"A hundred miles of snow-clad mountain peak; On either side uprear their heads to heaven. And, flecked with light and shade and yellow foam, Broad-bosomed Jhelum wends his stately way."
- C.R. Tollemache

The Jhelum is the largest and longest river of the sub-Alpine region of Asia's Switzerland. Its source is the spring of Verinag. The small rivers, Vishau, Rambi Ara, Romshi, Dudganga, Sukhanag and Ningal, and the mountain streams, Liddar, Arpal, Tsunti Kul, Sind, Arin, Madamati, Pohru and still others, constitute its tributaries. The Kishanganga river swells its roaring waters at Domel. Flowing down the mountains into the eighty-four miles of the fertile alluvial valley, and, then again over foothills and spurs into Pakistan and onward, it sees and hears nature in all her moods. On its serpentine course, it is swept by many a wind and swelled by rain and snow through the many tributaries.

The Jhelum is of as much historical interest as the Ganga, the Thames, the Tiber and the Rhine are to the countries wherein they flow. The Chenab, the Ravi, the Indus, and the Tawi have their source in the Himalayas like the Jhelum, but they haven't that romantic interest attached to them which is the case with the Jhelum.

The serpentine river of the Happy Valley, flowing ever so lazily as well as majestically, used to be called the VITASTA, in the hoary days. But where was the Vitasta, when according to a legend, borne out by geological research, Kashmir was a vast lake, namely, Satisar ? Of course, it came into being when Kashyapa, the grandson of god Brahma, drained the valley, named after him, Kashyapamar - now Kashmir. Ashoka, the great Buddhist monarch, cruised up and down the Vitasta to see for himself the Viharas and Buddhist monasteries which dotted the length and breadth of the Valley. Brahmins of Kashmir were mostly Buddhists in the pre-Christian era. Some of them became great Buddhist missionaries. They must have used the Vitasta, nature's highway of the 'Eden of the East', a great deal. Curious barge-like boats, remote ancestors of the Khochoo boats, formed the conveyance that kissed the bosom of the Vitasta everywhere. In these ark-like boats were carried huge stone slabs and blocks needed for the construction of Viharas and monasteries, some of which still exist, though in ruins.

The very word Vitasta makes me reminiscent of the glory that was Kashmir. Srinagar, the capital of the State, situated on the banks of the Jhelum, was once known as Pravarapura. It was the city founded by Pravarsena II (79-139 A.D). Parihaspura, situated about 20 km from Srinagar, was the capital of the illustrious conqueror Emperor Lalitaditya, who lived in the eighth century. Parihaspura was also situated on the banks of the Vitasta. The Vitasta bore the weight of the mightly barges that carried the massive blocks of grey limestone which were used in the construction of the stupas, monasteries and temples in Parihaspura, Lalitapura and other cities, for in that age, Buddhism and Hinduism flourished side by side in Kashmir and her vassal states. The stone drainage system of Parihaspura, whose traces can be seen in this 'City of Stones', as the folk call it, led into the all purifying Vitasta. When you visit these grand ruins, where you see the largest of massive blocks used in Kashmir architecture, you notice that the plateau is an isolated one. The Jhelum flows miles beyond. How is it so?

Thereby hangs a tale. Suyya, the founderof Suyyapur, now Sopur, the greatest engineer of medieval Kashmir, diverted the course of the Vitasta and made it meet the Sind nalla at the so-called Prayag, otherwise known as Shadipore. Before the time of Avantivarman (855-883 A.D.) - the royal patron of Suyya - the Valley was inundated too often by the Jhelum. His capital, Avantipore, where are to be seen the ruins of his two temples by the roadside, flanked the Vitasta. The site was chosen on a plateau, to escape the depredations of the unruly snake that the Vitasta too often grew into, when the high snows melted or rain fell continuously for weeks together. Suyya had the engineer's vision to the defect of the course of the Vitasta. He had the Vitasta's bed cleared at several points where it constricted between mountains.* Thus was the Vitasta rendered harmless. Canals were dug out from it and Kashmir became prosperous.
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* Here, I may take the reader back to hoary antiquity to acquaint him with the interesting genesis of the Wular Lake, the largest fresh water lake (20 by 8 km) of not only Kashmir but of the rest of India. In the reign of Sundersena (2082-2041 B.C.), the capital of the Valley was Samdimatnagar, whose site is no other than Wular Lake itself. "A destructive earthquake occurred by which the earth in the middle of the city of Samdimatnagar was rift and water gushed out in a flood and soon submerged the whole city" (Pandit Anand Kaul). The learned writer added, "By the same earthquake a knoll of the hill at Baramulla near Khadanyar tumbled down which choked the outlet of the river Jhelum and consequently the water rose high at once and drowned the whole city together with its king and the inhabitants. This submerged city is now the site occupied by the Wular Lake." Till, lately, the spires of submerged temples were to be seen over the lake when the water level fell in winter. Zain-ul-Abidin built Zain Lank Island on one of these stone temples. Its ruins still exist on the islet.
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From 10th to 14th century A.D., the government by Hindu kings and queens was made unstable by the warlike hordes - Damaras, Tantriyas and others. They manned small swift craft over the passive, submissive Vitasta. As Kalhana, the medieval poet-historian of Kashmir, put it: "These hordes were well skilled only in burning, plundering and fighting". Their places of shelter on the banks of the Vitasta were veritable castles, impregnable and strong. They were controlled only by more or less despotic monarchs like Harsha, Kanishka, Mihirigula and others, or by the unscrupulous diplomacy of Didda Rani and other queens.

