The Unexpected

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

A Snowy Heart-Stopper

We did not expect to clasp hands and say goodbye to each other as the pilot of the HS748 hauled the plane out of its final approach to Srinagar Airport. 

It was mid-winter, and perhaps communications had been poor, or delayed, or simply overwhelmed by the particular chaos that descends upon mountain airports when snow falls. Perhaps it was just human error. My husband, a military pilot, had flown in the Antarctic just a couple of years earlier, and he understood what hazardous conditions looked like and what it truly meant to abort a landing on late finals. His hand tightened around mine. It was barely two months since an Air New Zealand flight had crashed into Mt Erebus in the Antarctic. 

Here, we were surrounded by snow covered mountains. The plane rallied and roared its way aloft.

The story we were eventually told was both extraordinary and, in its way, entirely of its place and time. The runway was blanketed in snow, and lacking any appropriate working machinery to clear it, the airport authorities had sent out dozens of workers with brooms to sweep it by hand. 

Dozens of men, sweeping a runway, whilst an aircraft circled above.

Needless to say, we landed safely, and we are here to tell the tale, though the memory of that flight has stayed with us.

Poverty

The scenes of poverty were expected, in the way that one prepares oneself intellectually for something one has read about and seen on television. That preparation was wholly insufficient when confronted with the reality.

No amount of foreknowledge softened the sight of a man whose limbs were so completely twisted that his hands and feet met the ground whilst his body faced the sky. He was a figure of such suffering that it cannot be forgotten.

The maimed children seated at the roadsides, small hands outstretched, were a sight that settled somewhere in my mind, and that sight has not left.

Alcohol and the Art of Concealment

Murree beer, served quite openly in the Intercontinental Hotel in Rawalpindi, was unexpected, and not a little incongruous, in a Muslim country.  In 1977, Prime Minister Bhutto  had imposed alcohol prohibition across Pakistan. The law was later amended under President Zia-ul-Haq to permit non-Muslims to consume alcohol. 

More memorable still was a small restaurant tucked somewhere in the winding streets of 'Pindi, where an empty teapot arrived at the table alongside the meal. We were quietly advised that this was the vessel of concealment, that any alcohol would be poured discreetly within it, so that to any passing eye, every table in the room appeared to hold nothing more suspicious than a pot of tea.

An elaborate, good-humoured method for finding a way, even under prohibition, to raise a quiet cup to life.

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1. Murree Beer https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murree_beer 

2. Murree brewery https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Murree_Brewery

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

Trucks, Trains and Taxis

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

Trucks

These workhorses of the roads were dominating and colourful, dodging and weaving through the tightest of spaces. Their highly decorated bodies were covered in a wide variety of patterns and iconography. Their progress was noisy, horns blaring and loud music playing.

1979 - Hajira, Pakistan

The most alarming of all were the log-carriers, often perilously overloaded and sometimes seen with their front wheels bouncing clear of the road as the sheer weight of the cargo overcame the truck’s forward momentum.

Through Srinagar, the trucks would negotiate an ever-shifting obstacle course of bicycles, taxis, and sacred cows that wandered the streets quite unconstrained and entirely unbothered.

Navigating the streets

Trains

The Indian train network first established by the East India company, grew rapidly through colonial times. It is now one of the largest in the world, essential to the daily lives of millions. 

In 1979 we travelled by train from Delhi to Agra. The train journey nowadays is much quicker but our slower trip let us view the villages and activities in the fields at a more sedate pace. The Taj Express slower in those days, took about two and a half hours. 

As the train trundled past the track embankments, the absence of any public facilities for those living nearby was noted. Locals with their backs to the train, exposed rather more bare skin than one might ordinarily expect to encounter or indeed want to see!

Taxis

The small black and gold Morris Minor taxis were part and parcel of our everyday life. No matter where one wanted to go a taxi was always available. Many had no meters, or claimed theirs were broken. Negotiating a fare before setting off was always the sensible course. The larger Ambassador, based on the Morris Oxford, offered a rather more comfortable alternative for longer journeys.

