precipice, while others simply stared at the offending vehicle and its occupants with mild disdain.

A goat roadblock

The domesticated herd goats produced the ultra-fine, warm wool (pashmina) used to make luxurious shawls. Goat also known as mutton, formed the basis of many meat-based dishes. 

The goat, in Kashmir was mountain acrobat, wool merchant, and a hearty meal. 

This post first appeared on earlieryears.blogspot.com by CRGalvin