hour for evening prayer, the farewell to the sun, since
Vishnuism is only another name for sun-worship, the
A GRACEFUL DRESS
cult of the god of the " million, molten, spears of morn,"
which the Aryans brought with them from their lofty
home in Central Asia, and grafted on the gloomy earth-
worship, still surviving as Shivaism, which they found
among the aborigines.
Here, in this hill state of the North, both faiths
IN CHAMBA 217
still endure side by side ; while even nearer to the hearts
of the primitive hill-men is a still earlier belief, the wor-
ship of the Devas, the demons who inhabit mountain and
stream, and whose temples — small, square, wooden struc-
tures, with conical roofs and rudely carved doors — are
met with everywhere along the line of march, by the
cool waters of many a spring, or, high on a lofty peak,
looking towards the pinnacles of eternal snow where the
gods have their summer home.
No beneficent, joy-giving deities are these Devas, as
one might perhaps imagine from the splendid sites of
some of their temples, but dread divinities whom the
trembling villagers propitiated till within the last fifty
years by human sacrifices, and to whom they still go to
fulfil the wishes nearest their hearts, the desire for a
son or for an abundant harvest. All-powerful they are,
terrible and relentless, incarnations perhaps of the storm-
winds, the bitter cold, the death-shroud of the snow, the
hidden crevasse in the glacier, or the engulfing avalanche,
the great forces of Nature which, in these lonely heights,
baffle continually the strength and will of man.
It was natural that the fair-skinned, high-hearted
Aryans, men of a nobler race, should bring with them
a brighter and more hopeful faith ; for were they not
akin to those others who, going westward and settling
218 KASHMIR
in the fairest country of Europe, gave the world its
ideal forms of beauty — the Apollos and Athenaes, the
Aphrodites and Hermes, and the thousand lovely shapes
whose names are lost, but which still give substance
to our dreams of beauty ?
But the tribe who wandered east and south little
knew the fatal power of the land they went to. Won-
derful and magnificent it must have seemed to them ;
a land whose beauty goes hand in hand with terror, a
grandeur of lofty mountains, of mighty rivers, of seem-
ingly boundless plains of a fertility undreamed of; but
a land where they must have learned the futility of
man ; where the fierce heats and torrential rains, the
sudden pestilences, the climate that saps his strength
and leaves him powerless in the grip of the forces
whose caprice he learns to call Destiny, made them
in the end adopt the dark creed of the Destroyer.
But in Chamba, where Nature is kinder, where a
temperate climate makes life easier, the worship of the
Preserver, Vishnu, is the most followed still.
Through an arched gateway we pass into a paved
enclosure, where six temples stand in a row beneath the
palace wall. The northernmost is the temple of Vishnu.
More than a thousand years ago, in his new capital, the
great and unforgotten Sahil-Varman built this temple,
IN CHAMBA
219
and ever since, at sunset, the same worship has gone on
in this ancient shrine of the Sun.
The brief, grey twilight lingers round the tall grey-
temples standing side by side ; the rich carving which
covers them is blotted out in the gloom, while their form
â– â– â– iKMmnmsHMH
THE OLD TEMPLES OF CHAMBA
alone shows a distinct mass against the pale evening
sky. They are very impressive, these silent temples,
on which the giant circle of mountains looks down,
their height and nearness dwarfing the little town at
their feet.
As the twilight deepens the air vibrates with mysterious
sound, the first drowsy murmur of the temple music. The
22o KASHMIR
priest is already before the altar in the lighted temple,
muttering to himself texts of the ritual. In a small side-
temple, dedicated to a holy man — the religious director of
the great Sahil-Varman — a bell is rung, and at this signal
the whole enclosure wakes to life. The bar is removed
from across the open door, the priest chants aloud his
invocation, in which the worshippers join, a curious
rhythmic cadence, in a plaintive minor key.
The instruments too begin fortissimo, almost drown-
ing the wailing voices with their wild uproar ; the clang
of cymbals, the frenzied ringing of bells, the blare of horns
and trumpets, while the air throbs with the beating of the
great drums outside the temple. These drums are spoils
of war, brought long ago, across a snowy pass, and by
perilous hill-paths, from Kishtwar, where the victorious
army of Chamba camped for six months before returning
with their booty.
