From Nepal to India, Indian Customs, 1985

 Taken from my book "Back to the East, India, Nepal and Kashmir" 1985

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23rdApril

Wewere up at 5 AM ready for the bus back to Delhi, but a problem getting breakfast or a taxi from the Hotel Eden after we ordered both last night. Eventually we got to the Hotel Withies to board the bus.

This time we had good front seats.

The journey down the valley was smooth with some good scenery, although the driver seemed to think he was on a race track. Nobody on the road seemed to want to get out of anyone else’s way. The rule here was simple: “Might is Right”.

It now seemed that many Nepalese and Indians like playing head games, so when when we said chai, char, tea, we were met with blank stares. Then, if you shouted, like barking an order, they suddenly understood. Maybe they were all just stoned.

We reached the border with no problem and the customs came and took all our passports to inspect whilst we sat on the bus outside the customs shed. They did not inspect any luggage.

But whilst we sat there a young boy outside spotted Lesley through the window. He obviously recognised her from when we passed through before. He was knocking on and waving through the window. Lesley waved back. He ran off and soon returned with some other boys and motioned us to open the window. They started throwing newspaper packages through the window. I opened one. It was weed. We are right outside the customs office. I through it back out shaking my head. More came in. I through them back shouting no. A couple of minutes later a guy came from further back on the bus and gave me two wraps, saying that the boys had asked him to give them to me. I threw them out too.

After a while the boys waved goodbye and left and soon we were on our way. The last thing I wanted was to get busted for weed at the border.

Across from us were two guys, one looked like David Soul from the Miami Vice TV series.They were smoking small joints and passed one to me. There was just enough for Lesley and I to have two puffs each. It was wonderful and strong Nepalese hash. They said they had trekked into the mountains to a village to get it. They made another small joint and we had another puff.

The bus took off and we were flying several feet high.

Into the darknesswe went.

A few hours down the road, the bus suddenly stopped. It was the Indian customs officers.

They came on the bus and immediatelytold me to get off the bus. Strangely, as I was holding my shoulder bag on my lap, I passed it to Lesley. They ignored that. They also ignored Starksy and Hutch. They got some people from the back of the bus too, Nepalese I think.

It was dark outside so they all had torches, about six cops. They took me to the back boot and got me to show them my rucksack, which I opened and they emptied. They took my camera, a torch (the bulb no longer worked) and a tin a sardines. I told them the camera was cheap and so I did not need to declare it, the torch bulb was no good and the tin was fish. One guy said that if the fish were inside, they would be dead. Then another guy, presumably their boss, came and said “OK, mister, what you have?” I told him camera, torch and fish. He said “Is that all?” I said yes and he said “OK, get back on bus.”

That was the end of that. They searched some other bags and off we went again, to Delhi.

24thApril:Back in Delhi Yet Again

By 9 AM it was very very hot on the bus. We were both aching, queasy and probably dehydrated.

We passed through a place called Bareilly. There was a modern looking place with some nice architecture. Suddenly, a little further on, we realised this was the dump of place where our other bus had broken down, on our way to Kathmandu. So that time we had sat there for many hours in the heat with just a tiny chai shack and our prayers and mosquitoes, whilst five minutes walk away was that lovely looking new place that probably had a restaurant.

Later we passed though Rampur, which was mentioned in the book ‘Staying On’.When we reached Delhiat about 6.30 PM. As we were getting off the coach, I looked under the seat to make sure we had not dropped anything. I found two newspaper wraps of weed, about ten grams or so. A nice surprise.

We took a rickshaw back to our regular hotel, Ashok Yatri Newas.

Back To The East, India, Nepal, Kashmir by Alun Buffry

May 20 to May 25 1985: Leaving Kashmir and heading back to the UK: Lesley gets busted.

