Return of the Native

After six years of nostalgic memories I finally returned to Kashmir. The first thing that struck me about the region was its astounding natural beauty. In Srinigar, I made local visits to the beautifully terraced Mughal gardens Cheshmashahi, Nishat and Shalimar and enjoyed the panoramic views from Pari Mahal. The newly opened botanical gardens and Harvan gardens were also favourite haunts for afternoon relaxation. Once I travelled through Dachigam, a 141km² National Park, in search of leopards and bears stopping for tea in the charmingly landscaped gardens of a trout farm. The evenings were spent watching the sunset over Dal Lake sometimes reclining in a shikara or maybe indulging in a roadside corn-on-the-cob.

During the day, I went by shikara to explore the life on Dal Lake, travelling through the marshland, lotus fields and experiencing the bustle and commerce of the floating villages. The lake was lined by majestic houseboats, the legacy of British Imperialism. In daytime, I saw the intricate woodwork and detailed carvings of the houseboats, while at night I watched the lake lit up by the twinkling of thousands of twinkling fairy lights. The Dal seemed a town in itself with children playing in the water and small rowing boats selling hot snacks, ice cream and assorted goods constantly on the move. With its fantastic views of the landscape it is no wonder why locals gather on the banks for picnics or hot kanti.

During my second week in Kashmir, I travelled away from the hustle and bustle of Srinagar to three particularly memorable places: Sonamarg, Gulmarg and Pahalgam. In Sonamarg, for a day I lived the life of Kashmiri gujjar (nomad) travelling through the desolate mountains and hop-scotching streams in search of the Thajwal glacier. Sonamarg seemed almost untouched by man; the land was sprinkled with flocks of sheep with the occasional bakarwhall (shepherd) wearing his customary pheran (long winter garment) and kangri (earthen pot filled with charcoal contained in a wicker basket). In Gulmarg, at 7500 feet above sea level, I travelled on horseback through meadows nestled between the Peerpanchal mountain range. But of all places, Pahalgam touched me the most. Here I journeyed amid awe-inspiring scenery with streams, cascading waterfalls, meadows and mountains to Chandanwari village and finally to Aru.

Kashmiri culture can be seen everywhere. Carpets, shawls and hand-painted paper-mâché are especially prominent. During my visit to Old Srinagar, I enjoyed a privileged door-to-door driven tour of the whole process behind paper-mâché and shawl making. At the end, I was honoured with noon-chai (a traditional salt tea), parantha and chaval roti at the home of a world renowned embroiderer.

Kashmiri food is unrivalled in its variety. I had the pleasure of sampling a wazwaan, a popular Kashmiri feast that occurs at celebrations. Live animals are slaughtered in the open and the grounding of spices and preparation of meat are carried out by a family of wazas (cooks) with fire, stone and copperware. Approximately 50 dishes are served periodically by the wazas with dodarus (a lamb dish cooked in a sweet milk sauce) and gushtaba (a symbolic full stop to the end of the feast) being some of my favourites. I drank noon-chai and kahawa regularly and prematurely tasted harisa, a winter sweetmeat dish completely unique to Kashmir.

One of the fundamental aims of my trip was to establish links with an academic institution in Kashmir in association with the recently established Cambridge University Kashmir Society. In my first week I visited Tyndale Biscoe Boys' School, the oldest and most prestigious school in Srinagar, and Mallinson Girls' School. After a tour of the schools and discussions regarding future projects with the Principal, Mr Parvez Kaul, and the chief administrator, Mr Rahul Kaul, I was honoured to be a guest at the school’s swimming gala. My second visit to the school involved attending the classes and giving brief interactive presentations to the students about the future objectives of the society and the opportunities for correspondence. Visiting the schools also gave me an invaluable opportunity to network and to obtain future contacts for the society.

When I first set out for Kashmir with this intent it never really occurred to me how such a small step could become so meaningful. At the schools I was flooded by curious children eager to know more about the West and how I perceived Kashmir. One of the major reasons why I co-founded Cambridge University’s Kashmir Society was because I wanted to portray the region culturally as opposed to politically. In Kashmir, although the military presence is undeniable and even reading the daily death toll in local newspapers is a clear indicator that the ‘Kashmir Issue’ is far from resolved Summer 2003 was apparently the best year for internal tourists, particularly Hindu pilgrims. However, in spite of the enduring loveliness of the Valley, sadly the land remains largely unexplored by international tourists.

My visit to just one of the many orphanages in Kashmir was enough to remind me painfully of the tragic costs of the conflict. Every family in Kashmir has known some loss. Establishing these primary links with schools and orphanages may only be a tiny step in an ultimate objective of harmonisation and peace, but in Kashmir I finally learnt that even these seemingly negligible gestures can have a truly heart-warming strength.