While this wild confusion of sound goes on the priest
is burning incense at the altar, and folds of dense, white
smoke float upwards in front of the idol, veiling the
wonderfully human face and the great eyes which, by
some device of the man who made them, seem to persis-
tently ignore the worshippers, seeing instead, with startling
clearness, a grim jest to which mere human vision is
blind.
IN CHAMBA 221
They were cunning artificers in these hills a thousand
years ago, and they fashioned with wonderful skill this
gigantic figure, out of marble brought by the king's son
from the sacred slopes of Mount Abu, many hundred
miles away. Sahil-Varman had ten sons, and he sent
nine of them to bring the marble. They came back with
an enormous block, but when it was being cut a frog was
found embedded in it. This made it impure, and though
parts of it might be used for making smaller deities,
another piece must be brought for the giant image of
Vishnu. So the nine were sent off again, but the Fates
were still against them, for on their way back they were
attacked by overpowering numbers and killed in spite of
their valiant resistance. The king then sent his only
remaining son, who was successful, and returned in safety
with a perfect block for the sculptors. The court in
front of the temple is paved with marble, perhaps from
the first block, gleaming and polished by the feet of
centuries of worshippers.
Suddenly the clamour of the instruments stops, the
clouds of incense clear away, and one can see the
silver with which the carved altar is inlaid, and, high
above it, the huge image, resplendent with gilding and
colour and hung with masses of flowers, close-strung
ropes of narcissus and marigold covering every available
222 KASHMIR
space, and making besides an archway over the figure.
And once again one sees the curious, staring eyes and
the gleam of the diamonds on its brow.
Before the altar the priest raises high above his head a
small lamp, shaped like a lotus-leaf, emblem of the Sun,
and this he revolves slowly seven times from right to left,
the way of the Sun ; while outside, in the marble court,
the worshippers murmur prayers. Then the priest backs
towards the door of the shrine, and, still facing the altar,
the lamp is again slowly circled seven times, at the end
of which he turns to face the entrance and raises the
lamp towards the Garud, the bird of Vishnu which stands
on a pillar outside the temple.
Again a bell is rung, and the priest makes a circuit
of the temple, still going from right to left, and then
takes up his place at the door while he circles the
lamp again seven times. He then advances to the altar
and bows before it, while a bell is rung to show that the
ceremony is over. The worshippers now crowd forward
to the door and prostrate themselves at the threshold,
while a privileged few go inside to say their prayers at the
altar. After this the sacred food which has been offered
to the shrine is distributed among the worshippers, and
the crowd gradually melts away, for night has come and
the rising moon is already lighting up the gilded symbols
IN CHAMBA
223
which crown the temples, the intricate, lacy pattern of the
Sun of Vishnu, and the three-pronged 'trident of the
destroyer, Shiva.
WkL.tik,
ARRIVAL
THE route usually chosen by visitors for reaching
Kashmir is the Jhelum Valley route, a driving-
road entering Kashmir territory at a place called
Kohala, after which it follows the course of the Jhelum
River for about a hundred miles to Baramulla. This is
227
M
228 KASHMIR
the entrance to the Valley of Kashmir, and here the
Jhelum, until now a mountain torrent thundering along
steep gorges, widens out into a broad river, navigable for
about eighty miles. To go by this route you leave the
railway at Rawul Pindi and drive by tonga to Baramulla,
where it can be arranged to have a boat waiting for you,
on which you may begin the leisurely existence character-
istic of one part of Kashmir.
Baramulla will always be marked with a white stone
in my memory, because it was the beginning of many
months of wandering among the beautiful scenes of
Kashmir, as well as for its own charm, its bloom and
freshness, and the delicious coolness and purity of its
mountain air, so welcome a contrast to the fierce heat
of the sun-scorched plains below. When we first saw
Baramulla it was white with blossom and the air was
filled with fragrance, for all its famous apple orchards
were in flower, and pear and peach, apricot and cherry-
blossom, made it a dream of beauty.
We reached it one afternoon in early April, weary
with our long tonga drive — two restless days of jolting
and shaking over one hundred and sixty miles of road,
up hill and down dale. It was the day of Baisakh, the
spring festival of the Hindus, and as we drove along the
last half-mile of poplar-bordered level and turned through
*•
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IN A DOONGA 231
the streets of the little town they were gay with pro-
cessions of holiday-makers, through which our tonga
threaded its way with much tooting on the horn.