 Taken from Back to the East, India, Nepal, Kashmir on Amazon 

 20^th May

We wasted much of the afternoon trying to get to Thomas Cooks, which turned out to be at Johanson Travel not the Grindleys Hotel as we had been told. Money was coming. This was after being told for ten days that money for us was at Grindleys. But there was still no money there. So we sent a message to Thomas Cooks in Delhi to tell them to keep the money there.

Jimmy, who did not turn up last night where we were supposed to meet him at the Tourist Office and waited, came to see us and said he had been waiting for us on Houseboat Jupiter. He said that he would bring the smoke to the New Wild Rose tonight.

We never did get "Numero Uno" from Jimmy but I did get my money back.

I had asked for tickets back to Delhi tomorrow, but so fat there are none, so we will be here another day. I have arranged to pay our bill later, either in Delhi or back in the UK. They said that is no problem. Yeah, like my sitar!

I just wanted to get back to Delhi now, pick up some money and confirm the flight home. If we needed to wait a week, we could go to Kulu and Manali and get stoned, I thought.

The people here were all friendly enough, but they never say they don’t know and brush everything aside as if nothing mattered to them but of course it did. In fact everything mattered. There was a lot of ignorance and lack of experience. Many lived such limited lives. They didn’t understand tourists and travellers, think we are all super rich; well compared to so many we are, after all, we are there on holiday often living like kings, miles from our home, and they have so little and life can be hard. They don’t even realise the harm that can come from washing in the sewage of Dahl lake; they don’t know that it was getting worse because they are polluting it themselves.

Many people are fighting for freedom, freedom from India. They mistakenly, in my opinion, think they would be batter off as part of Pakistan because they are Moslem. It’s not violent in Kashmir, completely different to Pakistan. They are too bound by superficial religious appearance and ritual.

The family structure was very strong but men could take multiple wives and, strangely enough, although they would all smoke hash with us, they hid it away from each other; and many were secret alcohol drinkers.

They often used smiles and pleasant offers of chai or small gifts to buy their way into our pockets.

But still, Kashmir was one of the safest and most beautiful parts of the world. 

 21^st May

Suddenly Yussef told us our money was at Grindleys, so off went go again. But of course it’s not. “The money has not been sent”, they told us.

Then suddenly our flight back to Heathrow was confirmed for the 25^th, four days time, so we planned to get the bus back to Delhi tomorrow.

In some ways I thought I’ll be glad to be back in Norwich. In other ways I felt I could travel on.

22^nd May

The bus ride back to Delhi was almost 24 hours, but it’s the best one yet, with no problems. We spend some time in the drivers cabin, up front, so some fantastic views.

23^rd May

Back in Delhi at 7 AM at the Ringo Guest House with air conditioning and shower, opposite the Indian Oil Building.

We went to Thomas Cooks and picked up some money. It’s been there all the time.

We bought some cheap chokers and beaded necklaces and some very cheap women’s shirts from the underground market where they had a sale. Some were less than £1 each and I know I can sell them for at least £6 each.

Ali met us and had Lesley’s lost jeans from Rajasthan. He took her to a night club in the evening. When they got back to the hotel, he as clearly a little drunk.

24^th May.

I went back to the market and bought more cotton blouses, now my rucksack was packed very full. It was far too hot and uncomfortable outside during the day.

In the evening we went to the Mandarin room at the Hotel Imperial.

Then we went to see Ali and on to the airport.

 25^th May

Back in the UK.

I walked through customs at Heathrow airport without a problem.

Lesley got pulled by the customs team. They found her little musk ball and, she told me later, she said “That’s not what you think it is.”

So they did a strip search and called in a doctor and she had to hand over her little stash from her personal space and was busted. Fat Stan had come to pick us up with another guy called Nigel and we were waiting in the arrivals hall for Lesley when there was an announcement for Stan. Nigel went in to learn that she was being detained for a few hours and so he gave her enough money to get back to Norwich by bus or train, as we could not wait.

A couple of months later, we took her to Uxbridge Court where she as fined £100. Everyone else in court while we were there had suitcases full of drugs.

