Part II - Householder
Peacock feathers, canopy,
chariot,
throne, theatre, or a soft bed---
Which of these will endure?
--- Lalla
Section 19
It was now August 1943. We
were receiving many proposals for my marriage.
Ultimately, the elders decided on Chuni, the fourteen
year daughter of Pandit Dama Kaul (Karihaloo) of
Fatehkadal in Srinagar. Chuni was the youngest girl in
a family of three brothers and three sisters. Mr
Karihaloo had made a fortune as a businessman, but he
had, more recently, fallen on hard times. The wedding
was fixed for the last week of October. Babuji arrived
from Kapurthala. It was a gala show. For the wedding
feast I purchased six live sheep from Baramulla, and
brought them to Srinagar, where they remained tied in
the compound until the big day. Chuni and I saw each
other for the first time at the wedding ceremony, but
before that I had been assured that she was very
pretty.
Kashmiris then followed the
custom of giving the bride a new name. We chose
Sarojini and the formal Satyavati. The third day after
the wedding, I left to join duty. Bayaji, Didda, Gauri,
and Sarojini stayed back for a fortnight to call on
and receive relatives. During our absence the
houseboat was burglarized, but we lived so austerely
that there was not much to be stolen.
I used to give all the extra
earnings from my private cases to Didda. And, until my
marriage, Bayaji insisted that I should not pay
anything towards the running of the house, and as I
had no addictions my savings accumulated. This is what
was used for the wedding. After the marriage, I paid
half of my salary towards the running of the house.
Life continued happily. One day Sarojini was called to
Srinagar by her parents. She wanted to take Moti with
her. Thinking that she may not be able to look after
him properly there, I did not let her. While she was
away, I went on tour. In the evening, someone passed
the home whistling and Moti, presuming that it was me,
came out running. There the local pariah dog seized
him and badly mauled him before anybody could reach
for help. His kidneys were damaged and death came that
night. Next day when I returned, everyone was in
mourning. Moti was extremely well trained and good
looking and all of us had loved him greatly. Thus
ended a long association.
Section 20
After three months of
marriage Sarojini conceived. In the spring of 1944 we
went on a month long leave to Kapurthala and Punjab.
We took a bus to Rawalpindi. Our path went through the
magnificent scenery beyond Baramulla where the Vitasta
river passes through rock passages and other narrow
gorges.
Sarojini's sister Aruna then
lived in Muzaffarabad, a town 116 miles downstream
from Srinagar, where the Vitasta river receives
Kishanganga from the north and then sharply turns to
the south. Aruna's husband Zinda Lal Kaul was the
court inspector. We lunched with them and pressed on
to Rawalpindi, where we took a train to Jalandhar,
from where we went by tonga to Kapurthala.
For young Sarojini the sights
of Punjab represented a new world. Hem and Asha became
very fond of her, and for Babuji she was like a
daughter-in-law. Later we went to Lahore, where I
showed Sarojini my college and the hostel. Sarojini's
brother Kashi Nath Karihaloo and a cousin were then in
Lahore, undergoing some training in banking. We saw
them and my other friends from my student days. We
returned to Srinagar via Jammu.
Section 21
During my absence, I had been
transferred to the seasonal dispensary at Pahalgam,
the tourist town in South Kashmir. I left Sarojini
behind at Baramulla. The dispensary at Pahalgam was
housed in a new building. The annexe to this building,
which consisted of two rooms and a kitchen, was the
doctor's residence. I wrote to Bayaji to send Didda to
Pahalgam, hoping that both Didda and Sarojini would
come. Bayaji sent only Sarojini.
Pahalgam is situated on the
foamy Liddar river and it is two thousand feet higher
than Srinagar. Above Pahalgam, the Liddar valley
bifurcates, one branch leading to Aru and beyond a
pass to the Sindh valley, and the other leading to
Sheshnag and the famous cave of Amarnath. In the month
of Shravana, pilgrims from all over India congregate
in Pahalgam for their pilgrimage to the cave.
There was no piped water at
the dispensary, and the chowkidar would get us a
couple of buckets from the public tap for cooking and
drinking. Early in the morning we went to the stream
to wash. Evenings were spent promenading the bazaar or
the river banks. We planned a badminton court in the
compound but somehow never got to make it.
Shambhu Nath Razdan and his
brother Dwarka Nath Bhat served as my compounder and
peon respectively. Their last names were different
because Dwarka Nath was given in adoption to a
maternal uncle. Dwarka Nath was a saintly person and
through him we got to know a Mahatma, Swami Anand Ji,
who used to room, free of charge, in a hotel owned by
Dinanath Wazir, the younger brother of our Director.
Often we would go to see him in the evenings.
One day we were invited by
Capt. Prem Nath Kak for dinner and there met some
lawyer friends of his from Bombay. Sarojini went
bedecked in her jewelry. The next morning she realized
that she was missing a gold chain. We looked for it
everywhere. Finally, we went to Mahatmaji and told him
about the loss. He smiled and asked us to come next
day promising he would tell us what had happened to
it.
Next evening, he told us that
Sarojini never had that chain with her in Pahalgam and
that the chain was with Didda. He further said that we
will get the chain back after a year and that is
precisely what happened later.
Sarojini was always careless
about her jewelry. At Baramulla, a few months after
our marriage, she once went to the river to wash.
There her ring, which weighed more than twelve grammes,
slipped out of her finger into the water. The river
bank was quite steep and she did not try to retrieve
it. When she returned she was smiling and nonchalantly
she told us of the loss asking us to forget about the
ring. I was quite upset. I took a wickerware basket
and started sifting through the river mud. Very soon I
found the ring. In years that followed Sarojini lost
quite a bit of her jewelry to thieves.
Section 22
The Director was planning a
tour of the dispensary. On the day of the visit, I
sent Sarojini to Dinanath Wazir's house. The Director
was displeased that I had not arranged any flower pots
around the building, and he did not like my
explanation that I had no funds. He wanted to know why
the case register showed only eight to ten cases a
day, whereas the previous year the doctor, who spent
most of his time supervising the construction of the
building, used to show about sixty. I argued that the
previous doctor's entries could only be fictitious,
whereas mine could be checked with the owners in the
bazaar. Next he found fault with a particular entry in
the register made by my compounder and he angrily
suggested that the description of treatment without
details could imply embezzlement of drugs. When he
would not listen to my explanation, I left the room.
Now Shambhu Nath, my
compounder, started pleading with me in the porch that
by leaving the room I had insulted the Director and I
should apologize to him. Heatedly, I answered that I
would not do so since it was the Director who had not
listened to my explanation. The Director overheard me,
but he said nothing and left for his hotel.
Fortunately, the next day he saw me working full speed
amongst sick cattle at the nearby village of
Ganeshpuri. This must have mollified him because later
he complained to my father-in-law that I was quite
hardworking but did not know how to behave with my
superiors.
Pahalgam has many interesting
sites nearby. Across the Liddar is a fine campground
on a plateau in a wood of blue pines. Nearby, where
the Liddar valley divides into two branches, is the
village of Mamal with its spring and a small temple.
South of Pahalgam, down the
Liddar, is the village of Hutamar. The mosque here,
built on a temple, has in its walls sculptured
fragments of great beauty. One mile further down
Hutamar, is the town of Bumzu. According to the
scholar M.A. Stein, the Ziarat of Bamdin Sahib here is
nothing but a well-preserved temple, converted with a
liberal use of plaster, into the supposed
resting-place of a Muslim saint. He identified the the
shrine with the Bhimakeshava temple which Bhima Shahi,
king of Kabul, the maternal grandfather of Queen Didda,
is said to have erected in the lifetime of her husband
Kshemagupta (950-958).
Section 23
Sarojini returned to Srinagar
by the middle of September. I occasionally went down
there to see her. I was spending a lot of time with
Mahatmaji. One day I expressed some anxiety about
Sarojini. He asked me to prepare roth at Ganeshbal, a
place three miles below Pahalgam, and he said he would
then give his blessings. Shambhu Nath, Dwarka Nath,
and Mahatma Ji accompanied me to the place. After a
bath I put sindur on the rock and prepared the roth.
Mahatmaji now blessed the roth and did puja. Then he
said that I will have a son who would become a
scholar. I took the roth to Srinagar and gave it to
Sarojini to eat.
In October, Sarojini was
taken to the Diamond Jubilee Zenana Hospital at
Nawakadal. By the time I reached the hospital, Avinash
was born after a forceps delivery. He had a scratch on
the side of the forehead caused by forceps. He weighed
ten pounds. I remember that on hearing the sound of
the opening of the door, he turned his head. Sarojini
and Avinash were at the hospital for a week. Devmali,
Sarojini's mother, and Chandrani were the ones who
took real care of them. After this she was at her
parents home for a fortnight and then returned to our
Sathu home.
Section 24
Now I received transfer
orders for Jammu. We rented a second storey flat and
Sarojini and the baby settled in. The hospital was at
the other end of the city by the Tawi bridge and it
took me three quarters of an hour to walk downhill to
work and one hour to walk back home. I remember an
amusing story about our landlady who lived on the
ground floor. Many times we got gifts of waterfowl
(duck) from Srinagar. When we cooked this delicacy the
landlady's children would come up and ask to share the
meal. But when the landlady cooked a special meal, she
would shut all doors and windows so that we would not
know of it. This galled us but Sarojini could not tell
a lie when asked what was cooking. One day, when we
received another waterfowl, I asked Sarojini to tell
the landlady that it was mandook, a word which means
frog in Dogri and Sanskrit that Sarojini did not know.
When told this, the landlady expressed disgust as
frogs are not eaten in India. After this they showed
no eagerness to share our meals.
Another incident relates to
the then common false sense of dignity of Kashmiris.