Our boat and servants had been engaged for us
through a friend, and were to meet us here.
We were driven up to the gate of the Maharaja's
rest-house on the river bank, which was crowded with
stalwart boatmen, who seemed rather interested in our
arrival and anxious to claim us as passengers. From
them presently emerged a very small, fat, and rosy boy,
who fixed round, inquiring eyes on us, and, without
saying a word, took possession of my sunshade and fell
in behind us.
"Does he belong to us?" I asked, and was told he
was part of our crew. His father now appeared on the
scene, an elderly person with one eye and a short beard
dyed red, clad in a loose white cotton shirt and flapping
overalls of the same material, which seemed somewhat
inadequate for the climate, since it was a cold and cloudy
afternoon. He led us along the river bank, crowded with
boats of all sorts, varying from doongas of many degrees
to the large house-boats in which a pitch of luxury may
be arrived at once undreamed of.
Our humble doonga was distinguished by a general
air of newness and cleanness somewhat lacking in the
232 KASHMIR
others. We had been very urgent about these points
when we wrote to order it, and the result was satisfactory.
The matting on its roof was new and golden yellow, a
contrast to the greys and drabs of the dingy mats on
most of the other boats, and it was gay with muslin
blinds freshly dyed in pale shades of pink and mauve and
scarlet. The one-eyed one, whose name was Rajba (a
name some form of which is given to all those born in
the month of Ramazan), and whom we found was our
skipper, ushered us into his boat with pride, and his wife
rose up from scrubbing the front deck to welcome us.
The boarded floors were dark brown and beautifully
polished, and a carved pattern ran along the gunwale.
Everything seemed absolutely clean, and we quite shared
the skipper's pride in our boat, which we named the
Mirliton, for it was gay and cheap and pretty, and the
strips of colour made by the blinds were very suggestive
of those carnival toys of the Paris boulevards.
The doonga is the boat of the country ; an almost flat-
bottomed wooden hull surmounted by a wooden frame-
work covered with thick mats forming a sort of deck-
house. These were once the only living-boats on the
river, and are still much used by sportsmen, subalterns,
and sometimes even by ladies, though the greater number
prefer the house-boats, of recent introduction, which are
IN A DOONGA 233
certainly more comfortable, but are also more expensive
and less characteristic of the country. House-boats may
be lived in elsewhere, but nowhere except in Kashmir
can you experience the delights of a doonga.
Our boat was about 60 feet long ; part of it was
divided into four rooms, each about 9x12, with wooden
partitions between them. There were two long decks
fore and aft, partially roofed in and protected by mats ;
the front deck made a delightful fair-weather sitting-
room ; on the after-deck lived the boat people. Our
rooms were roofed with several layers of matting, and
the side-walls were also of matting, arranged to roll up
so as to make windows. Inside the matting were
muslin blinds, which could also be drawn if necessary,
with a gap of about a foot between them and the
sloping roof, giving glimpses of the surrounding country.
Besides this we had a cook-boat— the same sort of thing
as the doonga, but on a smaller scale — in which lived our
servants, and where the cooking was done.
The furniture consisted of a bath-tub, some wicker and
canvas chairs, two wicker tea-tables, a small deal table for
meals, a certain amount of crockery, and other necessary
articles. We had brought our own camp beds, silver,
linen, cooking utensils, and various odds and ends to
make the boat comfortable, intending to add to our
234 KASHMIR
luxuries and decorations in Srinagar, where embroidered
felt rugs, fascinating curtains and decorative articles of all
sorts can be had in abundance.
For all the magnificence above described, including
a crew of four for our own boat and two for the cook-
boat, we paid about £3 a month. The crew were sup-
posed to be " able-bodied seamen," but the term is officially-
allowed to include women and children above the age
of twelve ; our actual crew consisted, we found, of the
skipper, his wife and daughter, and a hireling, who varied
from time to time, while the cook-boat was manned by a
very ancient mariner and a voluble and rather nice-look-
ing young woman, whose name sounded like Mary, and
who was the cook's wife.