 

 Stanley Atkins RIP

May 10, 11 1985: Pony Trekking in Kashmir: Lidderwat (continued)

 Taken from Back to the East, India, Nepal, Kashmir on Amazon 

 

10^th May

We set off walking and sometimes on the ponies. The rain had eased off and the scenery was absolutely incredible. We walked for about two hours and when we got there, a place with no name, the tents were already pitched.

With the snow capped mountains and rushing stream, it was lovely. It rained again in the afternoon after we were served omelette and chips, but the tent with fly sheet and ground sheet was quite adequate.

11^th May

We walked and rode towards Kolahai, crossing the snow line. Kolahoi Peak was the highest mountain in Kashmir with a peak elevation of 17,799 feet. Obviously we had no intention of going to the top!

But, as was typical here, they did not tell us what was happening and suddenly we were walking into the snow, with the ponies behind us along with my rucksack and shades which I would certainly need to avoid snow blindness at that height. “Ponies wait for us to come back,” said Ali, “they not like snow.”

So we stopped a little way past some empty huts. Ali and Martin, the Canadian guy that had joined us, were to walk on to see the glacier. We would go back. Fine with us.

The air was so thin that even cigarettes went out when one stopped puffing on them.

They returned after two hours. Martin was almost blind. The snow had become too deep and dangerous for them to continue. Ali should have known that. We are not mountaineers, we are not equipped for that. This was supposed to be a pony trek.

So we returned to our camp, which we are told was called Lidderwatt, such a beautiful tranquil spot. Ali told us tales of who died here last year. Two fell off ponies crossing the river and one whilst rafting.

At some point we met an old chap that asked if we had any aspirins because his wife had toothache and he was on his way to walk to Pahalgam to buy some. He was barefooted. I had some in my bag and gave them to him. He gave me a small piece of nice black hash. Hash is no good for toothache.

On the way down, we stopped at a small shack. There was a smiling woman there with what may have been her daughter. She invited us to drink some chai. It was pink milky and salty, just what we needed. The girl was fascinated with Lesley and her hair.

 

As we moved along a track with low branches handing down that I had to duck under, my pony fell behind the others. As they disappeared behind some trees on bend, my pony panicked and started moving faster than it ever had before with me on its back. But as soon as it caught sight of the others, it slowed down again.

May 3 1985: Srinagar, Kashmir and the lakes

   Taken from Back to the East, India, Nepal, Kashmir on Amazon 

After breakfast we went on a shikara ride around Dal lake. We were able to stretch out and relax on a mattress with cushions under a canopy. Very relaxing.

The view of the mountains was beautiful and tranquil. Nehru Park was in the middle of the lake, then Rup Lank (gold island) with its four chiner trees. The Nighat Gardens were between the lake and the mountains. We decide to pay them a visit. They had been there since 1833, splendid gardens of grass, flowers and trees, with its own canal and cascades running down the middle and a series of terraces takes one up to the fine lake views.

 

To our left we saw Hari Parbat Fort on top of Sharika Hill. It was built 1592 to 1598, during the reign of Akbar. Visits were only possible with written permission from the Director of Tourism. Outside was a shrine to the 6^th Sikh Guru.

On our way back, we passed the Hazratbal Mosque. New and shining white, supposed to house hair from the Prophet. (image found on line)

When we got back to the New Wild Rose, I read in a book that a trip on Dal Lake was a sybaritic experience. None of us actually knew the word but we instinctively knew what it meant - fond of sensuous luxury or pleasure; self-indulgent. 

 

April 30 to May 2, 1985: Srinagar, Kashmir and the House Boat

 30^th April: Srinagar

  Taken from Back to the East, India, Nepal, Kashmir on Amazon

(some images taken from on line)

We stayed the night at the Hotel Palace in Jammu, although not exactly a palace. We had to share a room with a Canadian guy. We were up at 6 AM to continue our journey on the bus.

Of course we were going to be many hours later so whoever was going to meet us at the bus depot will probably not be there.