It was common to look down upon those who admitted
eating chapaties, which are made of wheat flour. This
was because Kashmiris traditionally ate only rice,
which was more expensive, and to eat chapati was to
admit poverty. But we ate chapati in the morning and
rice only in the evening. When Sarojini told this to
some women who had called on us, they sniggered.
Sarojini was still quite innocent of the ways of the
world and so she asked me later why this had happened.
To expose the truth I took leave from office and we
set out for the house of the snootiest of the ladies
to reach at exactly nine, the time of the morning
meal. There in the kitchen we found the two
daughter-in-laws making chapaties for the family.
Their hypocrisy was thus exposed.
My confrontation with Wazir
at Pahalgam was still rankling him. He asked Allah
Bakhsh, my senior colleague at the hospital, to keep
close watch on me. But Allah Bakhsh assured him that I
was one of the best doctors around, because after this
Wazir was never rude to me, and neither did he ever
ask me to do any unethical thing.
Once it rained heavily for
three days in Jammu, and on the third day the roof
started leaking everywhere except for one corner in
our bedroom. I took Avinash in my lap under a blanket
with a kangri. The heat under the blanket caused
Avinash to get a bad rash.
Section 25
At the end of winter I was
again transferred, this time for six months to the
summer health resort of Gulmarg with the dispensary at
Tangmarg. Gulmarg is a high flowery hollow at 8500
feet surrounded on all sides by forests of silver fir,
plue pine and spruce under a high mountain. One can
see a large portion of the valley through these
forests and at the far end the stately peak of Nanga
Parbat which is 26,260 feet high. Above Gulmarg is
Khillanmarg, where one can find slopes covered with
snow even in summer. Beyond is the Toshmaidan plateau
and pass, which in ancient times provided one route
into the valley. Directly below the Gulmarg heights is
the town of Tangmarg.
The dispensary was in a shop
in the centre of the bazaar; the residential
accommodation was at the top and the kitchen was in
the basement. Prem Nath was our cook and peon. My job
included inspection of meat and milk and so we got the
best supplies. Tangmarg was the terminus of vehicular
traffic and it's bazaar was crowded with riding and
pack ponies.
Babuji and family came to
stay with us for a month during August 1945. Didda
came for two months. September was the month for the
overnight Pushkar pilgrimage about ten miles from
Tangmarg in the mountains. We invited Kamala and my
aunt Bendidi to join the pilgrimage. I carried Avinash
and Nannaji (Kamala's son) in my arms by turn. For
poor Bendidi it was the only outing and pilgrimage of
her life.
In the evenings, I took
Avinash on long pram rides. One day an Englishwoman
came to the dispensary looking for me after office
hours and she was told that I was out with my son .
Next day when she met me she said it appeared that I
was only showing my baby around rather than attending
to my work. I retorted that I did my professional work
only during the posted hours.
Avinash had lovely curls and
so I did not want to have his hair cut. But he
developed boils on the head which covered large areas
of the scalp and matted his hair. Reluctantly we
applied scissors and soon all his hair was gone.
One day Sarojini was served
some sag (greens) brought by some pony owners and
cooked by Prem Nath. She was so furious at the poor
quality of the sag that she threw the thali with rice
and sag, like a frisbee, out of the window. Prem Nath
was very scared, but fortunately the thali did not
strike anyone. Sarojini had done this playfully, in
mock anger. In reality Sarojini was very kind to
servants and the episode of the thali thrown out of
the window was a solitary one.
All in all we spent six
wonderful months in Tangmarg.
Section 26
In October 1945 I was asked
to move to Shopian and on tenth November we reached
there. I was to establish the new dispensary here.
This was done in a shop by the bus stand. The upper
flat served as my residence.
Didda and Gauri spent the
winter and the next autumn with us. In 1946 Babuji and
his family and Jeevan Rishi came. It was then we
decided on the name Avinash, having used Kakaji until
then. We visited Aharbal falls and other scenic
meadows. From a neighbour who cut down a walnut tree
we purchased a big sack of walnuts. It did not snow
the winter of 1945-1946 and the Banihal pass remained
open throughout the year.
I had the charge of a number
of breeding centres in the area, the farthest of which
was ten miles away. I was expected to inspect each
centre at least once a month. I left early in the
morning with my lunch in a bag, visiting as many
centres as possible on the same day. During this time
one Vid Lal introduced himself to us and stayed
overnight. He overheard Sarojini talk about the need
for fresh supply of rice. The next day, without
telling us, he brought several bags of excellent rice.
We were impressed by this and we thought that such a
responsible man would be invaluable in arranging the
marriage of my cousin Prithvi Nath, whose mother
Bendidi had asked Sarojini to look for a girl in the
Shopian area. We mentioned this to Vid Lal, and he
volunteered to help. A couple of days later he
informed us that he had arranged a marriage in a very
poor but good family. He wanted an advance of one
hundred rupees (a considerable sum those days) to make
further arrangements. I paid him the money but that
was the last we saw of him. On inquiries we discovered
that he was a con-man. Thus our marriage making
endeavours came to naught.
The winter of 1946-1947 was
very severe. Sarojini was again expecting, so it was
decided that she should spend the cold months in
Srinagar. I was alone in the house. It was so cold
that I lay all the mattresses on the charpai on which
I slept under two quilts. In the evening I heated up
the room with an iron stove. It had snowed and the
roads were frozen hard. One such morning, I heard
someone walk in the street on clogged shoes. The sound
drew my attention and I opened the window. It was a
forest guard who told me that he was walking all the
way to Srinagar. I decided to join him and so asked
him to wait for me. I dressed hastily and went to the
home of the chowkidar to hand over the keys of the
dispensary. The two of us lunched at Hawal at the home
of a Pandit and then walked on to Pulwama. The buses
then came only upto Pulwama in bad weather; the
extension on to Shopian was only a fair weather one.
Darkness was fast descending and there were more
passengers than seats. Eventually a driver, who knew
me, offered to take me with him but the forester did
not get a seat and had to stay back. I reached
Srinagar quite late. In our home at Sathu, everyone
was happy to see me.
That night it snowed heavily
and all the roads in the valley were blocked by snow
by the next morning. Since I had come to Srinagar
without permission, I got anxious about how to get
back. I went to the bus stand. There I found Dr.
Madhusudan Jalali, the veterinarian from Pulwama, and
Badri Nath Jalali, Naib Tehsildar of Pulwama making
inquiries; these gentlemen had also come to the city
without permission. The bus company people had no idea
when the traffic would restart and we were very
anxious to return. So on the third day we decided to
return on foot.
Section 27
The distance from Srinagar to
Pulwama is about twenty miles and we decided to do it
in two days. Our plan was to proceed to Kakpore, which
is fourteen miles away, on the first day. The next day
we hoped to reach Pulwama from where Shopian is only
ten miles. After morning meals at our homes, we met at
the bus stand. I bought four big telwaroos (bagels)
from the baker. We chose the bus stand for our meeting
in the hope that some bus might take off. On enquiry
we were told that none was expected to leave that day.
So we marched off. There was some hazy sunlight.
After we crossed Pampore
about eight miles away, we heard the hum of
approaching vehicles. There being no governmental
arrangements for the clearance of snow, a few
enterprising bus drivers had arrived with shovels and
labourers to clear the road to Anantnag. The lead bus,
when it would slide off the road, was pushed back on
the road pavement by the labourers after clearing the
snow in patches. The caravan proceeded slowly.
The day was sunny. We got a
lift to Letapore. but we made a mistake by not getting
off at the spot from where the river bank for crossing
to Kakpore is nearest. Instead, we got down at
Letapore and walked to the riverbank. The boatmen
assured us that the village at the other end was
Kakpore. By the time we crossed over it became pitch
dark. On reaching this village we found that we had
been fooled. On that dark snow-covered winter night we
found no one who would tell us the direction. We took
one of the beaten tracks which we thought was the
right way. In that dark the only light was the
fluorescence of the snow. In the first half hour of
this trek Dr. Jalali had two falls. Being on the heavy
side, he now lost his will to walk. The other two of
us kept on either side of Dr. Jalali to steady him.
After an hour in the dark, knee-deep snow, and on
empty stomachs, we reached a village but it was not
Kakpore. The Naib Tehsildar knocked at the door of the
first house and with the assistance of the houseowner
we found the village chowkidar. The chowkidar got us a
kerosene lamp and guided us to the Kakpore patwari
khana. Fortunately, the patwari, who was a Pandit, was
in. He lighted up a big fire in the fire place. We
were so exhausted that the removal of the outer
clothes was an ordeal. The patwari gave us hot tea and
woollen wraps to warm our frozen bodies. After an hour
or so we were served hot meals.
The night was restful. Next
morning Dr. Jalali expressed his inability to walk the
six miles to Pulwama. We summoned several horse owners
but they refused to rent horses due to the hard frozen
and slippery roads. They insisted on a guarantee of
safe return which none of us could give. So after hot
meals we started on foot. The sky was overcast. In
Pulwama, I had to choose between staying with the
doctor or the Naib Tehsildar. I could have also stayed
with my mother's family that was from here, but then
leaving early next day would have been rude. The
doctor's wife was a consumptive whereas the Naib
Tehsildar was alone. This fact, and the Naib
Tehsildar's stronger insistence, drew me to his place.
But the bed that was made for me had insufficient
covers and I froze and kept awake the whole night.
I started in the morning
before breakfast for Shopian. The main road looked no
better than a footpath because of the heavy snowfall.
