Kashir, the original paradise

Finding it harder to really ‘see’ historical sites - takes a grave amount of focus to put out the noise and ignorance masked in disrespect (to the spaces) by many travellers in today’s world. So the ‘seeing’ constantly needs to be backed up by the reading and imagining, and then, if I am lucky, a place in history comes alive.

Never really had a historical interest in Kashmir but I was greatly influenced by a honeymoon type picture of my parents, ma looked so happy just taking in the beauty of the snow and the valley. Since then I was keen to see the state. A caterpillar that stems in your childhood needs to be allowed to go through the pain of becoming a butterfly. On that lovely note, Kashmir was planned with minimum fuss. 

We went through an online travel company  called Knowhere (https://knowheretravel.co/) to help us with the accommodation and the flights were direct to Srinagar via Amritsar. 

I will not lie (about this at least), I was apprehensive. It was like going into the known with a lot of unknowns battling for space in my head. Having read and continuing to read everything that happens/happened there I was really not sure what to expect. The dissent and assent left me confused with only the ridiculous violence to speak for the experience of the land. Note to self, never watch Indian movies about Kashmir, period.

Any flight over, across, around, through the Himalayas is not of this world - the ten of you who are coerced to read my blogs know this. Nose pressed to the window was the look of my entire journey from Amritsar to Srinagar.

The fog settled as we got closer to Srinagar so I focused on mentally helping the pilot land safely, I am a panicky flier. Yup, I live to travel; the irony just cracks most people up. Back to the landing, he dropped the wheels, it was completely foggy but he was steady. Basically between him and me we assumed we got this. He was 100m-200m from the ground,when all of a sudden, he took of, with no notice. My worst nightmare. Most of the people in the plane didn't notice and the others didn't show any visible signs of panic. My heart rate was at a 100 and I started talking it out, loudly. ‘What’s going on. He is making a circle? Why? How come he is not saying anything? Hello, pilot sir, what’s going on?’. By then my partner and some fellow passengers started to look at me sympathetically, nodding their heads. I was praying to all the gods I personally knew, this time quietly. The pilot attempted the second landing, I knew it won’t happen - good things happen on the third try. Everyone knows this. As he dropped the wheels again, I held my breath and we got close to the ground, the fog  lifted and I saw the deepest valley right at the runway, we landed and the drop of the valley was a mere 100 feet behind us. I just about stood up and started clapping. Bouquets and flowers to the pilot please. He never shared the reason for the action-movie based landing.

The cold hit us as we walked out of the airport. We bundled up and sped off to our houseboat. 

The quotes in this blog are from the book, Kashir - Being a history of Kashmir by GMD Sufi; I picked it up at the airport on my way back from Srinagar. A publisher who only sells in Kashmir and a 1000 page book that helped me fill in gaps in my understanding.

The character of the Kashmiri is essentially mystical and imaginative. Huge snowy peaks, flowing silvery streams and sublime solitudes have induced this frame of mind. The cult of Buddha, the teaching of the Vedanta, the mysticism of Islam percolating through Persian sources, one after another, found a congenial home in Kashmir. The pandit and the pir have strived hard to make home superstitious as well.

The more I read about Kashmir's history, the truer this quote feels. Hinduism, Buddhism, Sufism and Islam - the influence of one on the other is subtle and yet strongly felt through and through.

Along with this diversity comes warring kings, sultans etc - power and wealth were great motivators; religion was one of the many tools. Having lived in tough terrains and warring lands (kashmir was one of the first places that the people from the north encountered) over thousands of years, stoic-ness and resilience seems to be embedded in the valley's heart.

Dal lake 

Shammi Kapoor was the only reason the Dal lake houseboat stay was of any interest. Otherwise, I was quite ignorant of the area and its massive tourist appeal, so made many assumptions that were shattered over the two nights we spent there.

Assumption 1 - We will sail in the houseboat, wrong. It’s always docked. The Shikaras are used to travel on the lake.

Assumption 2  - Winters will be quiet on the lake as tourists go skiing or don’t come to Kashmir, wrong. We bumper-car’ed everywhere on the lake. 

