KASHMIR
DESCRIBED BY
Sir FRANCIS YOUNGHUSBAND, K.C.I.E.
PAINTED BY
Major E. MOLYNEUX, D.S.O.
LONDON
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK
1911
First published September 1909
Reprinted August 1911
TO
HIS HIGHNESS
MAJOR-GENERAL MAHARAJA SIR PRATAP SINGH
G.C.S.I.
MAHARAJA OF JAMMU AND KASHMIR
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED
IN RECOGNITION OF MUCH HOSPITALITY AND IN TOKEN OF
A FRIENDSHIP OF MANY YEARS
PREFACE
When Major Molyneux asked me to combine with him in the production of a book on Kashmir I could not resist the temptation to describe what he had so faithfully depicted, though my official duties naturally leave me insufficient time to do real justice to the theme. I have not been able to write with the completeness that I should have wished; and I am aware of many sins of omission. I can only hope that when the description fails the reader will be fortunate to have his attention irresistibly diverted to one or other of my collaborator's beautiful pictures.
The Residency, Srinagar,
September 1908.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
Scenery and Seasons
Bernier's impression of Kashmir in 1665—Comparison of Kashmir and Switzerland—The road in—First signs of spring—Srinagar in March—A start for Shikar—Shikaris—Forest-clad hill-sides—Signs of stag—View over the valley—Rosy mountains—Unrealised beauties—A duck-shoot—The view from Hokrar—Harwan in spring—Varying beauties of Kashmir—Harwan in May—Clouds on the mountains—A Kashmir village—Irises and roses—Trout-culture—A trout stream—Srinagar in April—The view from Gupkar—A spring scene—Unusual rain—The Nishat Bagh—Pandrathan—Srinagar in summer—The valley in September—The end of the monsoon—The gorgeous autumn—A Hokrar duck-shoot—The valley in winter—Shikaris—Shooting in winter 1
CHAPTER II
Travel in Kashmir
Travel in old times—My first entrance—My old retainer—Present modes of travel—Stages from the railway—Srinagar house-boats—Srinagar shops—Expeditions from Srinagar—The descent from the Tragbal 47
CHAPTER III
Srinagar and Neighbourhood
An old capital—The Maharaja's arrival—Procession through the city—The European quarter—The Jama Masjid—Shah Hamadan—Dr. Neve's Hospital—The Takht-i-Suliman—Pandrathan—The Dal Lake—The Nasim Bagh—The Shalimar Bagh—The Nishat Bagh—Parihasapura 63
CHAPTER IV
The Residency Garden
The first week in March—Fruit trees in bloom—Kashmir tulips—Golden orioles—Roses in May—Strawberries—Burbank's Delphiniums—The height of summer—The garden in autumn—Autumnal colours 87
CHAPTER V
Gulmarg
The "Meadow of Flowers"—Its numerous attractions—Views over the valley—Flowers—Nanga Parbat 98
CHAPTER VI
The Valleys and Places of Interest
The Sind Valley—Gangabal Lake—The Lolab—The Lidar Valley—Martand—Achibal 108
CHAPTER VII
Sport
Game Preservation—The year's bag—Duck-shooting—Fishing 118
CHAPTER VIII
The People
Kashmir beauties—The Pundits—Mohamedans—The Quadiani sect—Kashmiri villagers—Boatmen 125
CHAPTER IX
The History of Kashmir
Possible effect of natural beauty—Ancient ruins—Martand—Greek influence—Buddhist influence—Kanishka—Lalitaditya—Avantivarman—Short reigns—Internal struggles—Perpetual intrigue—Advent of Mohamedans—Zain-ul-ab-ul-din—Akbar—The Moghals—Afghan oppressors—Sikhs—Rise of Gulab Singh—Break-up of Sikhs—Gulab Singh and the British—Treaty of 1846—Gulab Singh acquires Kashmir—Its deplorable state—Ranbir Singh—Country still depressed—Famine of 1877—Improvements during present reign133
CHAPTER X
Administration
System of rule—Personal—Sources of revenue—Land revenue assessment183
CHAPTER XI
Products and Manufactures
Wool—Silk—Fruit—Rice—Other grains—Experimental farm—Soil—Implements—Forests—Mineral products—Shawls—Carpets—Silk—Papier-mâché—Puttoo—Boat-building—Trade194
CHAPTER XII
The Electrical Scheme
Water-power turned to electric power—The Jhelum River harnessed—The flume—The
CHAPTER XIII
The Peaks and Mountain Ranges
The Peak K2—Errors in observation—Nanga Parbat—Rocks of great peaks—The Himalayan range234
CHAPTER XIV
The Story of the Mountains
Interest of study—Kashmir under the sea—100,000,000 years ago—Kashmir an archipelago—Finally upheaved—Cause of upheaval—History of life—At first no land life—Ferns—The Coal Measures—Great reptiles—Mammals—Kashmir valley a lake—Appearance of man—Reflections on the story—Need to look forward—Creating higher man251
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
By MAJOR E. MOLYNEUX, D.S.O.