While we explored our floating abode, the crew and
their friends brought over all our luggage from the tonga,
and arranged it about the boat, which, we discovered,
had any number of lockers under foot where things could
be stored. To arrive at these the boards under your feet
are lifted up, making your flooring somewhat rickety,
and an incautious step on a loose board will set your
best china rattling in an alarming way ; but you soon get
used to this, and acknowledge that the boat must after all
have the defects of its qualities.
Tea was ready by the time our baggage was disposed
IN A DOONGA 235
of. A very welcome and festive meal it was in our little
sitting-room with its pretty blinds, whence we could
watch new-comers, less fortunate than ourselves, wrang-
ling with the boatmen, and attempting — in vain, I am
sure — to drive a better bargain than the smiling Kash-
miris. Our boat seemed to catch the public eye and be
much sought after, and several attempts were made to
board it by would-be tenants, unaware that it was already
occupied, until they were severely warned off by the
skipper's wife, who mounted guard on the bow. We
were further enlivened by some excellent buns, bought
from a man who paddled alongside in a small boat. He
was, we found, a minion of the dak bungalow, who drove
a thriving trade with passing boats. He had, doubtless,
seen our servant bringing the tea-kettle along the bank
from the cook-boat, for he appeared on the scene at exactly
the right moment.
During tea we took in with great content the ideal
nature of our surroundings. On one side was the bank
to which we were moored, an apple orchard in bloom
making a fairy-like vista of the foreground ; beyond were
many miles of green and level meadow-land, from which
rose low hills. The soul of spring was everywhere — in
the delicate greens of the slim poplars, the varying tints
of the young foliage on the other trees, whose leaves
236
KASHMIR
were not yet large enough to hide the tracery of the
branches "against the sky, and in the wealth of fruit-
vpm«.
THE TONGA ROAD IN BARAMULLA
blossom, white, or faintly flushed with rose. On the
other side were the waters of the Jhelum, a broad and
IN A DOONGA 237
placid stream, very different from the foaming tumult of
waters we had followed so long on the tonga road,
dashing itself impetuously down its rocky channel
on its steep descent to the plains more than 5000 feet
below.
In our doonga the quiet and cessation of motion
were delightful after the turmoil of four days in
train and tonga. It seemed too at first very strange
to be so near the water, for when the side mats are
rolled up and the blinds open there is nothing be-
tween you and the river any more than if you were on
a raft.
Later in the evening we strolled along the roads
under the white and scented sweetness of flower-laden
branches, through a poplar avenue, and climbed a hill
blue with wild forget-me-nots. We had first been to the
post office to send a telegram and to make an ineffectual
effort to cash a fifty-rupee note, as all our change was
exhausted.
With this object we also visited the Kutcherry
and the Treasury, and inquired in the small bazaar,
establishing, I could see, a most misleading reputation
for wealth, and all in vain, for no one could give us so
much change. On our return we went, as a last resource,
to the dak bungalow, where the khansama, a cheery and
2 3 8
KASHMIR
prosperous-looking individual, produced the money at
once.
There was no longer any obstacle to continuing our
journey, but it was now nearly dark, and there was no
moon, so we decided to wait till morning.
V /; . { \
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&
W&K.'''^ mix
II
UNDER WAY— B ARAM ULLA TO
SRINAGAR
WE left Baramulla about 8 a.m. It had been
showery earlier, but now pale gleams of sun-
light seemed to promise better things. We
tied up at the bank for breakfast two hours later, having
239
2 4 o KASHMIR
come about four miles ; the crew had theirs at the same
time, and halted for at least an hour.
In this lovely and romantic country, if anywhere,
does one feel "the passion for perfection," the true artistic
attitude towards the Art of Living ; and since it adds to
the general harmony to have a contented and cheerful
environment, we made no attempt to "hustle the East"
especially as we felt quite unequal to coping with it.
When a start was again made we walked for several
miles to get warm ; it was a chilly day with a stinging
wind. Our way was bordered with young willows, and
slightly raised above the surrounding country. One had
to be "very handy with one's feet" to keep from stepping
on thousands of tiny frogs, who leaped about the path in
a panic-stricken manner. The land all round was almost
a marsh from the effect of the flood of the previous year
and the newly melted winter snow.