It seemed to be that every long bus ride in India comes with a little adventure.

It was a nerve-wrecking drive through excellent scenery with sights such as monkeys and herds of goats along the way; sometimes we had to stop for the goats on the road. The herds and goats were driven along by what looks like whole families.

There’s a 5200 foot long tunnel and signs reading “This is not a race or rally, this is Kashmir Valley”. I was not sure that our driver could read though.

One surprise was seeing stalls along the way, selling cricket bats, made from local walnut.

When we finally arrived in Srinagar at about 6.30 PM, we were met by a group of young hasslers each claiming that they have been sent to meet us, not one seem to know of the name of the person that sent them, so we went to the office to phone Kashmir Himalayan Holidays. Before we got an answer, a guy arrived with all our details and off we go by Rickshaw and Shikara to our houseboat, the New Wild Rose.

Shikaras are of various sizes and are used for multiple purposes, including transportation.

 

The usual shikara seats six people, with the driver paddling at the rear. Like the Venetian gondolas. They are a cultural symbol of Kashmir. Some shikaras are still used for fishing, harvesting aquatic vegetation (usually for fodder), and transport, while most are covered with tarpaulins and are used by tourists.

We met Ibram and Bashir who were there supposedly to do our will. Omelette and chips served, we were shown to our room which was OK, but not as good as the Kashmir Paradise where I stayed in l981.

 

1^st May

It rained all last night and most of today, which I spent playing backgammon. It was almost chilly after Delhi. I was glad I had my sweater. Outside were some salesmen on their shikaras, touting for business. One was selling furs. Lesley had ordered one and given her red leather jacket so they can measure it. In the distance we heard children probably at school, horns and the whistling and squawking of geese and other birds. A simple meal of rice, vegetables and dahl, cooked was served to uson the houseboat.

2^nd May

It had stopped raining so we took a shikara to the land and walked to the poste restante at the main post office. There was letter from my friend Stan, back in Norwich, short with no mention of money.

The two Australians, Brad and Kelly, who were staying on our houseboat were both sick, which made me wonder abut the hygiene here, or lack of it. Although the water looked clean here, we were downstream from many other houseboats. Down by the bridge where the poorer families live on far less luxurious boats, it was stinking. And it seemed like the toilet empties direct into the lake, where they also seemed to wash dishes and cloths.

 

April 29 1985: Bus to Kashmir: Ram Ram Buses

 Taken from Back to the East, India, Nepal, Kashmir  

RAM RAM BUSES

by

Alun Buffry

From Delhi on an Indian Tourist bus,

We left thinking they'd take care of us.

An Indian video humbly plays and we're

Told in 24 hours we'll reach Kashmir.

The journey goes into the darkest night,

As jungle and hills slowly dodge our sight,

The road now is just long and straight,

No bumps and bends or jerks to hate.

We're speeding along, ever so fast,

As if this journey is our last,

The road the driver's trying to keep,

Me - I'm just trying to fall asleep.

Suddenly, we swerve, a crash, a jolt,

Us thrown around, bus comes to a halt,

We look through windows only to see,

We hit a small tractor and just missed a tree!

Spite driver's brave efforts to curve and sway,

One side of the bus has been torn right away!

Amidst cries of Oh God!" - in Hindi "Ram Ram",

And in my own mind "Oh shit, oh damn!"

No one here seems able to tell,

Whether we're earthly or in heaven or hell.

But nobody's hurt, so we all get out,

A policeman a sweeper's given a clout.

For without thought he's just learned that he'd officially signed

A statement unread because he was blind.

There's nothing to do now but sit and wait,

Arriving Kashmir we know we'll be late.

Then mosquitoes surround us and all rush in,

"There's three dozen humans in a half open tin!"

They must have shouted and told their friends,

"We can buzz all about them and insanity send!"

Well I know it's our blood they are trying to drink,

And "Kill the bastards" is what I think,

And now the sun has gotten bright,

People are gathering to smile at our site.