Three miles down the track forked out and by mistake I
took the one which carried me to Aribal, a village
which is endemic with goitre. There is a saying about
this place that it leads to {\em dag rostaya rag
phyala}, or a painless tumour. I met a man emerging
from his house who directed me back to the fork. But I
decided to cross the fields without realizing that
they were terraced and uneven. It was hard walking and
I sprained some tendon or muscle in the groin on the
right side. I reached Hawal by about two in the
afternoon. My host there treated me to tea and meals
and looking me over advised me to spend that night
there. But I decided to press on. In the beginning the
going was easy but after crossing a bridge a climb
began, and I felt too exhausted to lift my legs. By
now I had a shooting pain in the groin and I had to
take a long rest. The last mile was steeper. My
breathing became very hard and after every two steps I
rested to recoup my breath. When at long last I
arrived in Shopian, I found a butcher's shop open. I
bought meat and went home. There I lit the stove, made
the room hot, and cooked rice and meat, and rubbed
iodex on my injury.
All this exertion turned out
to have been in vain as the election to the assembly
seat, which prompted us to hurry back to Shopian, was
not held due to the withdrawal of the opposition
candidate.
Section 28
The earliest extant Kashmiri
history is the Rajatarangini, written by Kalhana
around 1150. It appears that the list of kings goes
back to the beginning of the second millennium BC. We
are on sure ground with the emperor Ashoka who
established a new capital. Later, during the reign of
the Kushan emperor Kanishka, an important Buddhist
council was held here.
One of the greatest of the
Kashmiri kings was Lalitaditya, who ruled from 724 to
761. He was a great conqueror and he is believed to
have extended his rule to most of north and east India
as well as west Tibet. He built a magnificent temple
of Martanda at Matan. Another great king was
Avantivarman (855-883), during whose reign great
building activity continued. These kings were also
patrons of the arts and literature.
One of the most fascinating
characters of Kashmiri history is Queen Didda who,
directly or indirectly, ruled during 950-1003. She was
ruthless in her pursuit of power. She began as the
powerful queen of a weak king and then she was the
queen regent during the nominal reigns of her son and
grandsons. The last twenty three years of her reign,
she ruled in her own name.
Kashmir passed into Muslim
rule in 1339 when a mercenary named Shah Mir, who had
come to Kashmir from the south, deposed the widow of
the last Hindu king. Fifty years later the
iconoclastic king Sikandar ascended the throne. A
merciless campaign to destroy temples and convert the
Hindu population followed and according to tradition
only eleven Hindu families survived this persecution.
Sikandar's son Zain-ul-Abidin (1420-1470) was a great
ruler, however, and many of those who had fled the
valley returned during his reign. The sultans who
followed were weak and, under the influence of
fanatical Muslim preachers, the persecution of Hindus
continued.
In 1589, Akbar's forces
incorporated Kashmir into Mughal India. The period
that followed saw good administration. During the
reigns of Jehangir and Shah Jahan, magnificent gardens
in Shalimar, Nishat, Cheshma Shahi, and Achabal were
built. Aurangzeb (1658-1707) appointed fourteen
governors during his reign. One of these, Iftikhar
Khan (1671-75), wished to convert all the remaining
Hindus to Islam. The Hindu leaders approached the Sikh
Guru Tegh Bahadur. He said they should tell the
governor that the Kashmiris will embrace Islam if Tegh
Bahadur did. Guru Tegh Bahadur was arrested on orders
from Aurangzeb and brought to Delhi. He was given the
choice to convert to Islam or death. He chose to be
martyred. It was in reaction to this act of Aurangzeb
that Sikhs under Govind Singh became militant.
The Afghans seized Kashmir in
1753. What followed was a series of rapacious and
cruel governors. The Muslim rule in Kashmir ended in
1819 when the Afghan governor Jabbar Khan was defeated
by the Sikh general Dewan Chand. Kashmir became a part
of the Punjab State of Ranjit Singh. But the Sikh
rule, that lasted twenty seven years, was not much of
an improvement on the Afghans. With the defeat of the
Sikhs at the hands of the English in 1846, the Jammu
and Kashmir State passed under the rule of the Dogras,
who themselves belonged to Jammu.
The story of the founding of
the Dogra state is a fascinating one. The Dogra kings
traced their lineage to Ranjit Deva who ruled in the
Jammu region during 1742-1780. Gulab Singh, who
belonged to this family, was born in 1792 and he
distinguished himself as a sixteen year old soldier
defending Jammu against the Sikhs. Maharaja Ranjit
Singh now took Gulab Singh in his service. For his
services as a soldier and leader, Ranjit Singh
rewarded Gulab Singh with the rajaship of Jammu in
1820; his brothers Dhyan Singh and Suchet Singh became
rajas of Poonch and Ramnagar. But the brothers
remained tributaries to Ranjit Singh and amongst the
three Gulab Singh, the eldest, was considered the
primary ruler. Dhyan Singh remained in Ranjit Singh's
court to protect and advance the interests of their
family, advancing to the position of chief minister.
Gulab Singh had maintained
neutrality during the wars between the Sikhs and the
British. After the Sikhs had lost, the British signed
a treaty with Gulab Singh in 1846 ceding Kashmir to
him. The Maharajas who followed were Ranbir Singh
(1857-1885), Pratap Singh (1885-1925), and Hari Singh
(1925-1947).
Sheikh Abdullah became an
important political leader in Kashmir in 1932 when he
founded a political party called the Muslim
Conference. In 1939, an attempt was made to make the
party broad based by renaming it the National
Conference. But Muslim Conference continued its
existence amongst the Muslims of the Jammu province.
The National Conference now worked to obtain political
reform in the State. Its manifesto was markedly
left-wing like the policies of the Congress party.
Politically, events were
moving very fast. Ram Chandra Kak was the prime
minister of Kashmir in late 1946 when Sheikh Abdullah
launched his movement against the Maharaja. Ram
Chandra Kak, a distant relative, started his career as
an archaeologist. His administrative abilities
eventually led to his appointment as the chief
secretary of the Maharaja, a position he held for many
years. Abdullah and his supporters were arrested.
Jawaharlal Nehru, to show his solidarity with
Abdullah, entered the State although he had been
ordered not to do so. Ram Chandra Kak had him arrested
too. Fortunately, the Congress Party prevailed upon
Nehru to return to Delhi.
These events made Nehru
unremittingly hostile to Ram Chandra Kak and the
Maharaja. It appears that Nehru did not understand the
political complexities of the Jammu and Kashmir State.
His politics in general was determined a great deal by
ideas of Russian communism and English socialism. He
viewed history in terms of class struggle, so he
failed to understand that the ethnic and linguistic
diversity of the State required a delicate balance.
Sheikh Abdullah was a sectarian leader of the Kashmiri
Muslims, who constitute just a third of the population
of the State. Nevertheless, Nehru decided to support
Abdullah completely. It was the unconditional support
of Nehru for Sheikh Abdullah that was responsible for
the reluctance of the Maharaja and Ram Chandra Kak to
accede to India.
Mahatma Gandhi visited
Kashmir now. Soon the pressure from the Abdullah
forces and the Congress party in Delhi caused the
Maharaja to dismiss Ram Chandra Kak as prime minister
on August 10, 1947. Sheikh Abdullah was released from
the jail on September 29.
Subhash was born in March
1947 in Sathu at home. I saw Sarojini and him as soon
as I was able to return from Shopian, which was two
days later. In six weeks Sarojini and the children
accompanied me to Shopian. The house by the bus stand
was not large enough for the family, so we rented a
house in Batapore from one Madho Ram Kichlu. There was
plenty of room for Avinash to play and run about.
In summer, Babuji with family
arrived from Kapurthala to spend a month with us. We
decided to go to Aharbal falls for a picnic. While on
the hard granite ledge of the falls I slipped and was
saved from a certain death by the arrest of my fall at
a crack in the ledge.
I remember the summer as hazy
and without cheer. Although the talks for independence
were on, there were threats of carnage being made by
the Muslim League, which insisted on a partition of
India based on religion. It was clear that political
freedom would be messy. But in spite of these alarms
nobody had an inkling of the holocaust to follow.
Perhaps the weather was a foreboding of things to
come. The newspapers were full of rumours.
On fifteenth August, India
was declared a free sovereign state and holocaust on
either side of the Punjab border began. Hindus and
Sikhs in Pakistani Punjab, and Muslims in Indian
Punjab, were butchered.
Kashmir was linked with the
plains via Rawalpindi and Sialkot. Both these cities
were now part of Pakistan and so it became easy for
Pakistan to pressure Kashmir by stopping the export of
essential items such as petrol, salt, sugar, and tea.
The Indian Independence Act gave the rulers of the
Indian states the freedom to choose either India or
Pakistan or to remain independent, if the geography of
the area so permitted. The Jammu and Kashmir State
borders with the Central Asian nations of the Soviet
Union and Tibet on the north and east, on the west it
has Pakistan, and on the south it has India. With the
lapse of the British overlordship, Kashmir was
independent and it could stay independent if Pakistan
and India permitted. The Maharaja wished to have time
to resolve his predicament. He entered into an
agreement with both Pakistan and India for a status
quo for the present to enable him to reach a decision.
In spite of this agreement,
Pakistan applied its economic blockade on Kashmir.
Petrol and salt, two most essential commodities,
disappeared. Meanwhile we heard stories about Pakistan
sponsored eruptions in Poonch, Kotli, and Mirpur. The
State forces were rushed there to quell the uprisings.
In late October, Pathan tribals from Pakistan
descended on Kashmir massacring Hindus and Sikhs as
they advanced. From the border areas, the Kashmiri
Hindus started fleeing out of the valley to Jammu. The
tribals were guided by Pakistani army officers and
mullahs. They could not have easily crossed Domel had
not the Muslim soldiers of the State army there gone
over to them. Soon they were pillaging northern
Kashmir and threatening Srinagar. The Maharaja was
compelled by this attack to accede to India. The
Indian government flew forces to Srinagar on October
27 and saved it from falling into the hands of the
Pakistanis.
As the roads into Kashmir
were now blocked and passage through Pakistan was
risky, Babuji could not leave for Kapurthala. We went
to Srinagar to see him off, but as he was unable to
leave we stayed on.
