Lakes and Lambrettas

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

Life on the Lakes

The tourist in us, enjoyed the tranquility offered by richly adorned houseboats rocking gently on waters.

For the local trader the lake was a source of income as he plied his trade amongst the houseboats. Others passed by on their own errands, each vessel carving a brief ripple before the surface smoothed again. Above, the sunshine fell; below, its shadows shimmered in the water, and the whole scene took on a sense of timeless charm that no photograph quite captures. This blurry photo hardly does justice to one of the many scenes we observed.

Shikaras - a play of light and shadow on the lake

Looking out across the lake to houseboats framed by the mountains

Reed gatherers with view across the lake to the palace high on the hill

Those who tended the floating and lakeside gardens were well aware of their immense value to the local economy. It was a pleasure to watch them at work, carefully tending a remarkable variety of plants in those tranquil surroundings, a way of life as old as the lake itself.

1979 - Vegetable gardens at the edge of the lake

Lots of Lambrettas

Scooters weaved in and out of the traffic. For many households, a scooter was not just a vehicle but part of everyday family life. They were used for commuting, carrying shopping and visiting relatives. It was a practical answer to crowded streets, modest incomes, and the need for reliable family transport.

Among the most familiar names was Lambretta, the Italian brand that found a long life in India through local manufacture and adaptation. 

In 1972, the Indian government bought the machinery of the Milanese factory, creating Scooters India Limited (SIL) in order to produce Lambretta scooters and also Lambro three-wheelers.(1)  

The three-wheeler

These were given a variety of names across the years as models changed and developed. 

We would often see a whole family aboard a scooter, two or three crowded on the seat and one or two children standing either side of the driver. 

1. Lambretta https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lambretta 

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

A Kitchen and the Khyber Pass

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

A Kitchen

The central role that kitchens play in one’s life has me looking back with quiet amusement. This particular kitchen is as much a story of what was absent as what was present.

There was a tap, and a bench. Atop the bench sat a two-ring gas burner, fed by a large bottle stored directly beneath in the open cavity below. We had brought our electric frypan from Australia, and it earned its passage. The water cooler and steel thermos were ours too, practical companions in a setting where nothing could be taken for granted. Tucked between these familiar comforts sat a tin-box oven, modest enough to perch on one of the gas burners should the need arise.

The large kettle occupied the burner as a matter of permanence, always in some stage of being filled, brought to the boil, and set aside to cool. We then stored the water covered, until it cooled and was transferred to the water cooler to provide safe drinking water.

1979 Kitchen in Srinagar - restored from water damaged photo

The broken ceramic tiles that decorated the bench and the kitchen floor were the very same that had cascaded from the bedroom ceiling. They were a feature throughout the apartment.

Rounding the corner, one came to the open shelves and the small, lockable cupboard where dry goods were stored with careful intent. A power transformer sat on the shelf to my left; behind me, another import from home, our small toaster oven, familiar and slightly incongruous in its surroundings. We could use the electrical devices most of the time, but power supply was unreliable and could not always be guaranteed.

 Water damaged photo AI restored 2026

Acting on local advice we employed a houseboy who would help with a variety of tasks. He came recommended as a friend of a well-trained worker which gave us every confidence. What we did not realise was that this young fellow had no prior training. One day when I returned to the kitchen where he had been washing the floor, there he was wiping his wet feet on the curtains. 

He had little English and I only had a few basic local phrases. Yet we managed, through gestures and goodwill, and by the time the summer drew to a close and he left our employ, it seemed reasonable to hope he had gathered several skills that would serve him well.

1980 - Up the Khyber Pass

There is rock to the left, and rock to the right, and low lean thorn between,

And ye may hear a breech-bolt snick where never a man is seen 

Rudyard Kipling - The Ballad of the East and West, 1899

1980 - Khyber Pass road

One does not simply drive the Khyber Pass, one is absorbed by it. After a night in Peshawar, we set out for this long and winding road towards the Afghan border. The road climbs and coils through the Safed Koh range of the Hindu Kush, hemmed by walls of bare rock that shift in colour from pale ochre to deep rust. The Khyber Pass became part of Pakistan following the 1947 partition of India. The summit of the pass lies only 5 km within Pakistan.

