Kashmir by Sir Younghusband Francis Edward (libby ebook reader txt) 📖
- Author: Sir Younghusband Francis Edward
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THE LULL BEFORE THE STORM, DAL LAKE
When next I visited Harwan in the middle of May spring had given way to early summer. The mountain-sides were dotted over with clumps of yellow barberry and wild pink roses; clematis was in bloom, and honeysuckle was trailing from the trees. On the ground were large wild geraniums, the big purple iris, white dead nettle, yellow potentillas, strawberry blossom, tom-thumbs, clover, ferns, speedwell, and primulas. The rocks by the stream were often covered with ivy and overhung by sprays of pink roses. While on the mountain-sides, on the northward-facing slopes, the wild apricot, cherry, and wych hazel, and in the valley bottom willow, mulberry, and walnut were in full leaf. And among the birds were now golden orioles, wagtails (white and yellow), kingfishers, herons, water-robins, buntings, grey tits, wren warblers, paradise fly-catchers, bulbuls, thrushes, redstarts, pigeons, doves, and shrikes.
The morning was cloudy and misty, but again with special beauties of its own. Long streaks of mist were drifting along the mountain-sides, all at precisely the same level. Mahadeo, 15,000 feet, was at first quite clear and lighted by the sun. Then a mist drifted towards it, and rapidly, but by almost imperceptible increase, the cloud enveloped it. Light misty clouds swirled about the mountain as currents and counter-currents seized them. Anon the mist in great part cleared away, and Mahadeo was seen peering through the clouds, bold and supernaturally high. Then the peak and all the mountain-sides were enveloped in dark heavy clouds, rain fell, and there seemed every prospect of a wet and gloomy day. But all unexpectedly rifts again appeared, and Mahadeo was once more seen rising composedly above the clouds, the young green foliage standing out distinct and bright, and each rock sharp and well defined. And so, hour after hour, the struggle between cloud and sunshine, between good and evil continued, it being impossible to tell at any moment which was more likely to prevail. The clouds seemed settling down, then a glint of sunshine was seen high on some upland lighting the fresh green grass and some stray shepherd hut. Finally wet prevailed, and the mist settled lower and lower on the valley, the rain poured down and a seemingly regular rainy day set in. But there was fascination yet in watching the mists floating along the mountains, forming and dispersing, enshrouding and revealing the mountain peaks; and the green of the little valley showed up greener than ever. The mountain-sides, usually so brown, were seen to be tinged with a delicate shade of green. The poplars, mulberries, and chenars at the mouth of the valley had each their own especial tint. The rice-fields showed up in brilliant emerald.
ABOVE LIDARWAT, LIDAR VALLEY
Yet after it had appeared to settle down for a whole day's rain the mists suddenly cleared away from the mountain. The sun broke through the clouds and showed up the rounded higher spurs with the soft, downy brown of an Oriental carpet, and the higher peaks stood out sharp and clear. An hour later long level lines of mist appeared and swiftly grew thicker, the whole mountain from one level upward was once more enveloped in cloud which thus gained the final victory.
Harwan village itself at this time of year was strikingly picturesque. It was enshrouded in massive clumps of chenar foliage, below which were the lighter shades of the willow, mulberry, and walnut, and the straight, graceful, white-trunked poplars piercing through. Here and there a horse-chestnut in full flower lit up the foliage, and most beautiful of all were the patches of tall irises—dark purple, mauve, and white—which now surrounded the village. Numerous water-courses rushing through the village lands gave brightness, cheeriness, and a sense of coolness; while the crowing of cocks, the twittering of the birds, the lowing of cattle, and the neighing of the ponies grazing on the rich green grass in the valley bottom, and the distant calls of the shepherd boy to the flocks of sheep and goats on the mountain, gave further animation to the scene. And whether it was more entrancing now, or three weeks later when the irises were over, but when it was wreathed in white roses, it would be difficult to say. Irises and roses are the two especial beauties of Kashmir villages and Kashmir lanes and hedgerows. And I would not like to positively state which was the more beautiful—the rich clumps of mauve and purple irises surrounding the village with warmth and colour in the spring, or the clustering wreaths of roses, white and pink, brightening the village lands and hedgerows in the summer.
SUNSET ON THE JHELUM, ABOVE SRINAGAR
Only one desire we must feel in regard to these villages—that all this natural beauty could not be further enhanced by the trim little cottages of rural England or the picturesque chalets of Switzerland. Every time one sees a Kashmir village and succumbs to the charm of all that Nature has done for it, one longs to see the squalor, untidiness, and dirt of house and man and clothing removed, and justice done by man to what Nature has done for him.