Morris Minor in the bazaar

The Ambassador

The three-wheeled Lambros (tuk-tuks) were everywhere, their great virtue being an ability to squeeze through the narrowest of lanes where no four-wheeled vehicle could follow. We occasionally found this particular advantage somewhat alarming.

The 3 wheeler

The Tanga

These vehicles which had been popular in the past were fast disappearing amongst the motorised traffic.

The covered cart

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

Supplies and Suffering Moses

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

Supplies

Before we packed for our year Kashmir, we were advised by previous Australian military observers about supplies we might need. 

As we would not be eating the local cheeses, we bought several large blocks of Kraft cheddar processed cheese. Yes, that reassuringly indestructible variety that needed no refrigeration, nestled in its blue box and wrapped within in silver alfoil. 

Australia had embraced metric measurements in 1974, so by the time we departed, all food products had been converted; I suspect the blocks we chose were the generous one-kilogram size.

Image from Australian Women's Weekly via Trove

What Australian could live without Vegemite?  Two large jars were added to our growing list, glass jars with metal lids, none of the plastic containers that came later. There was something comforting about those familiar labels, knowing they were tucked in among the luggage somewhere, ready to make even the most foreign of mornings feel a little like home.

Image from Australian Women's Weekly via Trove

Another recommendation was to take enough toilet paper for a full year. How does one even begin to calculate such a thing? Calculate it we did and a carton duly joined the pile. The advice, it turned out, had a rather colourful origin. A Chilean General who had previously commanded the mission had been notorious for appropriating the UN-supplied rolls and dispatching them back to Chile. Beyond the year's supply, we quickly learned the wisdom of tucking a small roll into any bag before venturing out, since this was decidedly not a commodity one could rely upon finding in Kashmiri public spaces.

We bought a short-wave radio so that we might keep a thread of connection to news from home. Our electric frypan proved its worth many times over, and a small toaster oven completed the more practical side of our domestic arrangements. We would rely on the UN PX (Post Exchange) store for other groceries and goods that were not available locally.

For daily provisions, we relied on whatever was available in the local market. Food shopping was best done accompanied by a local. The cherries displayed so enticingly on top of the box were plump, glossy, and perfect. They bore little resemblance to what actually found its way into one's paper bag. It was a lesson learned only once.

Suffering Moses

This merchant had one of the largest emporiums of Kashmiri crafts in Srinagar. Entering into his shop was a delight for the senses. There were four rooms and as one walked deeper into this treasure trove, older and more valuable items could be seen on display. We were surrounded by superb papier mâché, finely carved wooden boxes, exquisite embroidered shawls and so much more. His goods were excellent quality and over time this store on the Bund became a favourite.

The establishment had been founded in 1842, when his ancestor migrated from Persia, bringing with him skilled Persian craftspeople and settling them in the Kashmir Valley. That heritage was everywhere visible. The decorations on papier mâché bowls, and all sorts of small ornamental pieces reflected Persian motifs with a fidelity that spoke of an unbroken tradition. These patterns had travelled across mountain ranges and generations to arrive in Kashmir, and were still vivid in these quiet rooms. The same spirit showed in the walnut-carved boxes and small tables.

In one of many long discussions, he told the tale of being wooed by a large American store. The buyer wanted thousands of articles every month. At that time, every piece was still made entirely by hand, and no honest craftsman could fulfil such a demand without sacrificing the very quality that had prompted the approach in the first place. He had, one gathered, declined with dignity.

String Secured Parcels

This was before the polluting plastic bag had made its way into every corner of our lives. We had baskets and string bags. Purchases were often painstakingly wrapped in brown paper and then secured with endless white string. It was wrapped round and round creating a puzzle to unwind when unwrapping a purchase. Both string and paper served further purposes in an economy where sparse resources were carefully husbanded. 

A timely reminder that things have value beyond their first purpose.

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1. From Persia with Love https://www.newindianexpress.com/magazine/2023/Nov/18/from-persia-with-love-2633500.html

2. The Shop around the corner https://www.livemint.com/Leisure/J91GKgs0QiQwfLDITKV12I/The-shop-around-the-corner.html

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