Considering the situation of
the stranded tourists and the refugees, the government
of India issued orders that the planes bringing in the
soldiers could ferry out these people. Actually this
decision was taken by Sardar Patel, the deputy prime
minister, who was visiting Kashmir, over the
objections of the Army who argued that the boarding by
the civilians lost them valuable time. Given the
possibility of the fragmentation of the family, Babuji
suggested that he would take Avinash with him to save
at least one of the descendents of my family. Babuji
himself had no son and he felt especially drawn to
Avinash. We agreed, and on the last day of the
arrangements to transport back refugees, Babuji and
his family and Avinash were flown to Delhi where they
were lodged in a refugee camp for two days. Then they
took a passenger train north and they arrived in
Kapurthala after a further two days.
As the local administration
collapsed, I did not return to duty and joined the
militia that was formed to defend the valley. We were
provided with three-not-three guns and all the
ammunition in my unit was stocked with me. We marched
during the day and nightly we kept vigil of sensitive
areas.
But I never saw any real
action. The only exciting event was when one night I
sent a couple of volunteers on the round with a loaded
gun. The gun was to be fired in case of danger to
alert the rest of the group. After they returned, they
relaxed by a bon-fire. Someone was now fiddling with
the gun and it fired accidently. The bullet hit the
logs and it splintered, and one of these splinters hit
a volunteer in the knee. A make-shift stretcher was
made out of a charpai and he was carried to the
hospital. There the splinter, which was embedded very
superficially, was removed and in half an hour this
volunteer was out smiling.
Meanwhile some neighbouring
pro-Pakistani Muslims appeared at their windows and
hurled curses at the Sheikh and the Indian Army. They
were screaming at the accession. Next day we reported
the incident at the Militia headquarters set up at the
Palladium cinema hall, where I worked during the
period of my leave. When my leave came to an end, I
requested to be drafted into the militia for the
duration of the war and to be sent to the border. But
this was not approved.
So I went back to Shopian.
The atmosphere was full of tension. I was alone and I
used to attend the National Conference party office
daily. When I was at Srinagar, a large number of
bakarwals assembled in the mountains across the river
and it was rumoured that they planning to raid the
town. Mr Trilok Nath Muttoo was the munsif magistrate.
He devised a stratagem. He typed out a letter to the
garrison commander telling him to visit Shopian in
force as the tribals were lurking across the river. He
also typed out a reply on a different typewriter
detailing what would be coming and how much they would
need by way of mules and accommodation for officers. A
peon was sent with these letters to Pulwama. The whole
day he lay concealed there and when evening came he
returned to Shopian and delivered the reply to the
munsif. The munsif immediately sent it to the range
officer to reserve the forest rest house for the
officers and to the Zaildar (a Pakistani sympathizer)
to ask the pony owners to assemble in the Shopian town
bazaar. This information frightened the Zaildar, who
fled the town and the tribals (bakarwals) dispersed
and by morning the threat was gone.
Section 29
Since there were no
newspapers, nor radio, rumours were aplenty. The town
had only one radio receiver that worked on a generator
attached to a water mill. I was the only one who knew
many languages and could transcribe news in detail. To
avoid the tedium of writing out the news reports in
Urdu for distribution to villages, I announced that I
could only write in Devanagari which could be
transcribed into the Urdu script by a number of
schoolboys.
There was an acute shortage
of salt and it was strictly rationed. Supplies were
flown in from Delhi until the road connecting the
state with Pathankot was established. My work entitled
me to a special quota of salt.
One day, my peon sought my
agreement for the staff to announce that all the
medicines in the dispensary were used up. He had been
asked by my compounder to approach me. I asked them to
do as they liked without telling me. In those
disturbed conditions no animals were brought to the
dispensary. At the same time many tinctures and
medicinal salts vanished from the market, and so sale
of the dispensary medicines must have been a source of
extra money to my staff.
One day while sitting in my
dispensary, a neighbour brought me a pair of shoes
that fitted me very well and he said that they cost
thirty rupees. I told him that I would not pay more
than fourteen rupees for the pair, he did not agree
and took away the shoes. An hour later he was back and
he handed over the shoes to me at my price. I had no
money at that time and the compounder paid the man
telling me that he would collect it from me when the
monthly salary was distributed next. At the next
salary distribution the compounder did not ask for the
fourteen rupees, nor did I pay him the money. I
reasoned that the compounder had made quite a bundle
in selling the dispensary supplies and this money
would be of no consequence to him. A thief had entered
my mind. Then one day I went down to Srinagar in those
shoes where on entering the house I saw that Subhash
down with an attack of pneumonia and that he had been
prescribed medicines worth fourteen rupees. This
incident made me superstitious; I left the shoes in
Srinagar and never wore them again.
Section 30
Meanwhile, in India, the
states were reorganized and as a result Himachal
Pradesh was born. It needed to set up its veterinary
department. A position of a veterinarian was
advertised at the same salary and working conditions
as in Punjab, where the salaries were twice as much as
in Kashmir. I applied directly and I requested the
director for a transfer to Kathua in the Jammu
province. I talked to my landlord, Madho Ram Kichlu,
about the job in Himachal. He checked my horoscope and
told me that I would be unable to accept the offer.
Those days Kathua was
considered a difficult posting because during the
rainy season the connecting road from Jammu would be
unpassable and it was highly malarial and full of
snakes. The director was pleased at my offer for this
transfer.
The war with Pakistan was
going on. Poonch was cut off by the Pakistanis. Now an
outbreak of rinderpest occurred in Naushehra, which
was the base for military operations against Pakistan
in that sector. My transfer order came with the
condition that, before joining at Kathua, I should
tour Naushehra and immunize the livestock there. After
leaving Sarojini and Subhash at Jammu with some
relatives, I met the deputy director of the Jammu
office (then designated inspector), collected the
cases of serum and took them to the transport office.
Convoys of trucks and buses were escorted by armoured
vehicles since a stretch of the road was within the
range of enemy gunfire. On that stretch I stood
hanging on the safe side of the vehicle. I finished
the vaccinations within a week and sought permission
from the garrison commander to return to Jammu. This
permission was not granted as the civilian officers
wanted more non-military officers in the area. When I
promised them that I would return with new stock of
medicines to set up a dispensary, I was put on an army
vehicle bound for Jammu.
At Jammu, I left the crates
of empty bottles at a shop near the Inspectorate with
a note to the inspector about my return. Next day, I
went to Kathua from where I sent my tour diary to the
director mentioning that the administration at
Naushehra wished for a veterinary doctor.
In Kathua, I converted a
portion of the dispensary building into my residence.
After about a week I heard from the tehsildar at
Basohli about the outbreak of a contagious disease in
the hinterland of Billawar. I packed medical supplies
and left for Basohli by bus which was the oldest
registered in the state with the license plate J&K
1. The bus could not do the curves on the mountain
road easily and it took five hours to do the distance
of twenty five miles. Next day, I asked the tehsildar
to arrange for the transport of the medical supplies
and equipment. It took him two days to arrange a pony
to carry the load. After I reached the village it took
me four days to provide medicinal assistance to all
the sick animals and then I returned directly to
Kathua by a route which was only twenty miles by foot.
Meanwhile, several towns in
the Jammu province had been surrounded by Pakistani
troops. The Hindu populations of these towns had been
swelled by the refugees from the nearby villages. The
outgunned Dogra troops and the citizens sent frantic
requests for reinforcements that never arrived. The
first to fall was Bhimber, this was followed by
Rajauri and Mirpur. Knowing what was to be their fate,
many women committed suicide, others were kidnapped
with their children. After each of the towns had
fallen, the menfolk were put to the sword. Many of the
abducted women were sold in the bazaars of Rawalpindi
and Peshawar.
The situation was very
depressing. I wrote to the Shimla government inquiring
about my application. Within a month of this inquiry I
received an appointment letter that awarded me six
increments in my salary and a posting at Shimla but
this appointment required my release by the J&K
government. I sought this release but it was declined;
I was told that the government could not let technical
personnel go at that critical time.
Gopi Nath Qazi's recently
wedded daughter and son-in-law came to pay their first
visit together to her parents. Qazi asked me to give
his son-in-law company. We spent many evenings at the
Qazi house. We Kashmiris have an old tradition of
drinking kehva at all hours. In Lahore I discovered
that caffeine kept me awake but tell that to a
Kashmiri host! In the Qazi home I drank a lot of kehva
and I was sleepless at nights.
Subhash developed acute and
persistent diarrhoea which weakened him so much that
he could not even sit. Everyday three doctors, the
district medical officer and his wife who the lady
doctor, and another junior doctor checked on him
trying various medicines with no results. I was
worried and felt guilty as everybody had advised me
against the transfer. During one kehva induced
insomnia, as I was pacing the roof of the house, a
voice told me that I should give Subhash simple lime
water. I checked with the doctors at the hospital if
this would harm him. On their assurance that it would
not, I obtained a couple of ounces of lime water and
gave one spoonful to Subhash. After this he started
getting better and the listless face started
brightening up. Later when I consulted my books I
realized that he had developed acute acidity due to
teething and the treatment was right.
In spring Pandit Dama Kaul,
my father-in-law, came from Shimla to visit us and he
stayed for a couple of days. Since the buses did not
come to Kathua then it was a lot of trouble for him
riding ramshackle tongas from the main road to the
town.
Section 31
Babuji wrote now that during
the summer vacation his family would be at Dharmashala
with Jeevan Rishi, who was a lecturer there. He also
asked me to take back Avinash for he was not happy
amongst them and that he missed his mother very much.
Those days the Kashmir government had put in place a
permit system to monitor the entry and exit of people
at the border. I obtained this permit without much
trouble.