Much earlier than these unsettled times, the Capital had shifted to Srinagar, the present Srinagar. When the Muslim invaders conquered and settled in Kashmir, they built their palaces on the banks of the Jhelum on the sides of the canals that were excavated from the Jhelum. Among these the Mar Canal commemorates Sultan Zain-ul-Abidin, still popularly remembered by the folk as Badshah (great ruler).

The calm flow of the Jhelum did not bring peace to the zealot's heart of Sultan Sikandar, better known as Sikandar the Idol- breaker, who, abetted by a convert prime minister, ravaged and razed to the ground magnificent monasteries and massive stone temples, almost wiping out the glory that was Kashmir. He built no structures to replace them. But the Jhelum did pacify and lend peace of mind to the Sultan's son, Sultan Zain-ul-Abidin (1420-70 A.D.). He spanned the bridge, Zaina Kadal, over the Jhelum, in Srinagar. (Near the bridge, on the right bank, is to be seen his tomb, contiguous to the site of the five-domed stone temple of Pravarasena II). He dug canals out of the Jhelum. The Jhelum proudly carried this "Akbar of Kashmir" up and down the Valley in magnificent boats, when he would visit Zaina Lank, the island of the Wular Lake where he had constructed a small palace and a mosque.

Much more by way of grand spectacles were the river processions of the Moghuls among whom Jahangirand Shah Jahan stand out as the greatest lovers of Kashmir. Jahangir visited Verinag, the source of the Jhelum, 75 km above Srinagar. He loved this spot more than any other beauty spot of Kashmir. In 1612 A.D., he enclosed the gushing waters of the blue-water spring in an octagonal basin. In the Moghul building spanning the spring he had the famous picture gallery of Moghul potentates, princes and allies. On the bank of the Jhelum in Srinagar, Nur Jehan constructed the mosque of white polished stone, Pather Masjid, opposite Shah Hamdan's famous mosque. Tearfully, Jahangir left Verinag and Kashmir, when he had paid Kashmir the fourth visit in 1617 A.D., and died on his way over the steep rugged Himalayas with the wish that he wanted "Nothing but Kashmir" on his lips.

Shah Jahan completed the work of his illustrious father at Verinag, by building the aqueducts. The Jhelum saw the glory of the reign of this lover of splendour. He loved the Dal Lake more than he loved the Jhelum. But the Dal pours itself into the Jhelum and so would Shah Jahan's royal boats cross from the Dal to the city over the sinuous Jhelum. The austere Moghul, Aumngzeb, visited Kashmir only once in 1664 A.D. He wasn't much of a lover of nature. He did not fall in love with Kashmir, nor for that matter with the Jhelum.

The Jhelum saw black deeds of rash fury of the Afghans from 1750 A.D. onwards for over sixty years. Its fair bosom was tainted with corpses of the thousands of victims of the fanatic rage of the barbarous Afghans. It expressed its wrath through rising in floods many times, causing fearful devastation to man, his cattle and crops and other property, during this and later Sikh regime, which was heralded in 1819 A.D. Among Sikh Subedars, one at least gave the old happy look to the Jhelum. He was Col. Mian Singh, who was a popular governor and whose river processions over the Jhelum were a sight to see.