PAGE 1. Wild Rhododendrons Frontispiece 2. Approach to Srinagar 2 3. The Land of Roses 4 4. Mouth of the Sind Valley 6 5. Sunset on the Wular Lake 8 6. Dawn in the Nulla 10 7. Kotwal from the Forest above Kangan, Sind Valley 12 8. Above the Camping-Ground, Sonamarg, Sind Valley 14 9. The Kajnag from Sopur, Early Spring 16 10. Kotwal from near the Dal Darwaza 18 11. The Lull before the Storm, Dal Lake 20 12. Above Lidarwat, Lidar Valley 22 13. Sunset on the Jhelum, above Srinagar 24 14. Spring in Kashmir 26 15. On the Dal Lake in Spring 28 16. Entrance to the Mar Canal 32 17. The Temple, Chenar Bagh 34 18. Ruins of Lalla Rookh's Gardens, Lake Manasbal 36 19. A Ladaki in Summer Costume 52 20. The Valley of Gurais 62 21. Market Boats on the Mar Canal, Srinagar 64 22. Above the Fifth Bridge, Srinagar 66 23. Shawl Merchants' Shops, Third Bridge, Srinagar 68 24. Mosque of Shah Hamadan, Srinagar 70 25. A Hindu Temple, Srinagar 72 26. In the Mar Canal, SrinagarSketch Map of Kashmir at end of Volume.
KASHMIR
CHAPTER I
SCENERY AND SEASONS
Bernier, the first European to enter Kashmir, writing in 1665, says: "In truth, the kingdom surpasses in beauty all that my warmest imagination had anticipated." This impression is not universally felt, for one of the very latest writers on Kashmir speaks of it as overrated, and calls the contour of the mountains commonplace and comparable to a second-rate Tyrolean valley. And fortunate it is that in this limited earth of ours we every one of us do not think alike. But I have seen many visitors to Kashmir, and my experience is that the bulk of them are of the same view as the above-mentioned Frenchman. They have read in books, and they have heard from friends, glowing descriptions of the country; but the reality has, with most, exceeded the expectation. Some have found the expenses of living and the discomforts of travel greater than they had expected. And some have arrived when it was raining or cloudy, and the snows were not visible; or in the middle of summer when the valley is hazy, steamy, and filled with mosquitoes. But when the clouds have rolled by, the haze lifted, and a real Kashmir spring or autumn day disclosed itself, the heart of the hardest visitor melteth and he becomes as Bernier.
The present book will deal, not with the whole Kashmir State, which includes many outlying provinces, but with Kashmir Proper, with the world-renowned valley of Kashmir, a saucer-shaped vale with a length of 84 miles, a breadth of 20 to 25 miles, and a mean height of 5600 feet above sea-level, set in the very heart of the Himalaya, and corresponding in latitude to Damascus, to Fez in Morocco, and to South Carolina.
APPROACH TO SRINAGAR
The country with which one is most apt to compare it is, naturally, Switzerland. And Switzerland, indeed, has many charms, and a combination of lake and mountain in which, I think, it excels Kashmir. But it is built on a smaller scale. There is not the same wide sweep of snow-clad mountains. There is no place where one can see a complete circle of snowy mountains surrounding a plain of anything like the length and breadth of the Kashmir valley, for the main valleys of Switzerland are like the side valleys of Kashmir. And above everything there is not behind Switzerland what there is at the back of Kashmir, and visible in glimpses from the southern side,—a region of stupendous mountains surpassing every other in the world.
By these Himalayan regions only, by the mountains of Baltistan and Hunza, and by those unequalled mountains seen from Darjiling, can Kashmir be excelled. There indeed one sees mountain majesty and sublimity at their very zenith. And with such as these Kashmir cannot compare. But it possesses a combination of quiet loveliness and mountain grandeur which has a fascination all its own. If one could imagine the smiling, peaceful Thames valley with a girdle of snowy mountains, he would have the nearest approach to a true idea of Kashmir it is possible to give. He would not expect the stern ruggedness and almost overwhelming majesty of the mighty mountains beyond Kashmir. But he would have the tranquil beauty and genial loveliness which to some are even preferable.