Assumption 3 - Cold is the same everywhere. wrong. On the lake, inside a wooden boat (despite some heating),  zero degrees hits differently. 

Dormant memory activated - the existence of aggressive hawkers in our country. It was a free for all and it was hard to say no. The history and the struggle of the valley would flash in my brain and I would instantly buy whatever anyone was selling.

Srinagar in its entirety was covered in fog for the duration of the trip, the experience of seeing snow-capped mountains surrounding the lake were not in my destiny. But the lake took it up as a challenge, pulled itself up and put on a beautiful show all by itself.

Geologists have yet to agree on the origin of the lake - some think its a post- glacial lake while others swear that it is a floodplain. There is mention of the lake in certain Sanskrit texts ( I couldn’t find too much about it), so, grain of salt please. The Mughals are credited to the discovery and development of much of the area - the baths and the rest of the manicured beauty were included, as Srinagar was built as their summer destination. Post the Mughals the British continued the summer tradition and added their mark, they upgraded the houseboats and called it  ‘a piece of England floating on the lake’.

The stay in n the houseboat was tough for us, the owner had removed all heaters from the bedroom, mostly because of the recent houseboat fire; they were all still shaken by it. The bitter cold was not easy, especially at night and espeicillay for folks like us from down south. I wonder where the line is, you know, between roughing it or going with the flow to insisting on basic comfort - I guess falling terribly ill was it for me.

Otherwise the owner of the houseboat was hospitable and helpful. We shared the houseboat with an indian family and a Kiwi biker/lawyer - conversations were eclectic.

Srinagar

The area around the lake was market like, filled with tourists and locals alike. The only difference between Srinagar and most Indian cities was the presence of heavily armed CRPF, patrolling. A part of life and honestly after a few days of stay, they blended in and became a part of the landscape. A human thing; normalising as quickly as possible so the brain is not palpitating in flight/fight mode.

I had read and heard about the Sufi shrines of Srinagar in 2010 and they were the only placesthat I had planned to see, everything else after was organic and a big bonus.

The first bonus was what is currently called the Shankaracharya temple. The origin of it has not been agreed upon, yet. The hillock was first mentioned by Kalhana in his magnum opus Rajatarangini. He was a poet & scribe during the reign of Raja Jayasimha (1128-55 CE). He mentions that the temple was built by Gopaditya of the Godanda dynasty in the early to mid 3rd/4th century. Each source I read had a different year and century. Mihirkula, the king of the white hun dynasty which took over this part of the the world in 6th century CE is also credited to building the temple. The general archeological consensus is that the outer structure is newer and the inner definitely much, much older. I was satisfied with that explanation. The narrative that the temple was visited by Adi Shankaracharya during his time is the one that has endured through the decades, so it is called the Shankaracharya temple. And it is important to the pilgrims who go on the Amarnath yatra.

This was a picture by John Burke, a photographer for the British army, in 1868.

This is my picture, after a walk through, in and around the temple. It is an active temple and so was quite crowded and the pandit insisted I get a trident stamped on my forehead, oblivious to my personal space or my need of how I practiced my faith or spirituality. The stamp remained all day.

The hillock itself had great views and we found a corner that gave us space to think and talk about the mechanics of building something this high and with heavy stone. The sheer motivation.

We drove out and onto the Hari Parbat fort area. A built by Akbar and fortified three centuries later by Atta Mohammad Khan, governor of the Afghan province. The fort stands tall and today, most of the area is heavily guarded.

Urfi the poet's verse about Akbar's first visit to the valley in 1589 CE is similar to many a traveller's thoughts about the valley, 'It must be delightful to come to this Jhelum, in April and May, from the burned up plains of India, it might even revive a dying man' ( Andrew Wilson in 1875)

The next destination was the dargah of Sheikh Hamza Makhdoomi, a prolific sufi saint who was born to parents who originally were from the Chandravanshi rajput family. Makhdoom was a follower of the Sunni Hanifa school, also known as 'the school of people's opinion'. More about the Dargah a bit later in the blog.