The tradition of these processions was carried on by Dogra rulers, whose sway began in 1846 A.D. Especially, did Maharaja Pratap Singh organise the halts of these processions, for, from Baramulla, he would cruise up in a royal boat that had a becoming retinue. Maharaja Hari Singh continued the practice for many years. The Jhelum bore Pandit Jawaharlal Nehru in spectacular river processions when he visited Kashmir in 1941, 1945 and 1948.

All this, and more, had been experienced and known by the Jhelum. The Vitasta - or Veth, into which the word Vitasta degenerated - saw the march of the ages, the variegated drama. Its sleepy flow hardly communicated what it knows; unless you dream back the past as I do often.

At very many fond places, mostly solitary spots, I have watched the Jhelum flow by. Let me recollect.

I have left the village far behind. Here I am seated on a bank of the Jhelum. Around me irises flash their heads in clusters. Noiselessly, majestically, the Jhelum glides along. It is gone muddy, due to recent rains. But that does not mar its calm, unruffled look, as it flows past those two picturesque islands, lush with maize and turf and willows all around them. A kingfisher broods over the bank near me, in a holy trance, awaiting innocent prey. Village women, clad in red and yellow pherans, gracefully carry the muddy water in their earthen pitchers on their heads. They walk in a line. Several are giggling. A ponywala descends the muddy ghat to give his obstinate pony a drink. A child is swimming the "women's swim". The opposite bank is lined with tall poplars, leafy Chinars, and graceful willows, in the sylvan beauty that suffuses Kashmir countryside. The reflection of Chinars, garbed in their autumnal glory as reflected in the Jhelum, flash upon my mind's eye; so do other remembered sights of the Jhelum. A strange sense of peace used to dawn on my restless soul, then 'cribbed, cabin'd and confined' in city surroundings and the humdrum routine life. A deeper calm, that is over and above our hurried existence, would pervade my being for the moment.

The scene shifts to spring. I sit in a chair on the Bund of the city, above the Srinagar Club, overlooking the broad-bosomed Jhelum. The comfortable sun scintillates on the Jhelum. The ripples dance in circles. Somehow the tiny wavelets remind me of life's unending march, of something that goes on for ever and ever in spite of the seeming transitoriness of human life. The saga of the Valley that the Jhelum knows so well catches a significance, a meaning that is purposive and progressive. My reverie is disturbed by the cackles of the Hanjis fowl, noise of their children and their raised voices. A fisherman cautiously drops his outspread net. Splashes die down as the net disappears to strangle its catch of the finny tribe. Again I look and wonder at the broad and sparkling bosom of the Jhelum. Have stars come down to inhabit on the Jhelum ? The conceit vanishes as I look at the farther bank where the Chinars are not yet clothed in their green barb. Through their skeletons and over them I see the distant snow-draped mountains whose smooth shoulders shine in the spring. Sun-white clouds hover above the mountains. The calm Jhelum once again soothes the fever of my soul.

To admire best the sinuous serpentine beauty of the Jhelum, you must climb the Shankaracharya Hill from Srinagar. Half an hour's climb rewards you with one of the finest views of the world. You trace the zigzag course of the Jhelum creeping like a snake over the fair Valley, that rises towards the karewas which form the picturesque foothills. It is this romantic motif that has inspired the designers of Kashmir. They repeat this pattern of the Jhelum very often in their embroidery on shawls and Jamvars.

Flow on, Jhelum! Lend me the serenity that thou hast! Let me share thy calm, which thou hast persevered down the chequered ages! I can ever forget the wistful hours, I have spent on thy banks, or, when ferried up or down in a shikara or a house boat, I have dreamily looked and gazed at thy fair bosom, unconsciously assimilating thy message of peace and poise.

Reminiscing over these musings, after two score years, in mid-1991, I ponder over the cataclysmic changes that the Jhelum has witnessed during this time-frame. After having seen the best of times, the historic Vitasta flew by peacefully while its banks were sullied with floating bodies of Kashmiris, done to death in the most gruesome manner, and its water besmeared with the blood of innocents.

The Jhelum, however, has a resilience all its own. It beckons to the migrants, who have fled the un-'Happy Valley' that better times will return, that the trauma of militancy is a passing phenomenon in the march of history. Peace and happiness will return to the beautiful Himalayan environs criss-crossed by the broad-bosomed Jhelum. That is my fervent wish and devout prayer. Amen!