There was no vehicular
traffic between Kathua and Pathankot and the road
connecting Kathua to the Jammu-Pathankot highway was a
fair weather road. I borrowed a cycle from a friend in
Kathua and did the seventeen miles to Pathankot in
about two and a half hours. There I went to the
Kashmir trade agent's office where a friend of Babuji
was the accounts officer. He took me home for lunch
and then put me on a bus to Dharmashala. We went over
the picturesque route along the Ravi ghat and reached
Dharmashala in the evening. This town is on a hill and
the houses are on sloping terraces and the streets are
very clean. Avinash was overjoyed to see me.
Next day Asha told me that
she was suffering from tertiary malaria and the doctor
had prescribed half a tablet of a certain medicine. I
told her that when she next felt the onset of
shivering she should take two tablets, instead of the
half tablet, and the fever would be gone. She did the
same and she got well. The doctor had been coming
every alternate day to collect his visiting fees. Next
day when the doctor came again he saw Asha was well.
When he learnt the reason behind this quick recovery,
he beat a hasty retreat.
On the third day I returned
to Pathankot with Avinash. After lunch I rolled a
blanket around the cycle bar for Avinash to sit on and
pedalled off toward Kathua. On the way I took several
breaks to allow Avinash to overcome the fatigue of
riding on the cycle bar.
Avinash's arrival brought a
lot of cheer. Sarojini was very happy to see her son
after an absence of more than two years. I remained
very busy as I was on tour practically every other
day.
Section 32
After some time Sarojini
received an invitation from her sister Aruna in Delhi,
who was expecting a new baby. We all decided to go.
After crossing the Ravi we hired a tonga to Pathankot.
There we boarded a very crowded train to Delhi. I
asked Sarojini to sit opposite me so that I could keep
an eye around her as she was wearing gold jewelry.
Next evening, when we arrived in Delhi, Sarojini
discovered that her necklace was missing. But later
when she was undressing the necklace fell out of her
bodice. Evidently the pickpocket on the train had, in
spite of my vigilance, managed to snip the chain at
the back, but being heavy it slipped into the bodice.
A couple of days later we
went to Chandni Chowk for shopping. We were warned
about pickpockets here too. One of these followed us
very closely as we shopped, and I had to warn him to
get off.
In two or three days, I
developed a fever in Delhi and I decided to return.
From Pathankot I came by tonga to Dinanagar, a town on
the bank of Ravi and crossed the river on foot. The
cold water of the river brought down my temperature. I
had no appetite and at night my temperature rose
again. I took anti-malarial medicine but that did not
help. I went to the hospital the next day and was told
that I had typhoid. I asked a vaid to prepare me a
concoction based on barley water. Suraj Khullar, an
overseer in the irrigation department, was a good
friend. He had heard that I had returned and when he
came to visit me he found me in a bad shape. Next day
his wife Shanta came to see me and till I recovered
she came every day with barley water and other things.
My temperature finally came down in the next seven
days, but physically I felt very weak.
A week or two later, Maharaja
Hari Singh visited Kathua and people from the far
corners of the district came for his darshan. Amongst
these was a group of carpenters who came from the
hills in Jasrota across Ujh river about fifteen miles
away. After the darshan they came to me asking to
accompany them to control an outbreak of hemorrhagic
septicemia in a herd of buffaloes. My legs were not
strong enough for this journey. Fortunately, the
villagers had brought a pony with them. When I agreed
to go with them they purchased some vegetables for me
and put me on the pony. We reached the village in the
evening and they put me up in a guest house. Next four
days we vaccinated the animals in and around the
village. With the rest, the ghee, the milk and the
care at the village I regained my energy. On the
return there was no animal for me to ride so we walked
upto Hiranagar in the hope of getting a lift there.
But we only saw a stream of army trucks on the road.
No civilian vehicles were to be seen and we walked the
entire distance to Kathua. Bua Ditta, my peon, was
completely exhausted at the end.
My supervisor, A.C. Gupta,
came on an inspection tour of twelve days in the rainy
season. Those day the custom was for a boss to stay
with a family as a guest. But in the absence of
Sarojini it was a great inconvenience. I was irritated
with his sponging off me for so long. Nature came to
my rescue! It rained so hard for the first four days
of his trip that Kathua was cut off from the adjacent
areas and he did not get the feasts that would have
been his on his inspections. On the sixth day, the sun
shone and a butcher's shop opened. But Bua Ditta who
did the cooking messed up that day. The meat was
watery and tasteless and A.C. Gupta thought that this
was done deliberately at my behest. After he left I
asked Bua Ditta why the meat was so bad. He told me
that after he cooked the meat the saucepan spilt over
on the stove and he picked up the meat pieces, washed
them and cooked them again. After this incident I got
a letter weekly from the inspectorate as to why I was
living in the dispensary. I did not enter these
letters in the correspondence register. These letters
continued till the next visit of the director.
The director telephoned me
from Hiranagar that he was coming on his annual tour
to Kathua and he wanted arrangements to be made for
his stay in the rest house. When he arrived, I
introduced a couple of the town bigwigs to him and
this pleased him. Since I was living in the
dispensary, I invited him to have his dinner there.
Next day, during the inspection, he was very angry
when the compounder was unable to answer some
technical questions. And he did not like it when I
tried to prompt the compounder. Later on his return
from a trip to Basohli, he told me that some people
were objecting to my stay in the dispensary. Perhaps
he had tried to suggest this by being short with the
compounder. In any event, I now rented a house in the
centre of the town.
Section 33
Sarojini and the children
went from Delhi to Shimla, where her family now lived.
Sarojini's brother Kashi Nath Kaul, and his wife
Chandrani and daughter Nikki, had moved there some
time ago when he began working for a bank there. Now
his parents and brothers, who were at college and
school, also lived with him. My eldest sister-in-law
Kamala and her husband Pushkarnath also lived in
Shimla.
When I received a letter from
Sarojini in Shimla asking me to bring her back, I took
one week's leave and left on the
Pathankot-Kalka-Shimla train. The picturesque mountain
train ride from Kalka to Shimla went through about one
hundred tunnels. The train arrived late at about four
thirty in the afternoon. I was wearing very worn pants
and a sharp edge of the train seat ripped the bottom
and I walked from the station to the house on foot
with the shirt out to hide the tear. On the way I saw
Kamala and Sarojini walk on a lower road on the hill
and, since I was in a hurry to change my trousers, I
asked them to shout the instructions to reach the
house.
The return was uneventful.
Towards the close of that summer, Bayaji informed me
that Gauri's marriage was fixed and he wanted clothes,
material for suits and other paraphernalia to be
purchased. I went to Pathankot to do the shopping.
Bayaji wanted me to ask Sarojini to contribute some of
her personal gold. Sarojini offered her brand new ten
tola gold bangles. At devagun, Sarojini put the
bangles on Gauri in the presence of all the relatives
and they were dumbfounded that she, a young bride
herself, could sacrifice so much of her stridhan.
Meanwhile, Didda returned the chain with the locket to
Sarojini; this was the piece that had been presumed
lost but had been lying in Didda's safe custody.
Sarojini put this around Gauri's neck.
Section 34
Because it was near the
highway connecting Punjab and Kashmir, Kathua assumed
great importance. Officers and ministers passing
thro\-ugh the town stayed with Ghanshyam, the deputy
commissioner.
Feeling self-important,
Ghanshyam assumed the airs of a feudal lord. He
purchased a horse from the Maharaja's stables and he
asked me to come to his compound to examine the horse.
But when I arrived he tried to order me around and so
I asked him to send the animal to the dispensary.
Ghanshyam was treating other officers in the district
shabbily as well. My friends and I often played
badminton in the compound of the subjudge. Whenever we
found Ghanshyam wanting to join us, we would pack up
and leave.
Afzal Beg, the revenue and
animal husbandry minister, paid several visits to
Kathua, but I kept away from these functions. The main
reason was that I did not wish to invite his attention
to me so that he would not think of a subsequent visit
to the dispensary and discover that I lived on the
premises. Ghanshyam asked me why I had been absent and
if I disliked the minister. I gave some excuse.
The director soon wrote about
a new visit. I borrowed a nice bed from a friend and
got a room ready for him in the dispensary. When he
found this arrangement rather than the usual one at
the dak bungalow he appeared pleased. He liked my
explanation that I had moved from the dispensary on
his explicit advice.
He dined at our home. Next
day he visited the dispensary and told me that
everything was above reproach. In the evening we went
out for a walk and he was pleased when he saw most
people were greeting me.
A.C. Gupta's telegram arrived
one day saying that he would be passing through Kathua
that evening. Since the information arrived late, we
fixed up the same room in the dispensary for his stay.
Fortuitously, Sarojini had cooked meat that evening
and she put together a few more things. Gupta liked
the food. He asked Bua Ditta privately about my
income. Bua Ditta explained that my rent was thirty
rupees a month (actually it was only ten rupees) and
that I was able to maintain my standard of living on
the money order of one hundred rupees I received
regularly from relatives in Punjab. (Actually I
received no such money.) Bua Ditta explained to him
that I had moved to this expensive house as desired by
him; A.C. Gupta now expressed remorse. The story is to
highlight that the palate rules the mind.
Section 35
In October 1949, we went
again to Srinagar to participate in the mekhala
ceremony of Kamala's sons. I was made the caretaker of
the house and so everyone but me had fun.
In April 1950, transfer
orders arrived for me to join a travelling unit that
would work in Kashmir in summer and in Jammu in
winter. There were two such units. My unit operated
out of Verinag, which is where the river Vitasta
originates from a spring. The emperor Jahangir built a
fine stone enclosure around this spring. We were to
tour villages and provide medical assistance. I was
assigned a Hindu peon, who cooked my food.
Then, in August, I was asked
to accompany a VIP group to the Amar Nath yatra. I was
provided with a riding pony and three pack ponies for
tent and medicines and a cook. Bayaji and Tika Lal (Bayaji's
son-in-law and Kamala's husband) accompanied me.