As we walked up to the dargah we were

accosted by a deeply beautiful ruin of a mosque. We quickly detoured and we were not disappointed. Stunning in its abandonment, it stood majestic among the Chinar trees. Called the Akhund Mullah Shah mosque it was a mosque within a mosque, built by Shah jahan's children for their spiritual tutor, Akhoon Mulla Shah. The prominent feature is a lotus on top of its roof, it is the only one of its kind in Kashmir. It is said that the architecture of the mosque was designed for individual prayer rather than a congregated one. It was locked and so we (not me) took a keyhole picture.

We got a better view of the inside of the mosque as we continued up the steps to the dargah.

I romanticized Sufism in my early twenties, Rumi's poetry being the cause for it. As I got older and read a bit more, understood why I was drawn to it, it was similar to many spiritual teachings I had explored, Sufism felt human and universal.

Back to the Makhdoomi dargah, a shrine built by Akbar in honour of the beloved and very popular saint. The walk up the dargah was quiet. I did not know what to expect. It was an active place of worship. As I prepared to walk in, I covered my head and removed my shoes. I noticed an old man walking towards me, he was talking to himself, seemingly senile, I walked on in. He came close, looked at me, pointed to my trident stamp and said, 'undar mat jao, haram hai, undar mat jao' (don't go inside, it is forbidden). He walked away, I was shaken. I started to walk out, the last thing I wanted to do was offend anyone. I was stopped by a couple of people who saw the interaction and they urged me to ignore it and go inside. They insisted I go in. I walked in tentatively, aware of every step I took, expecting to be told off again. I walked around, paid my respects and walked out quickly. A skirmish that I did not anticipate.

On our way out, as we walked down the steps we ran into a family walking up. The lady came up to me and gave me an orange, smiled and walked on up. I took it as a good sign and left, happy with my visit.

In the same area we pointed our interest to an old temple, Sharika Devi. The myth goes something like this, the demon Jalodbhava who lived in the water terrorised the people of the valley, Vishnu and Shiva drained the lake but the demon goes into hiding. Parvati's incarnation and the protector of the valley, Sharika Devi, takes the form of a sparrow, drops a pebble on the head of the demon, which turns into a rock, killing the demon. Hari Parbat is that pebble.

The svayambhu (self-rock) rock is enclosed within a small nondescript temple with the goddess and the Sri Chakra. I did not know much about the Sri Chakra then, but a couple of weeks ago I went to a rendition of Dhikshitar's music; offering prayer to the Feminine Principle, which I realised was the Sri Chakra. As I write this three months after my trip, I am for ever surprised by the commonality of elements I gravitate towards.

We walked back to our car, stopping for a minute to admire the massive Gurdwara Chatti Patshahi at Kathi Darwaza, a momento built after the sixth guru's visit to Kashmir in 1616.

Our final stop for the day was the famous Jamia Masjid in the heart of the city. The persian architecture influenced by Buddhist pagodas, the mosque commissioned by Sultan Sikander in 1393 CE and completed by Hamadani in 1402 CE.

The courtyard was gorgeous and without a guide I was bit disoriented: I stopped trying to figure out what is what and pretty much did what I normally do, walk around and come back home and furiously read about it and its history.

The pictures don't do it justice as I was a bit uncomfortable taking them, it was the afternoon and people had come in to pray.

Beautiful areas to pray and a small chat with the person who took care of the mosque made way for a Kannada Quran as a gift. I did not have the heart to tell him that I will need at least a decade to finish, the speed at which I read Kannada is slower than the slowest snail.

The day ended with a meal on the houseboat and prep for the next day's travel to Sonamarg.

Sonamarg

A drive that was short and also eye-opening to the construction of new in the valley. Big homes being built, we were told that they were a direct cause of shrinking farmlands. I hope we as a country are right, in our movement toward a modern and bright future. What we leave behind cannot be taken lightly.

