Kashmir 1981 and 1985 - video

 

Conclusion: Taken from Back to the EAST: INDIA, NEPAL, KASHMIR by ALUN BUFFRY

 TAKEN FROM BACK TO THE EAST: INDIA, NEPAL, KASHMIR - Alun Buffry

 https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1916310796/ref=nosim?tag=webbooks05

CONCLUSION

I have made three trips to India. The first, pretty much out of the blue because when we left the UK we had intended to travel only as far a Turkey, in a van. There were four of us. None of us had very much money. I had left UK with just about £60, three weeks wages in those days. By the time we reached Antalya, in Turkey on the southern coast, I had just £20 left. We slept either in the van or in a tent until we reached Istanbul, where we rented cheap rooms. After that, we slept in Turkey in the open. From Turkey Keith and I took a boat eastwards, intending to travel to Beirut then back to Istanbul to meet up again with the others. On the boat, however, we were advised not to go to Beirut, so instead hitch-hiked across Syria into Iraq and on the Baghdad, then on by bus to Tehran. Then we headed east across Iran, Afghanistan, Pakistan and into India. The main problem for me was lack of money, so not being able to eat the food I should have been eating and staying in cheap and often dirty hotels. I ran out of money in Kabul, a dirty city but cheap and friendly. I sold a few items such as shirts and a compass and met a wealthy German guy called Helmutt, who helped us get to India, by plane from Lahore to Amritsar, one of the first passenger planes after the end of the Pakistan-India war. In Amritsar, we stayed for free at The golden Temple and I hitched a truck ride to Delhi.

I struggled on very little money, receiving just a few pounds in mail from the UK. Keith went on alone to Nepal. I became ill and spend a week in hospital (free) in Delhi, suffering from dysentery and hepatitis. I tried to travel back overland to the UK but became ill again and again, being hospitalised in Kabul and Tehran, from where I had to take a flight back to London, which my parents paid for. I was 22-years-old. Looking back, it’s easy to say I should have had more sense.

Yet looking back, it was a pretty dumb thing to do, although very educational and an experience that I valued. But it was hard work in the east, with such different people, customs, lifestyles, religions, languages, foodstuff, politics and the divisions of wealth and poverty.

That was a disastrous trip, not only did I and Keith became ill, but after we left Turkey my good friend John Sullivan was killed when the van crashed in Antalya; the other passenger, Mike, was seriously hurt, broken leg, broken ribs and bang on the head. I did not even find out what had happened until I was back in Kabul, months later, and by chance met somebody that I knew from Norwich, Pete Roscoe, who was on his way to India.

From the moment we had left the UK, everywhere we went, we managed to buy hash, in every country we passed through with the exceptions of Iraq and Iran. In Iran, we actually stayed on an opium farm run by a licensed farmer who also supplied it illegally. He was also the village policeman.

That tail is told in my book “All About My Hat The Hippy Trail, 1972”

What did I learn?

The variety of people in our world.
The generosity and care we received from people with so little.
That I had people that I could call on to help when all else failed.
To travel with enough money to get one through and get one home safely.
To take more care of health regarding hygiene and diet.

So my next trips to India, both by plane, recorded in this book, were 1981 and 1985.

By this time many places had already changed in respect of politics and freedom, and it was not so possible to travel overland.

1981 was a two week holiday. 1985 was a two month journey.

At both times I had more money, enough as I thought, being older and wiser, as I thought. Yet in both cases we spent our money faster than we had anticipated and had to write home for more.

Of course another problem that was easy to have forgotten, was that contact with family and friends back in the UK was not instant and easy. A phone call had to be booked a week in advance and one had to hope that the call would be answered. Otherwise, it meant booking another call. Also in those days not everyone in the UK had a phone in their house and nobody had a mobile (cell) phone.

We were lucky to have booked the holidays through travel companies that were able to help us out.

So I reiterate my advice, make sure one has enough funds and remember, cash and bankers cards can be lost or stolen (as can possessions and passports).

Delhi and Agra, had changed noticeably since 1972 since I had visited those cities.

They were more populated with more traffic, more noise, more dirt and more beggars and hasslers on the streets. Also more “richer” tourists. Kashmir was attracting people with money, staying on houseboats, often isolated and even protected from the people and poverty on the streets. Corruption, baksheesh, favouritism and bureaucracy were all more common – you will have read about our problems getting seated on planes that had been overbooked.

One of the favourite sayings of many people was “no problem”. Either they did not see a problem, did not see it as important or simply did not care. Yet paying baksheesh in advance would often avoid those problems. ‘Jimmy’, on the houseboat in Kashmir in 1985 never did post the letter that he had promised to post; that cost me a sitar.

Many Indians won’t say that they don’t know; instead they tell one what they think. An example was when we were told that our funds were at abank when they were not and had not even been sent.

I certainly would not advise anyone to drive a vehicle in India. The rule of the road everywhere was “Might is Right”. Walkers and people with carts pulled by animals got out of the way of cars, which got out of the way of buses, which got out of the way of trucks. Everyone was listening out for the loudest horns approaching them. Everyone in the cities seemed to drive using their horns more than indicators. Of course walkers and those with animal-pulled carts had no horns.

At one point in this book, you will see a photo taken from a rickshaw on a road in Delhi; you can see pedestrians, bicycles, rickshaws, cars, buses, trucks and even an elephant.

Of course food is another problem: you may have heard of “Delhi belly”.

The difference between western and India food and water, the way in which so much ghee is used, often the lack of hygiene, that does not cause serious problems for locals, almost inevitably causes some problems for westerners on short holidays. Often these problems are short-lived, being simply a matter of adjusting, but one does not want or need to spend a few days feeling ill especially on a short trip.

At all times, one needs to be aware of thieves and conmen on the streets. People, bot men and women, that will simply want to take advantage of you.

There are those that will simply try to pick your pocket or steal your bag; there are those that ask for money and won’t take no for an answer; there are those that will tell lies and try to mislead you for their own advantage; there are those that say they just want to practice their English and end up taking you to a shop where, albeit they are friendly and often the craftsmanship is fine. That includes foreigners as well as locals.

Of course those people are in the minority, thankfully, and the majority will be friendly and helpful or simply stand and stare. One certainly has to become used to people staring. Also some people don’t want their photographs taken and will ask for money or become very angry, whilst others will ask you to take a photograph of them with or without you.

The gap between wealth and poverty is sometimes atrocious and sickening. One can do nothing about it. In Delhi we made a quick visit to a five star hotel. Inside was spotless and elegant and a cup of tea cost about £5. Right outside the guarded gates that led to the garden from the street, was a tiny chai stall where a cup cost pennies and the street was littered with rubbish and rubble. One sees street food stalls selling hot and cold dished whilst donkey-pulled carts trundle by in the dust, dropping their crap as they go. Many people are unaware of hygiene or unable to do anything about it. Certainly it is essential to ensure that even bottled water ins restaurants is actually bottled water and not just from the tap, or to use purification tablets.

But all that in India. That is part of the experience. But just as it is wise to wear a safety helmet on a building site anywhere, one needs to take care and precautions.

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 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.