With the start of the yatra I
sent my baggage ahead and followed the animals to see
if any pony was lagging behind due to any ailment. I
did not care to ride the pony myself so I let it be
used by any struggling yatri. The first stop was at
Chandanwari. Next day, starting early, we crossed a
snow bridge and began ascending the steep incline of
Pissoo Ghati that took one and a half hours. Next was
a relatively flat track, along a stream, to the
Sushramnag lake now more popularly known as Sheshnag
lake.
Sheshnag is an emerald lake
topped by five pinnacles that look like the multiple
hoods of the mythical snake on whom Vishnu lies
between dissolutions of the universe. Huge chunks of
ice float in the lake in which the devotees take a
dip.
The plateau on which the camp
is placed is called Vavjin, Vayuvarjana in Sanskrit,
meaning demonic wind in popular etymology, and it
blows very hard there. From Vavjin we went up the
Bumsin pass at 13,000 feet and went down on the other
side to cross Panchtarni (Panchatarangini), a high
valley drained by five streams. This crossing took us
to a fine plateau where tents were struck. On the
fourth day the yatris went to the Amar Nath cave,
bathed in the Amarkantak stream outside the cave and
then had darshan. By eleven in the morning we were
back at the camp. The next day we returned to
Chandanwari. On route my job was to examine the sick
animals and register the dead ones for insurance
claims.
The sixth day we were back in
Pahalgam. Two more days were needed to settle the
claims of the pony contractors and tent suppliers.
When I returned to Srinagar with my travel bills I was
asked to pay a cut to the office staff. As I refused
to do so, I never received this money due to me.
The day I arrived in Srinagar,
Sarojini was in labour and was admitted to the Rattan
Rani hospital where Shakti was born. In October, our
camp at Verinag closed for the winter. I was given ten
days at Srinagar to join the winter camp in Jammu.
Sri Aurobindo died in 1950.
He had foretold a great future for India, a
reawakening. But all signs made it clear that the path
to such a renaissance would be long and hard. We had
hoped that Aurobindo would provide spiritual guidance
to a resurgent India. But it was plain to see that
Indian politicians had abandoned their oft-repeated
ideals and they were behaving like feudal lords.
The passage to political
independence had been a journey through rivers of
blood. Although partition of India had been done on
the insistence of Muslim League, Britain was
responsible in not having set up an orderly transition
and ensuring the safety of citizens. The Congress
party agreed to a division of India without
understanding what such a division entailed. Pakistan
considered itself as the inheritor to the long lost
Mughal empire and the focus of the aspirations of the
Muslims of the entire sub-continent. The Congress
party was in such a hurry to strike a deal that it
sacrificed the interests of the minorities in the
region that became Pakistan.
Kashmir soon became a pawn in
the larger struggle between the West and the Soviet
Union. India was perceived as an ally of the Soviet
Union, therefore the West turned a blind eye on the
condition of the minorities in the new state of
Pakistan. The Congress leaders in India were naive
administrators; there was a lot of talk of creating a
modern, secular India but the politics of the party
encouraged class and religious divides.
Section 36
We arrived in Jammu and,
until permanent arrangements could be made, we got a
room in the half-built Gandhi House. This was common
practice to help the employees who moved to Jammu with
the transfer to the winter capital. I reported to the
deputy director for my next posting but he kept
putting me off. On the fourth day I told him that I
had exhausted my rations and that I had no choice but
to shift to his house till he issued my posting
orders. On hearing this he called the head clerk and
issued my posting to Billawar, a very undesirable
station. The other party was sent to Katra and Vaishno
Devi.
To reach Billawar we had to
go through Kathua where we hoped to hire ponies to
carry our tent equipment and personal goods and, if
possible, ponies to ride. But no saddle ponies were
available so Sarojini rode on a pack saddle which was
quite painful. Shakti was carried in a backpack by one
of my attendants. We had started late and we had to
spend the night at a shop front after we had gone just
a quarter of the way. Sarojini cooked meals for
everyone.
We set out early next
morning. On route, while negotiating a boulder strewn
riverbed, the girthband of the pack horse carrying
Sarojini loosened and started sliding on one side. On
a cry from her, the ponyman rushed to help and he
broke her fall. She was lucky to escape injury. We
reached Billawar in early afternoon. Tents were
erected in the Chaugam (open space), meals were
cooked, and we went to bed.
Next day the attendants got
busy with the cooking out in the open. One was
kneading flour when a large monkey alighted on his
back and, at the same time, another monkey snatched
the whole kneaded flour off the dish. The whole place
was swarming with aggressive monkeys. We could not
wait and so I went to the local numberdar who arranged
a house for me and a room on top of a shop in the
bazaar for my three staff. We hired a woman to wash
the dishes and fetch water from the spring.
My frequent visits to the
surrounding villages attracted the attention of
farmers. The department decided that the animals
should be vaccinated, free of cost. I sent the
vaccination with two of my staff instructing them to
report to me every week. When these fellows failed to
return for ten days, I sent the third attendant to
look for them. The following day the first two guys
returned. Later, that evening, the attendant who went
to search for them came back complaining that the
first two fellows had sought rice and dal from the
farmers for the vaccination and they would not share
it with him. When I questioned the staff about it,
they explained they were not charging the farmers for
vaccination and the rice and dal was each family's
gift to them. As there was no way to return the rice
and dal to the farmers, Sarojini asked that it be
brought to my residence where it was divided among all
the staff.
Billawar's monkeys were very
bold. One evening Avinash insisted that I buy him
fresh semnies from the bazaar. The halwai put these in
a big leaf cup. After a few steps a monkey leapt into
the middle of the street and grabbed the free end of
the cup. Avinash and the monkey pulled at the
different ends until the monkey bared his teeth and
Avinash let go.
The town dogs were scared of
the monkeys. As pups, the monkeys would pull hard at
their ears or tails and this memory put a fear in
them. Iron grilles on the windows prevented the
monkeys from attacking the property of the residents
and the shopkeepers.
The farmers guarded their
grain with the help of mountain dogs who were not
afraid of the monkeys. The monkeys recognized these
mountain dogs as being different from the local
cowardly breed.
I am reminded of an incident
that shows how smart these monkeys were. Our
dispensary room, which was above a shop, overlooked a
courtyard where corn cobs were spread out to dry.
These cobs were being watched by a ferocious looking
dog on a leash. Somehow a young monkey strayed within
the reach of the dog, who grabbed him and pinned him
under his leg. A troop of monkeys started screaming
and threatening the dog, who positioned himself
against the wall with the young monkey still pinned
under. For some time it was a stalemate. Then an older
monkey climbed the roof of the building and rolled a
log about five feet long and half a foot in
circumference. The log fell on the back of the
unsuspecting dog, who was so frightened and hurt that
he let go of the monkey, who was swooped up by its
mother and taken to the safety of the roof.
First winter rain:
the monkey also seems to wish
for a little straw cloak.
--- Basho
Section 37
Before the advent of the
Dogra rule, Billawar was an independent principality.
The town had a high wall around it and, in the middle,
on raised ground was an ancient temple to Shiva. The
rampart was broken in places. The residents of the
town believed that within the ramparts scorpion stings
and snakebites, even those of cobras, were harmless.
The harmlessness within the enclosed town was
attributed to the power of the Shiva temple.
As it got hotter, we were
certain snakes were crawling all over our house. We
thought they were seen even on the ceilings, which
were made of branches pressed down with mud. Sleeping
in the rooms was now sheer terror. We were advised
that we should pour some milky water at the Shiva
temple and collect the run-off and sprinkle it around
the house. This is what Sarojini did and,
miraculously, for the rest of our stay we never saw a
snake in our house.
Once we had an unbroken spell
of heavy rains. The town was cut off and the markets,
lacking new supplies, shut down. The townspeople
believed that rain would stop when the water started
flowing from under the feet of Shiva's battered
statue. I think on this occasion the rain did stop as
predicted. No wonder, there was great veneration for
the temple.
Behind the temple was a wall
of chiselled stone blocks. It was said that at the
death of the ruler a loosened block would fall out.
Because of this there were instructions that any fall
of a stone block should be reported to the deputy
commissioner at Kathua. I am told that when Maharaja
Hari Singh died in Bombay, a stone did fall, although
the information of the death had not yet reached
Jammu.
On thirteenth April, the
Baisakhi day, a great three day festival took place
around the temple. Shops and entertainment stalls were
set up for dancing and singing. This year the medical
unit was without the doctor and the compounder was not
skilled. A patient with a case of blocked urine came
to the dispensary. The compounder sent for me. I tried
to introduce a catheter but the blockage prevented it,
and it led to considerable bleeding. The patient had
an enlarged prostate caused perhaps by arsenic tonic,
popular amongst the villagers as aphrodisiac. It was
late at night and drastic action was called for. I
told the patient and his attendants that I would take
out the urine that night and in the morning, provided
he checked in at the Kathua district hospital the next
day as soon as possible. When promised so, I
introduced a twenty cc record syringe needle into the
bladder from the abdominal side and withdrew urine.
The patient was greatly relieved. I repeated this
operation in the morning. During the procedures the
local quacks and lay practitioners were in attendance.
I forgot all about the case. But four or five days
later I saw the patient loitering in the town and
asked him if he had returned from the Kathua hospital.
He told me that the quack opposite the dispensary had
dissuaded him from going and was treating him with
some local medicines. The quack had apparently used a
large record syringe with a fractured glass barrel
kept together with strings to take out urine a few
times until it started coming out spontaneously.
Sarojini became a celebrity
when she assisted a neighbour's wife in the safe
delivery of a baby. From the next day simple villagers
started bringing their ailing children to her for
treatment which caused her a lot of embarrassment.