Harwan is not only noted for its natural beauty, and as having been the abode of a celebrated Buddhist saint: it is also now remarkable as possessing a hatchery of English trout, the ordinary brown trout, and of Danube trout or huchon; and here can be seen English trout of all sizes up to 11 lbs.
These trout were first placed in the Dachigam stream which runs through the valley opening out at Harwan; and now all up this valley ideal trout-fishing is given by H.H. the Maharaja to his guests. And what more perfect spot for the purpose could be found? Kept as a close preserve for two purposes; firstly, for stag-shooting; and, secondly, to insure the freshness of the water which furnishes the water-supply of the whole city of Srinagar, it is absolutely quiet and peaceful. There are no inhabitants, and no life but wild life; and, except for the superior grandeur of the mountains on either side, it exactly resembles a Highland valley. We see the same clear rushing river, here dashing over boulders in a series of rapids, and there lying in cool, peaceful pools alongside a grassy bank or beneath some overshadowing trees. On a cloudy day, when the high mountains are shrouded in mist and a gentle rain is falling, you might be in Scotland itself. On a fine day, with Mahadeo towering 10,000 feet immediately above you, and with glimpses of snowy ranges in the distance, you have Scotland and something more.
SPRING IN KASHMIR
This is the valley especially reserved for the sport of Viceroys, and here it was that in the autumn of 1906 the Maharaja entertained Lord Minto. And well do I remember the intense relief of the Viceroy as he turned into the valley and left all ceremonials and State business behind, and felt that here at least he was in a haven of rest and natural enjoyment. The air was clear and bracing, the sky cloudless, and the evening sun throwing long soothing shadows up the valley. Who could feel a care while he fished or hunted stag in a valley with more than the beauty and with all the freshness of his native land?
I have said so much about Harwan and the Dachigam valley as they are typical of the prettiest parts of rural Kashmir and the side-valleys, but I must now return to the description of Srinagar and the main valley itself and go back to where we left it in the spring. On April 1st, the chief glory of the Kashmir spring, peach trees were in full blossom, and forming in the landscape little clouds of the purest and most delicate pink, and giving it an exquisite touch of light and colour. The taller and larger pear trees were snow-white masses. The pink-tinged apple blossoms, the chenar, and walnut leaves were just appearing, and the poplar and mulberry leaves showed faint symptoms of bursting. We were in the first, most delicate flush of early youthful spring.
A mile from Srinagar, on the way to Gupkar and the Dal Lake, the road passes over a gap between the Takht-i-Suliman and the range to the north. This spot is well known as "The Gap"; and as it is perhaps a hundred feet above the valley level an extensive view is obtained, on the one hand, over the great vale of Kashmir to the snowy Pir Panjal range in the background on the south, and on the other hand to the Dal Lake, Haramokh, and the mountain range, close by on the north. There were very few days when either in the morning or evening I did not visit this spot, and hardly ever did I see the same view. Every day there seemed some fresh beauty; and which day in spring, and whether the days in spring were more beautiful than the days in autumn, I could never satisfy myself. On April 1st, looking southward, there was first on the sloping foreground an almond orchard with a sprinkling of trees in white and pink blossom and the remainder in young leaf. Then in the valley bottom were clumps of willows in the freshest yellowy green; light green wheat-fields; bunches of chenar trees not yet in leaf; broad reaches of the placid river glistening in the sunshine, with numerous boats gliding gracefully on its surface; and away over the valley were little clusters of villages, with the land gradually rising to that range of snowy mountains which forms the culminating touch of beauty in every Kashmir scene.
ON THE DAL LAKE IN SPRING
Looking in the opposite direction from the Gap towards the Dal Lake was a less extensive, but scarcely less attractive scene. On the foreground of the gentle slopes towards the lake were tall pear trees in fresh white bloom dotted prettily among the fields of new green wheat. Away to the left was an orchard of peach in the purest and lightest of pink. Little hamlets nestled among the fruit trees; and immediately beyond them stretched the still, clear lake reflecting in its mirror surface the graceful willows and chenar trees by its edge, and the mountain ranges by which it was encircled. As it seemed floating in its midst lay the famous Isle of Chenars mirrored again in its glassy surface. By its shore stretched the renowned Moghal gardens—the Nishat Bagh and the Shalimar Bagh—with their grand avenues of chenars sloping to the water's edge. Above the far border rose a mountain ridge still clothed in snow; above that again the lofty Haramokh; and away in the extreme distance lay the fairy Khagan snows, while on the whole scene there swam a purple-bluey haze, growing more purple and more blue the more distant it fell, and giving to all a softening sense of peace and ease. For tenderness of restful beauty this scene is not excelled.
So far the weather had been exceptionally fine and warm for the season, and the rainfall to date from the commencement of the year had been three inches below the normal; but now
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