Of this, my collaborator's pictures will give a true and vivid impression, though every artist allows that it is impossible to give in a single picture the broad general effect of those wide-flung landscapes and of the snowy ranges stretching from one horizon to another. For that impression and for the varying effect of spring and autumn, of winter and summer, dependence must be on the pen alone.
Which is the most lovely season each must decide for himself. In the spring we think the spring the most exquisitely beautiful. In the autumn we say that nothing could exceed the charm of the brilliant autumn tints. But as it is in the spring that most visitors first arrive, and as it is the real beginning of the year, there will be some advantage in commencing in that season the delicate task of describing Kashmir.
In the first week in March I drove into Kashmir,—this last year, fortunately, in fine weather. In other years at this season I might not have been so fortunate, and the reader must take this possibility of drenching rain, of muddy roads, and dangerous landslips into account. For that purpose, however, there is no need to offer aid to his imagination, as rainy days are much the same all the world over.
THE LAND OF ROSES
The long drive from the Railway Station at Rawal Pindi, 196 miles from Srinagar, was nearly ended. We had steadily ascended the valley of the Jhelum, with the river continually dashing past us on the left, a strong impetuous stream now being turned to useful ends, firstly, in generating electric power near Rampur, and secondly, in irrigating millions of acres in the plains of the Punjab below. We had passed through the peaceful deodar forest on either side of Rampur, and the splendid limestone cliffs which rise precipitously from them. Just beyond we had passed massive ruins of the so-called Buddhist, but really Hindu temple, dating about 700 a.d. All the country had been blanketed with snow; the hill-sides forested with thousands of Christmas trees glistening in the brilliant sunshine, and the frozen road had been rattling under the ponies' feet. When gradually the narrow valley opened out. The enclosing hills widened apart. The river from a rushing torrent became as placid as the Thames, with numerous long-prowed boats gliding smoothly downward. The little town of Baramula, and the first distinctive chalet-like, but dirty, shaky habitations of Kashmir; a graceful Hindu temple; fine specimens of the famous chenar trees; and a typical log bridge, came into view; and then, as the hill-sides finally parted asunder, the glorious valley itself—a valley on so extensive a scale as really to be a plain amidst the mountains—was disclosed; and faintly mingling with the cloudless azure of the sky, on the far side stretched the great range of snowy mountains which bound Kashmir on the north, with the Haramokh peak, 16,900 feet high, standing boldly out 35 miles distant immediately in front; and from just beyond Baramula even Nanga Parbat itself, 26,600 feet, and 70 miles distant, towering nobly over the lower ranges, the solitary representative of the many mountain giants which lay behind.
Then as we emerged into the open valley the snow disappeared and the first faint signs of spring were visible. All the trees were indeed still bare. Neither on the massive chenar nor on the long lines of poplars which bordered the road continuously from Baramula to Srinagar was there a vestige of a leaf; and all the grass was absolutely brown. But in the willows there was just the suspicion of yellow-green. The little leaf-buds were just preparing to burst. On the ground were frequent masses of yellow crocuses and familiar bluebells. Here and there were clumps of violets. Occasionally a tortoise-shell or cabbage-white butterfly would flutter by. Above all, the glorious brilliant sunshine, the open, clear blue sky, and the soft touch and gentle feel which at noonday replaced the crisp, frosty nip of the morning air gave certain promise of the approach of spring.
MOUTH OF THE SIND VALLEY
Again, when at length Srinagar, the capital of Kashmir, was reached, and I was back in my much-loved garden, still other signs of spring's arrival were evident. Violets, pansies, wallflowers, narcissus, crocuses, and daisies were out. A few green blades were showing through the brown grass. Rose leaf-buds were bursting. In one garden near a few apricot blossoms had actually bloomed. And the whole garden was filled with the spring song of the birds lightly turning to thoughts of love—thrushes, minas, sparrows, blue-tits, hoopoes, starlings; bold, familiar crows, and, most delightful of them all, the charming little bulbuls with their coquettish top-knots—the friendly little beings who come confidingly in at the windows and perch on the curtain rails or chairs, and even on the table to peck sugar from the basin.