We came into https://www.instagram.com/farahshomestay/ , a beautiful property 12km outside of Sonamarg. Seriously, one of the best decisions I made, you must visit and stay with Rashid, Odile, Farah and their 10 dogs, one queen of a cat and many more cool friends. The three days we stayed were wonderful, filled with enriching conversations and great company, made Kashmir feel like home.

A view from my window. Mountains behind and a healthy river that hugged the borders of those mountains.

We started off the next morning towards Zoji La (La means pass in Tibetan), a silk route, well, route, between China, Ladakh and the Kashmir Valley, I was not going to miss it. The trade routes were not only for exchange of goods but also ideas, cultures and inventions. All routes eventually shut down - as countries marked out borders. The roads up the mountains were narrow and the valleys deep, the driver a confident young man, who had less of a worry about the randomness of mortality than I did. But I refused to be the screaming passenger so I looked out into the mountains imagining the people travelling through these passes, which were much narrower back then. They were called goat trails.

We stopped to take in the Amarnath view.

We finally reached the pass, a flat land with small tea stalls greeted us, we drank tea and ate maggi and drove back. Getting there and back conjured a lot more excitement than the place itself.

The rest of the day passed in quiet reading and/or sleeping. Actually most afternoon/evenings in Kashmir were that. It was winter so the warm rooms and blankets were a big draw after a day full of mountains and valleys. My cough and cold was persistently building up, I was hoping it would hold off till we got home.

Day two at Sonamarg was a hike up the mountain behind the homestay. We didn't go all the way up but it was a nice gentle uphill and views from the the middle were brilliant. We passed multiple flora and a small little waterfall was doing its thing, very seriously. Was a lovely unplanned trek up. You can see the river waaaaay below in this picture, we got up pretty high.

Back to Srinagar

The drive back had an important stop, the Naranag archeological complex on the banks of the Wagnath river. A massive complex built in phases and additions - 220 BCE the shrines around the spring by the King Jaluka; the second round came in 61 BCE, built by King Jayendra; the third round came much later, by King Muktapida in and around the 713-35 CE and finally by King Avantivarman in and around 830-50 CE.

The temples are said to be built for the ancient nagas (serpent). Muktapida built the largest part of it; an ode to Shiva and his Naga ancestors. Muktapida was part of the Naga Karakota dynasty that had ruled the lands of the valley for over two centuries. The accounts written by their scribes and many written by travellers (chinese mainly) to the place were about the flourishing kingdom during the rule of the dynasty.

The great importance of the Nagas both in the Buddhist and in Brahmanical lore is reflected in art.

The Rajatarangini by Kalhana also mentions the building of these temples. Scholars continue to check and recheck the text and corroborate or not corroborate its accuracy, I assume it will be ongoing for years to come. Kalhana's text is one for the ages especially when it comes to the history of the valley before and during the 1100 CE.

The place itself is indescribable. Mountains all around and massive, abandoned structures in the midst, including the clear spring, which still remains clear. Immersed in all of it for a couple of hours.

The drive back was mostly reading up about the temples and the very unique amalgamation of Shaivism in Kashmir.

Kashmir Shaivism is a type of idealistic monism (Advaitha).

By the time we reached our hotel in Srinagar, I was officially sick. Stayed in the room and flew back in a heavily medicated and masked daze the next day.

A few things about Kashmir that I need to mention.

1. There is a lot of work going on to build the infrastructure, so construction is everywhere, including build of tunnels. Our Sonamarg place once in a while shook when rock was being blown apart, nearby.

2. Tourism is on the rise but they are not fully prepared for it. It is a tough one actually -the hotels that are prepped for tourism deal with multiple challenges along with constant power issues.

3. There is no electricity for hours on end and the places that cannot afford to run a generator, struggle. I am hoping these are all teething problems.

4. There is not one ounce of feeling unsafe, at all. Anywhere. Misogyny exists though.

5. The people are polite and most of them a bit wary. Sadly, Indian tourists have a bad reputation even at home.
   

This was a first trip and like many firsts - it was awkward and we mostly stumbled around, planning as we went. Hoping to make many trips to really 'see' the land.