Wintering Over

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

Staying in Srinagar

Winter in Srinagar that year was remembered for its sharp cold and deep snow, when the city and surrounding valley slowed under freezing nights through the long, hard stretch of those months. Power came and went without ceremony, and frozen pipes were a persistent, cheerless companion to the season.

We lived in Inglenook the UN HQ house in Srinagar through the winter months while the headquarters of UNMOGIP migrated south to Rawalpindi for the winter, as it did each year. The absence of colleagues left a quiet gap, yet there was consolation: my husband was no longer pulled away to distant field stations, and was simply home.

 
The weather was cold and bleak most of the time but there were days when the skies were clear, the mountain air sharp. Tourists had largely deserted the valley. But one steadfast figure remained: an elderly English gentleman who had been living in Srinagar since the days of the Raj. Stanley was a living thread back to another era, and we were glad of his company over shared meals. We listened as he remembered his younger days in a city that had changed beyond all recognition and yet, in certain lights, had not changed at all.

Winter view - Looking outward over the wall of the UN compound

Guards keeping watch when disturbance threatened

The Kashmiri people had their own answer to the cold. Beneath their pherans, the long, loose woollen cloaks that fell to the knee, they carried a kangri (1): an earthenware pot cradled in a wicker basket, glowing within with embers and charcoal. It was a personal hearth, carried close to the body through the long cold hours. These three chaps on the side of the road are crouched over their kangris.

Keeping warm by the roadside

Winter wanderings in the bazaar

Bazaars were treasure houses in their own right. Merchants displayed trays of precious and semi-precious stones that caught what light there was and gave it back in colours far too vivid for such a grey season. We filled many of our quieter hours wandering those stalls, turning stones over in our fingers, learning their names and their characters.

Roshangar was the respected silver merchant. Many had bought traditional silver tea and coffee pot sets from him, we were drawn instead to jewellery. Silver was the natural setting for stones, and one could browse unhurriedly, then choose or commission exactly the piece one wished made.

I came home with three matching sets of bracelet, ring and earrings: garnets, amethysts, and moonstones, each mounted in silver. I also acquired a silver bangle which is a favourite I continue to wear. We also collected gemstones in various shapes, colours and sizes: a small, glittering archive of those bazaar afternoons, of colour and quiet pleasure.

A Game for fair Weather

On milder days I made my way to the golf club, where Gulam was a most agreeable coach and caddy. His charges were modest, his patience considerable, and over those hours I developed a modest competence with a club. One afternoon the sleet began to fall in earnest so I gathered my things and headed back to the warmth of Inglenook. It was definitely not a day to stay out on the course.

In the middle of those winter months came a welcome interlude: our trip to Delhi for the Republic Day Parade, which offered a breath of warmer air and the particular thrill of ceremony and colour after weeks of grey cold.

Spring came slowly to the valley, tentative at first, then more confident, the skies brightening by degrees. With it came the knowledge that our return to Australia was drawing near. We would not miss the cold, but take with us the memories made, and Stanley’s stories of a Srinagar long past.

It was time to plan our homeward journey.

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1. Kangri the dilemma of the Kashmiri portable heater: https://garlandmag.com/article/kangri-the-dilemma-of-the-kashmiri-portable-heater/

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