Our stay at Billawar came to
an end on May 1, 1951. The tents and the other
paraphernalia was taken to Kathua for storage.
Section 38
In Srinagar, Dr Anwar, who
was the head of the second travelling unit,
accompanied me to pay our respects to the director. On
being seated in his office, the director turned to me
with a red face and started ranting and raving for
having quarrelled and misbehaved in the field. I was
piqued because the whole thing was uncalled for and
asked for his permission to leave. Next day I learnt
that the director actually wished to admonish Anwar
but he was such a coward that he could not do it on
his face. This was a time when people did not always
speak directly!
I was posted to Baramulla and
was asked to conduct rinderpest disease vaccination in
the Pattan and Tangmarg area. Pattan is a town midway
between Srinagar and Baramulla that was founded by
King Shankaravarman who ruled during 883-902. It has
ruins of old temples.
I kept my camp equipment at
Baramulla and toured the area travelling light and
fast. I would spend the nights in Pandit villages
while my Muslim staff would spend the nights in nearby
Muslim villages.
In this area is a cluster of
villages inhabited by Shias. They were more prosperous
than the Sunni Muslims and they had the reputation of
being good hosts. One of my Sunni attendants spent the
night in one of these Shia villages. Some celebration
was going on in this house and so the attendant was
treated to a feast. Now there are some baseless
rumours that the Shias torture and kill Sunni Muslims,
and this belief was deep rooted in the mind of the
attendant. It turned out that this fool believed that
the Shias treat their non-Shia guest with great
hospitality but during the night they pass stakes into
his body. The attendant's fears were magnified by the
good dinner so that, at the first opportunity after
the meal, he fled the house and hid himself on a tree
during the night.
The next morning he came to
me with the story of his supposed narrow escape. I was
very upset and accompanied him back to the village,
where people were already searching for him. The
situation became so tense that I reported the matter
to the authorities and he was dismissed at the end of
the season.
Now I received orders to
conduct the vaccination in areas beyond Baramulla and
a camp at the dispensary became my base. I directed my
staff to work without accepting any money in return.
The days I accompanied my staff things would go fine,
but the days I remained at the camp the staff would
ask for money for early release of the animals to the
owners; I was unaware of all this. When the nearest
region was covered, I crossed the river and set up
another camp eight miles from Baramulla.
One day a messenger arrived
from the deputy director asking me to return to
Baramulla. As the previous camp had been infested with
lice, I decided to go to Srinagar to delouse myself
and get a new bedding before doing so.
At Srinagar, I found out that
my two vaccinators had been suspended for having
charged money for their work. I was asked to conduct
an inquiry. I toured these places again and met with
the numberdars and the chowkidars, but now all these
gentlemen gave me in writing that no money had been
paid. I sent my report to the deputy director and
awaited the revocation of the suspension of the staff.
But nothing happened for several days. One of the
suspended staff now took matters into his own hands.
He sent telegrams on behalf of the village officials
(by forging their signatures), claiming no
wrong-doing. The reinstatement letter now arrived.
We restarted our work, but
not with the same zest. Then, in October, rains came
and there was heavy flooding. The river broke through
its embankments at many places. The Wular lake swelled
up and its waters reached the Pattan area. I saw big
paddy stacks float down the swollen rivers.
Mercifully, after four days the deluge stopped and
people began salvaging what they could of their crops.
What remained of the paddy plants was spread on either
side of the highway to dry. The prices of vegetables
shot up because the vegetable growing area around the
Dal lake was submerged.
In November, our unit was
closed in Kashmir for the winter. I went to the
director and requested a regular appointment reminding
him that the second unit had six-monthly changes of
the staff. I told him that if my transfer would not
come, I would like to take leave for four months to do
a course in poultry management techniques outside the
state. He promised to transfer me after I took my unit
to Jammu. With my hopes up, I went with my family to
Jammu and set up camp at Gandhi Bhawan. Within half an
hour of our arrival, the director and his wife were
also there; they had also been assigned a room there.
For two days, Sarojini cooked for both families. On
the third day, the director and his wife moved out
when they were allotted regular accommodation. We were
the only family left in Gandhi Bhawan.
The director now told me that
my transfer would need some more time. I was not
prepared to take my family to Billawar again, so I
left them at a friend's house with instructions that,
if they did not hear from me within a week, they
should go to Kapurthala.
Section 39
So I was back in Billawar.
Sheikh Abdullah was touring the Jammu province. He was
scheduled to visit Billawar which had been made into a
Naibat, with a Naib Tehsildar in charge. Ram Lal
Khajuria was the district vice president of the ruling
National Conference party. The Naib Tehsildar and
Khajuria approached me for contribution to a fund for
the reception of the prime minister of Kashmir. I told
them that I could not ask my staff to contribute
anything as they were in transit, a hardship
appointment, and personally I had no money to spare.
Since the reception expenses
were being underwritten by the Tawaza, department of
home ministry, I contacted some teachers and
encouraged them not to contribute. The National
Conference party had no grass roots organization in
the area but to make it appear that the high school
students were all party volunteers, they were asked to
wear red caps at the reception, red being the party
colour. I made discreet inquiries and found that the
monitor of the student group was not a National
Conference worker. I advised him that they should wear
their red caps only until just before the arrival of
Sheikh Abdullah. The boys did just this and the
organizers were embarrassed.
In his public address, Sheikh
Abdullah brought up the question of sectarian killings
after partition. But his analysis was one-sided and he
only berated the Hindus. His speech did not go very
well with the audience.
Sheikh Abdullah set in motion
policies that were dividing the population of the
State. His politics was based on exploiting class and
religious conflict. And he had no vision of a modern,
secular government; his policies were transparently
motivated to help his constituency of Kashmiri Muslims
at the expense of the other communities.
In the suburbs Hindu
nationalism was very popular and since I could, unlike
most Kashmiris, speak excellent Hindi, Punjabi, and
Dogri, I was accorded a warm welcome and my schemes
for the welfare of the livestock were immediately
successful. After two months, I received word of
transfer to Basohli.
After checking my
accommodation at Basohli, I crossed the river Ravi by
boat to reach the Dalhousie-Pathankot road and caught
a bus to Pathankot and Kapurthala. After a week there,
we started back accompanied by Asha who wanted to come
too. At the road stop where we crossed the Ravi river,
people were drying mango juice to make aam paapad
(mango juice rolls). Our boat had about forty people
on it. The river was quite fast and the crossing was
full of boulders. The full boat was tugged a way up
and then let loose, the ropes being withdrawn on to
the boat. The start was quite good and the boatmen
were maneuvering it with long poles as it neared the
other end. The ropes were now thrown over to the other
end to be caught by the pullers on the bank, so that
the boat could be pulled in. The first rope caught by
the puller snapped and the boat started drifting down
very fast. The boatmen now frantically used the poles
to arrest the drift and, miraculously, one of the
ropes thrown now was caught and the boat was finally
hauled in.
We walked the one and a half
mile from the river bank to the town in about an hour
because it was all uphill. On the way up we passed a
temple dedicated to Kali. It had long been dilapidated
until a mahatma, recently arrived, declared that the
temple had a Shri Chakra and the decline of the town
was to be attributed to the decline of the temple. He
repaired the temple and soon it became popular with
the townspeople. He started teaching Hindi to students
and to prepare them otherwise to pass examinations for
admission to the Punjab university. A little ahead was
a big gushing spring, which was the source of the
drinking water for the town. The town had an old
masonry water tank, but this water was used for
washing only. Asha got tired of the place in a week
and I had to take her back.
Basohli was also an
independent state before the Dogra Raj. The ruined
palace still showed beautiful frescoes of renowned art
that had escaped the ravages of weather. A massive
tank of stone masonry used to be the source of water
for the town. In its heyday the town was quite big and
prosperous and a centre for Pashmina weaving as was
evident from scores of weavers' shops. These shops now
lay abandoned because the weavers, who were Muslims,
had migrated to Pakistan.
I heard the following story
about how the migration was precipitated. It appears
that some radical Muslims prepared to strike on
Dussehra day when the Hindu population of the town and
the surrounding areas congregated in the Chaugam for
celebrations. Bombs had been made. The peon of the
tehsildar was the ringleader. Providentially one day
before Dussehra the tehsildar needed him in the
office. But the peon was not to be found anywhere. The
tehsildar sent another peon to his house to call him.
The wife told him that he was on the roof. On the roof
he saw many balls being dried which the peon tried
quickly to hide. With the discovery of the bombs, the
Muslims thought it prudent to emigrate.
Section 40
As Baisakhi came, we started
seeing snakes in the town. Our house had three rooms
in a line with the living room on one side and the
kitchen on the other. Our bedding lay stacked for the
day in the middle room on a cross bar. One day, at
dusk, as the children and I were sitting on a charpai
in the courtyard, a big snake, with vermillion marks,
came through the drain and crawled along the wall.
Sarojini was heating milk to make yoghurt in the
kitchen. When she saw the snake she rushed out to
check if our feet were safely tucked up on the charpai.
The wall of the kitchen was very rough and it slanted
slightly towards outside. The snake crawled up the
wall and Sarojini raised an alarm. This brought our
neighbour, a tehsildar, to the courtyard with a torch.
He saw the snake enter a hole in the roof and he
declared that it was a sinduri and quite harmless and
the folks who die of a sinduri bite die of fright and
not poison.
Next day when I looked into
the drain I saw the same snake in it. I poked it with
a stick but it would not budge. Eventually it crawled
out. In Basohli snakes are not killed because they
control the infestation of rats in the houses and in
the fields.
Baisakhi was celebrated on
the river Ravi. Everybody went to the river early in
the morning. The village women took just a couple of
hurried dips in the water, for they believed spending
too much of time in the water decreases the sexual
urge. The fair at the Chaugam had a lot of fun rides
for the children.