The landscape is layered in history. Ancient stone forts rise from ridgelines and valley walls, built and rebuilt by tribes and traders across centuries of commerce, conflict and survival. These were not romantic ruins but scars of many bloody wars fought along this historic pass. We saw unit badges etched into rocks along the way.

The Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan at the end of 1979. The border crossing was closed. 

We saw refugees, barred from entering Pakistan, sitting forlornly on the far side of the crossing, still figures against a turbulent world. They waited with the particular patience of those who have no other choice. 

History in the making witnessed, our descent back to Peshawar left us thoughtful.

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

Jeeps in a variety of situations

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

Jeeps

If there was one vehicle that defined life among the UN observers in those mountain postings, it was the jeep: that tireless, open-sided workhorse that seemed equally at home on a paved road as it did clinging to the edge of a precipice. In 1979, these sturdy machines carried my husband and his colleagues across terrain that would have defeated lesser vehicles and, on occasion, nearly defeated them too.

The drivers on both sides of the line were soldiers stationed in the high mountains.They brought to their work every shade of temperament imaginable, from the carefully measured caution of the prudent to the breathtaking confidence of those who appeared entirely unbothered by a sheer drop to one side.

1979 Skardu field station

Here’s a typical UN jeep in 1979 after arriving at a field station. Open sides, rugged going. This one has made it successfully over rough roads and steep climbs. Rest for the driver and relief for the observer.

Not every encounter on those narrow mountain roads passed without incident. My husband recalls with particular clarity the day two jeeps met head-on along a stretch of road where passing was simply impossible. There was nowhere to go, no room to manoeuvre, and the frustration of one driver spilled over into action. He climbed out and thumped the bonnet of the UN vehicle with his fist, as though the jeep itself were to blame. In the end, of course, someone had to reverse until the road widened enough to allow both vehicles through.  Frustration for both drivers.

1979 A jeep impasse

The Deosai Plateau

High on the Deosai Plateau in Baltistan, one of the most remote and elevated plateaux in the world, the jeeps faced a different kind of test. A photograph from the summer of 1979 shows a UN jeep picking its way across a small bridge in that vast, wind-swept landscape, the sky enormous and blue above the tawny plain.

On the return journey, my husband recalls, the driver took one look at the rickety bridge they had crossed earlier and decided the river itself was the safer option. He drove straight through the water. My husband, exercising what I have always considered excellent judgement, chose to walk across the bridge.

1979 bridge on the Deosai Plateau

Jeep Cherokees

For longer official journeys between Srinagar and Rawalpindi, the larger Jeep Cherokees were brought into service. They were stationed at Headquarters for the use of administrative staff. Solid and imposing, they seemed well suited to the distances involved, though, as we discovered, no vehicle is entirely proof against a Himalayan winter. 

We were travelling in one of these vehicles in winter when it slid to a halt in the snow. The more the driver spun the wheels the deeper the vehicle dug into the snow. My husband climbed out into the cold to push. After considerable effort, the vehicle lurched forward showering him in snow. The driver, perhaps caught up in the relief of the forward motion, simply kept going. From the back seat I called out as urgently as I could manage “Bas, bas, Sahib.” It took a while for the driver to realise he had left my husband behind on that cold snowy road. He eventually paused and waited while my husband caught up on foot and climbed wearily into the vehicle. 

On another occasion with my mother-in-law aboard, we were halted by a very large crowd coming towards us. While we trembled, the driver seemed relatively unperturbed. Indeed, the crowd flowed by either side with the force of the surge rocking the vehicle as they passed. It was a local demonstration underway. We continued our journey relieved to get away.

This last picture shows a summer scene high in the mountains, perhaps a rest break on a long journey. It is easier in summer light to remember the mountain scenery.

Jeep Cherokees in summer, high in the mountains

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