That evening we arrived at Sopor, where we tied up
for the night. This is a large village of over a thousand
houses. Our first view of it was of a mass of mud huts
looking like an outgrowth of the steep brown bank, rising
in a peaked, uneven outline of gabled roofs against the
stormy sky. As we looked it was swept by a yellow
wave of sunlight which painted it like a pale ivory
carving on a background of indigo storm-clouds, through
BARAMULLA TO SRINAGAR 241
rents in which gleamed the snowy heights of the northern
ranges.
Sopor is at the entrance to the Wular Lake, the
passage of which is often dangerous because of the
sudden storms which sweep over it ; and at this time of
year the boatmen will rarely cross it, going instead by a
side-canal. As we neared Sopor the afternoon turned
stormy and bitterly cold, with violent bursts of wind and
driving rain. We shut up our little sitting-room, except
for a few inches of window, put on all our warmest wraps,
and with kangras (the Kashmiri fire-basket) at our feet
devoted our energies to keeping warm, while I read in our
guide-book how, near this place, a former ruler of Kash-
mir nearly lost his life in attempting to cross the Wular
Lake in a storm, while three hundred boatloads of his
followers were wrecked. Just at this point in my reading
a gust of wind struck our exceedingly top-heavy doonga,
making it lean over in a most alarming way, and the door
opened to admit the skipper, who seemed rather per-
turbed, and proceeded to fasten down our only window
and secure things in general with bits of string. A crisis
of some sort seemed to be going on, so we left the Sty-
gian darkness of our salon and moved on to the front
deck to watch events. Fortunately we were very near the
bank, where the river was very shallow. The wind blew
242 KASHMIR
from the shore, and on the opposite side of our doonga
we saw the whole crew, including the cook and the valiant
Mary, standing in the river and pushing against the boat
with all their might to counteract the force of the wind.
At last, in intervals between the gusts, they succeeded in
towing us into a sheltered place, where we moored for the
night.
Later we heard of two impulsive sahibs travelling at
the same time who, considering any yielding to the boat-
men a sign of weakness, had insisted on crossing the
lake, were caught in the storm, overturned, lost some
baggage, and had altogether a rather "paltry" time.
The old name of Sopor was Suryapur, the town of
Surya, who combined the professions of engineer and sage
about a thousand years ago, and had a great reputation.
It is told of him that when the river was flooded because
it was choked by rocks, he put an end to the flood by
having several boatloads of money thrown into the
water. The banks were thronged with people to watch
so irregular a proceeding, who dived in after the money,
and in the course of their efforts to find it cleared the
bed of the river.
It was too cold and wet for us to explore Sopor, but we
saw the ruins of a fort built by Golab Singh, the first of
the Sikh rulers of Kashmir. We could not help seeing
BARAMULLA TO SRINAGAR 243
this, as we were tied up almost opposite. The next day
was clear and sunny, and the boat started before we were
up. It was warm enough to spend the whole day on the
front deck, where we could fully realise how ideal a mode
of travelling this is. The average pace of the boat is
about two miles an hour, which makes you almost feel
you are not travelling at all, except for the gradually
changing landscape. The smooth water below, the vary-
ing April sky above, the splendid exhilaration of the air
— mountain air with a dash of spring — this wonderful
world of snowy peaks and violet-shadowed hills, of green
meadow-land and flower-decked banks — all this was our
own, emptied of all other human beings to contest our
right to it ; the only people in sight, those distant figures
on the towing-path, headed by the infant in a fluttering
scarlet garment, looking at this distance like a large and
animated poppy.
So in great content we proceeded on our way, trying to
decide whether yesterday, with its storms and wonderful
skies, or to-day's serenity of sunshine were more beauti-
ful. We passed Sumbal about midday, where there is
one of the curious bridges typical of Kashmir. There
is good fishing here later in the year, in the mulberry
season.
After Sumbal the mountains approach closer to the
244
KASHMIR
bank, and a small conical hill rises very abruptly near by.
This is called Aha Thang, and behind it lies the little
Manasbal Lake. We put off visiting this lake till later, as
it was famous, we were told, for its lotus flowers, which
AT SOPOR
bloom early in July. When we did go there on the
30th of June, it was a breathless day of blazing heat, with
the thermometer in the nineties. We had not realised
how hot it would be, expecting somehow to find April
weather still lingering in the spot we had passed in April.
BARAMULLA TO SRINAGAR 245
I had arranged to make cherry jam that day — not the