And so for many days the weather continued, the temperature a degree or two below freezing-point at night, and rising to a maximum of 55° in the shade and 105° in the sun in the day-time. Day after day cloudlessly clear. The snowy ranges standing out sharp and distinct. The nearer mountains still covered with snow to within a thousand or two feet of the valley level. In the early morning all the valley-bottom glistening silvery-white with hoar frost. Then towards noon a curious struggle between summer and winter. The aspect of the country outside the garden entirely winter—leafless trees and frost-withered grass; but in the still air the sun's rays, with daily increasing power, having all the warmth of an early summer day in England; and under the noonday sun the mountains fading in a dreamy haze.
Then, of a sudden, came one of those complete and rapid changes which so enhance the charm of Kashmir. Dark ominous clouds settled on the near mountain-tops; here and there sweeping along their summits whirling snowstorms were driven along; the distant snows showed up with that steel-grey definition which in storm-ridden days replaces the dreamy indistinctness of more sunny times; now and then a glinting sun-ray breaking through the driving clouds would brighten up some solitary peak; and in the valley bottom periods of threatening stillness would alternate with gusty bursts of wind.
SUNSET ON THE WULAR LAKE
Such signs are usually the presage of unpleasant weather. But in the present case rain did not fall; and this was fortunate, for I had gone into camp to shoot a bara-singh, the famous Kashmir stag. Rising at four on the following morning, and, as soon as I had had a hurried breakfast, mounting a shaggy, naughty little pony captured in the fighting in Tibet, I followed the shadowy form of a shikari bestriding a still more diminutive country pony. Most of the clouds of the previous day had disappeared. The wind had died down, and the stars were shining out with that clear brilliance only seen amidst the mountains and in the desert. There was a sharp, bracing feeling in the air—not the same stinging cold I had felt when riding along this road at night in January, but strong and invigorating. We stumbled along on our ponies across fields and by paths which only a native could detect. At each village dogs howled dismally at us, but not a soul was astir. We gradually approached the dark outlines of the mountains, and near their base, while it was still pitch dark, we were joined by other shikaris who, like stage conspirators and with bated breath, explained where a stag had been seen on the previous day. I had then to dismount and walk; steadily and silently we ascended the mountain-side, and by sunrise were 3000 feet above the valley. The shikaris were now visible, and like their class hard and keen-looking, clearly used to living on mountain-sides in cold and heat, and to be ever peering into distances. The head shikari was a grey, grizzled, old-looking man, though I daresay he was really not over fifty; hard and tough, and very grave and earnest—for to him all else in the world is play, and shikar is man's real work in life. Residents, no doubt, have some employments to amuse themselves with in ordinary times; but when the real business of life has to be done they come to him, and he takes them gently in hand like little children, and shows them the haunts of the Kashmir stag, his habits, where he wanders, and how to pursue
DAWN IN THE NULLA
So now I put myself humbly in charge of the shikaris, for I make no pretence to be a sportsman. They thereupon proceed to whisper together with profound earnestness and dramatic action. They point out the exact spot where, on the previous afternoon, a stag was seen. They pick up little tufts of his hair brushed off, as they say, in fighting. They show his footsteps in the soft soil and on patches of snow. And they are full of marvellous conjectures as to where he can have gone. But gone he has, and that was the main fact which no amount of whispering could get over.
So on we went along the mountain-side, and now through deep snow, for we were on a northward-facing slope of an outlying spur—and all slopes which face northward are wooded, while southward-facing slopes are bare. The explanation was evident. For on the latter slopes the sun's rays fell directly and almost at right angles, and in consequence fallen snow quickly disappears: while on the northern slopes the sun's rays only slant across the surface; the snow remains much longer; the moisture in the soil is retained; vegetation flourishes; trees grow up; they in their turn still further shade the snow, and with their roots retain the moisture. And so as a net result one side of a mountain is clothed in dense forest, and on the other there may not be a single tree. Thus it is that on the southern side of Kashmir, that is, on the northward-facing slopes of the Pir Panjal range, there is, as at Gulmarg, dense and continuous forest, while on the northern side of the valley, on the slope of the hill that consequently faces southward, there is no forest except on the slopes of those subsidiary spurs which face northward.
We followed the tracks of the stag through this patch of forest, mostly of hazels, the shikaris pointing out where the stag had nibbled off the young leaf-buds and bark which seem to form the staple food of the deer at this time of year. At last we came to another shikari who said he had seen the stag that very morning. But I suspect this was merely a form of politeness to reinspire my lagging hope, for though I went down and up and along the mountain-side, and spent the whole day there, I saw no stag. Once we heard a rustling among the leaves, and hope revived, but it was merely a troop of monkeys. A little later a boar shuffled out; and again, on a distant spur, disporting himself in the sunshine, we saw a bear; but no stag.