Apparently the tractor driver was drunk,

The cop wanted baksheesh or he'd be sunk.

Ah, now they're trying the bus to fix

With hammers, wires and broken sticks!

It'll be midnight tomorrow before we arrive,

If just 36 hours more we can somehow survive.

But surprise, surprise we weren't there all day,

For two hours later we were on our way.

 

April 23, 24 1985: From Kathmandu back to Delhi

 Taken from Back to the East, India, Nepal, Kashmir  

(Images found on-line)

23^rd April: Delhi

We were up at 5 AM ready for the bus back to Delhi, but a problem getting breakfast or a taxi from the Hotel Eden after we ordered both last night. Eventually we got to the Hotel Withies to board the bus.

This time we had good front seats.

The journey down the valley was smooth with some good scenery, although the driver seemed to think he was on a race track. Nobody on the road seemed to want to get out of anyone else’s way. The rule here was simple: “Might is Right”.

It now seemed that many Nepalese and Indians like playing head games, so when when we said chai, char, tea, we were met with blank stares. Then, if you shouted, like barking an order, they suddenly understood. Maybe they were all just stoned.

We reached the border with no problem and the customs came and took all our passports to inspect whilst we sat on the bus outside the customs shed. They did not inspect any luggage.

But whilst we sat there a young boy outside spotted Lesley through the window. He obviously recognised her from when we passed through before. He was knocking on and waving through the window. Lesley waved back. He ran off and soon returned with some other boys and motioned us to open the window. They started throwing newspaper packages through the window. I opened one. It was weed. We are right outside the customs office. I through it back out shaking my head. More came in. I through them back shouting no. A couple of minutes later a guy came from further back on the bus and gave me two wraps, saying that the boys had asked him to give them to me. I threw them out too.

After a while the boys waved goodbye and left and soon we were on our way. The last thing I wanted was to get busted for weed at the border.

Across from us were two guys, one looked like David Soul from the Miami Vice TV series. They were smoking small joints and passed one to me. There was just enough for Lesley and I to have two puffs each. It was wonderful and strong Nepalese hash. They said they had trekked into the mountains to a village to get it. They made another small joint and we had another puff.

The bus took off and we were flying several feet high.

Into the darkness we went.

A few hours down the road, the bus suddenly stopped. It was the Indian customs officers.

They came on the bus and immediately told me to get off the bus. Strangely, as I was holding my shoulder bag on my lap, I passed it to Lesley. They ignored that. They also ignored Starksy and Hutch. They got some people from the back of the bus too, Nepalese I think.

It was dark outside so they all had torches, about six cops. They took me to the back boot and got me to show them my rucksack, which I opened and they emptied. They took my camera, a torch (the bulb no longer worked) and a tin a sardines. I told them the camera was cheap and so I did not need to declare it, the torch bulb was no good and the tin was fish. One guy said that if the fish were inside, they would be dead. Then another guy, presumably their boss, came and said “OK, mister, what you have?” I told him camera, torch and fish. He said “Is that all?” I said yes and he said “OK, get back on bus.”

That was the end of that. They searched some other bags and off we went again, to Delhi.

24^th April

By 9 AM it was very very hot on the bus. We were both aching, queasy and probably dehydrated.

We passed through a place called Bareilly. There was a modern looking place with some nice architecture. Suddenly, a little further on, we realised this was the dump of place where our other bus had broken down, on our way to Kathmandu. So that time we had sat there for many hours in the heat with just a tiny chai shack and our prayers and mosquitoes, whilst five minutes walk away was that lovely looking new place that probably had a restaurant. 

 

Later we passed though Rampur, which was mentioned in the book Staying On. 

 When we reached Delhi at about 6.30 PM. As we were getting off the coach, I looked under the seat to make sure we had not dropped anything. I found two newspaper wraps of weed, about ten grams or so. A nice surprise.

We took a rickshaw back to our regular hotel, Ashok Yatri Newas. 

 

Connaught Place, New Delhi (photo from on line)