Section 41
In May 1952, I was
transferred to Udhampur. This is a largish town that
was founded by Udham Singh, the eldest son of Maharaja
Gulab Singh. The town is on a plateau, 2400 feet above
sea level, and the river Tawi flows below. The
district hospital was in the back of an old palace and
it had four rooms for the dispensary and six or seven
stable rooms. The first of the stable rooms housed the
breeding bull, and the last was for the chowkidar to
keep watch. I used the other stable rooms as the
indoor hospital. The official residence of the
veterinarian had been recently converted into the
inspector's office. So both the inspector and I had to
look for private accommodation.
The house I rented had two
pucca rooms, a kacha kitchen and a dirt compound. It
was near the bus stand which, in turn, stood on an
open area of dirt surface because of which there was a
great deal of dust in the air. We lived in this house
for a year.
In July, Babuji dropped in
for a week. It was during this visit that Jaishree was
born one evening at home; the lady doctor arrived
after the event.
Life was quite hard. There
was tension all around. The Praja Parishad party
wanted the special provisions of the Article 370 of
the constitution to go and it wished for the Jammu and
Kashmir state to be completely integrated into India.
Its slogan was: EK VIDHAN - EK NISHAN, one
constitution and one symbol (flag). In the rest of
India the Jan Sangh party was agitating for
integration.
The movement of people was
regulated by a system where a permit was required to
enter the State; this rankled the nationalists. As the
Praja Parishad movement strengthened, the government
repression was let loose. A battalion of J&K
Rifles was stationed in Udhampur. All the entries into
the town were sealed and any innocent villager coming
on business was beaten and deprived of his valuables.
In the town, the leaders were arrested but there were
others who went underground continuing the movement,
sending parties headed by women. The agitation
remained peaceful until the government agent
provocateurs initiated violence.
On the first day of the
intensive agitation, a procession marched on the
Deputy Commissioner's office. The police encircled the
marchers and would not let them pass. Mr Kaul, the
sub-judge, was the magistrate on duty. Soon there was
violence and Mr Kaul was injured by flying rocks. The
march was thereupon broken up by the police. Next day
when the summary court took evidence, Mr Kaul deposed
that the march had been peaceful until a rock was
thrown from the side of the police which is when the
marchers retaliated. Mr Kaul had a reputation for
honesty and fearlessness. The government pressured him
to change his account without success. Thereafter this
magistrate was never again put on such a duty. He was
greatly respected by the public and the people went to
his house to express regrets for the rock throwing
incident.
Dr Shyama Prasad Mukherjee,
the famed nationalist leader, led a march to the
J&K border at Lakhanpur and he announced his
intention to cross it without a permit. The border was
sealed and Dr Mukherjee was arrested and his
companions were lathi-charged. He was now whisked away
to Srinagar and kept in detention in Gupkar. He had
been ailing, but the Kashmir government made no
arrangements for his medical care. It appeared that
they let him die so that an inconvenient thorn in the
side was removed. The news of his death was suppressed
for some time so that security arrangements could be
made to forestall riots. Although the death was
announced more than twelve hours late, it created an
uproar. The central government was forced to drop the
system of permits for travel between the two parts of
the same country.
Sheikh Abdullah was acting
more and more like a Sultan of Kashmir. He spoke with
a forked tongue; within the valley he spoke against
the central government whereas in Delhi he repeated
slogans of Hindu-Muslim brotherhood. Next he began
transferring the Kashmiri Hindu government employees
to the Jammu area thereby blocking the advancement
opportunities of the Dogras. This policy was one of
the sources of discontent in the Jammu region. There
was tension everywhere in the state. Dreaming no doubt
of an independent Kashmir, the Sheikh became strident
in his criticism of the accession. Abdullah did not
have the temperament to be an enlightened, just
administrator. His favourite response to political
opposition was to extern the person from the State.
Many politicians including Ram Chandra Kak were not
allowed to enter the State. Ultimately the government
of India was compelled to dismiss him and he was
detained in Udhampur.
Bakshi Ghulam Mohammed became
the new prime minister of Kashmir in August 1953.
After Section 144 was lifted, the movement around the
town became normal. Bakshi turned out to be an
extremely corrupt politician. Law and order in the
valley was now maintained by hoodlums and goons, paid
enforcers of the National Conference party.
One wondered how Jawaharlal
Nehru viewed the events in the State. We thought that
corruption and sectarian politics based on quotas were
peculiar to Kashmir; later we discovered that the
administration in several other parts of the country
was also corrupt. Were Nehru's hands tied due to the
hostility of the United States and other Western
powers?
And what could I do as an
individual? My career was a hostage to the quota
politics of the National Conference governments. I
could not resign my job. It appeared that my children
would not get jobs in the State. But we are patient
folks; our ancestors had seen worse oppression. I
decided to dedicate myself to the education of my
children and other young people. Perhaps all one could
hope to do was encourage people to question the new
style of government. Perhaps we could only wait till a
new generation built a new system based on common
sense and universal truths.
Section 42
Meanwhile, I was busy in the
cantonment attending on the small animal pets of the
officers. My inspector assumed I was making a lot of
money in my field practice. He never brought it up in
our conversations but he used all the official methods
to harrass me.
The ministry issued an order
that each veterinarian should be on tour for ten days
in a month. Villagers were busy with their own affairs
unless their animals were sick; so going from village
to village without funds to cover all the expenses
made no sense. The ministry would reimburse at a rate
that was ridiculously low; when animals were sick the
villagers would provide free hospitality so one could
afford to do it. Many veterinarians prepared
fictitious travel programmes and then drew the
travelling allowance which they split with the
inspectorate in Jammu and so no questions were asked.
This I refused to do. I came up with my own method to
beat the ten day rule. As my district was hilly and
lacked proper roads excepting for the highway, I
needed to show considerable time for travel. I would
get travel itineraries approved from the inspectorate
that covered trips of about three days each week. The
day of departure we would all stay home. The next day
we would leave at 4:30 to 5:00 in the morning and
visit the village numberdars in our itinerary, giving
them medicines for animals, and then set out late in
the evening back for Udhampur arriving at night making
sure nobody in the staff, that had been left behind,
saw us. The third day, the day of supposed return, we
would report at work at noon. This system continued
for a good number of months.
I toured the hinterland of
Chineni that leads to Sudh-Mahadev, where an ancient
temple of Shiva exists and a great festival is held on
Shivaratri.
In October 1952 we went to
Srinagar to attend the wedding of Radha Krishen (RK),
my brother-in-law. He was married to Shanta of the
Shangloo family; she was a schoolteacher.
On my return to Udhampur, I
heard that my staff was harassed by the inspector who
had checked the stock register and discovered many
shortages in the stock of toxic drugs. To please the
inspector, my compounder sent the inspector a gift of
almonds, apples and other Kashmiri fruit. This further
whetted the appetite of the inspector. Hoping to
receive a bribe from us he did not write his report on
his finding. When I returned and heard the story, I
was able to show the compounder that the books were
not balanced because all entries had not been made.
Now the inspector arrived for his shakedown of me and
he was surprised that the compounder did not appear to
be awed by him any more. And he found that the books
were actually balanced. Looking sheepish, he lamely
argued that I had used the drugs recklessly. I repied
that it was my prerogative as a physician to use drugs
the way I thought fit.
The inspector now asked the
director to send me to Kishtwar for some time to
control a cattle epidemic. This was in spite of the
fact that Kishtwar was 160 miles from Udhampur, and
the doctor at Bhadarwah was a hundred miles nearer.
Perhaps the reason was that my little hospital was
caring for a sick patient on an indoor basis and he
wanted make sure that I did not receive the customary
doctor's fee. The inspector said this to the animal's
owner, who related the story to me.
The year was 1954 and
Sarojini was expecting. The due date was quite near. I
boarded the bus to Kishtwar with a heavy heart. These
buses took one to Doda and the rest of the distance
had to be covered on foot. Our bus reached Doda at
noon. On this bus I had struck up a conversation with
a Kashmiri Pandit who was an overseer at the
construction of the road being built to Kishtwar. We
agreed to march together and we spent the night at his
campsite half way to Kishtwar. Next day, I accompanied
another party and we reached Kishtwar by ten in the
morning.
Kishtwar is a charming little
place that is often called little Kashmir. It has the
same altitude as Srinagar and so its climate is
somewhat similar. The town is situated on a plane that
is about four miles by two miles. On three side of
this plane are mountains, and on the west is a ravine
1300 feet that has been cut by the river Chenab. The
Kishwari language is a dialect of Kashmiri.
For a proper diagnosis, I
conducted a number of post-mortem examinations. My
strategy was to recommend several preventative
measures. By the sixth day, I heard no new reports of
sick animals. Actually, the disease had almost petered
out by the time I arrived and I did not see very many
sick animals. I had no work now, but I could not leave
because my orders were to stay until I heard from the
inspector. I had about decided to defy orders, when on
the evening of the tenth day I received a telegram
from the higher office at Jammu that I should return.
I left at four in the morning and by ten we were half
way to Doda. There I got a lift on a bus. By eleven we
were in Doda. Two buses were departing, one was almost
full and the other was hawking for passengers; I got
into the second bus. The driver looked quite flush
with liquor. He started ahead of the full bus but
within a mile he twice lost control of the steering
and then he rammed into the hillside. The bus that was
following picked us up and somehow we squeezed in. I
got down from the bus at Udhampur at six. The
inspector happened to be passing by and when he saw me
he was furious. I showed him the telegram and he went
on his way without further talk.
On fourth of July 1954 Neeraj
was born. It was soon after this that department was
reorganized and the post of inspector at Udhampur was
abolished. Our pay scales were raised from 150-10-250
to 250-25-500. I was transferred to Kulgam in the
valley as the incharge of the dispensary. We were
returning to Kashmir after several years in the
extreme heat of the Jammu province and now we had five
children.
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