Reflections of Dal Lake

A reflection is more than simply an optical effect. It presents a different view – an opportunity to look at oneself or others in different light. Some notice details, some look for flaws while others see what they want to.  But reflections can often tell you a story – as the old monkey tells Simba in ‘The Lion king’, you just need to look a bit harder.

SM and I were looking hard alright! After our arrival in Srinagar in the early evening, we began our hunt for a hotel. After several deliberations, we finally chose the Akbar hotel on the banks of the lake near Dal gate. No tour of Srinagar is complete without a Shikara ride on the Dal Lake and that was right on top of our checklist!

The bazaar

The floating vendors

Our first sight of Dal Lake is a line of Houseboats and Shikaras lined near Dal gate. The Shikaras are on the banks while the houseboats are across the canal. Since the houseboats are stationary, you wonder why they too aren’t on the banks – perhaps it’s to give tourists a feel of staying afloat in the middle of the lake, or perhaps it is so that tourists HAVE to take a Shikara each time they need to go to shore! Your guess is as good as mine.

The thinking boats

We hire a Shikara for an hour around the lake. His name is Shah Jahan (Yes, boats can be male). We are to move in and around Dal gate area itself, before the Nehru Park. It doesn’t take long though for vendors to come up in their smaller, sometimes open boats right besides ours, selling anything and everything from carpets to coke. And it’s not a few of them – they are everywhere. Alongside some of the house boats, are handicraft shops – some stand on stilts, others on a sort of earthen reclamation. Darting between the boats and the weeds are ducks – plenty of them. It seems more like the floating market of Bangkok! In fact our boatman tells us that in the early hours of the morning, the lake hosts a floating vegetable market- one of its kind in India. The boatman repeatedly urges us to take a look at some of the handicrafts in the shops – He is obviously in for a small cut if we buy something from there – it’s a common practice across the country. We turn out of the smaller canals into a wider area – there are fountains, many more houseboats and more floating vendors. The interesting part is not really the houseboats but their names. The boats are christened after almost anything from places, both Indian and foreign – Montreal, Prince of Bombay, Lake Victoria, Khyber etc to philosophers – Plato, Aristotle etc. Some might prefer to differ, but to me, it’s Indian ingenuity at its best. The sun is now setting, and the lights in the houseboats and the roads near the lake are coming on – time for the markets to wind up, time to get back to shore.

Sunset at the lake

Lake Placid

The evening ride just wetted our appetite for more – another Shikara ride at sunrise was arranged, a longer one that would take us past the Char Chinar and drop us off near the Nishat gardens.

Misty morning

We set out in the early hours, while darkness still covered the city. The city isn’t awake yet and Dal Lake isn’t either. We are groggy and our thoughts are as hazy as the misty panoramas before us. The lake is showing us her other side, her true self. At 5:30, the call to prayers pierces the silence. The dark, deep blue sky slowly begins to get streaks of orange. In the meantime, our boatman, an elderly man, perhaps in his sixties, breaks into song. I can’t tell the language or the song, but from our earlier conversations, I assume its Urdu, from the tune and the intensity, I assume it’s a song of praise, perhaps a hymn. Surreal is not the word! Urdu hymns, eagle cries up above and just the paddle sweep of the oar – I don’t want the sun to rise; I just want time to freeze! Neither SM nor I say a word lest we disrupt the serenity. Mist creeps in from the poplar lined banks and a few other boats can be spotted in isolation. Heaven knows what they are doing out here at this ungodly hour. Perhaps they, like us are here to experience God himself! Slowly, but surely the sun rises, sparkling the lake and making clear the horizons, just in time for us to get clear reflections of the Char Chinar. The Char Chinar is a manmade island in the middle of Dal Lake that harbours four Chinar (Maple) trees, which change colour with the season – now its yellowish orange. In a month from now, it will be red! We stop at the island for a break and to admire the lake around.

...and the sun begins to rise

Lone boatman

....and another

The Char Chinar

Yellow Maple

Reflections!

The sun is out now – the images in the water are brighter but distorted by the ripples of the falling maple leaves. As the city awakes, the tranquillity of the lake will be shed off to give way to the hustle of floating markets of commerce and the bustle of life itself. Dal Lake awakes and sleeps with Srinagar, the city and her people; it hosts everything you could associate with the city – carpets, shawls, Kashmiri food, tourists and beauty. She is a microcosm of Srinagar, a reflection of more than life afloat on her waters; it’s a reflection of the character of the Kashmiri city – aspirations of modern civic life with a desire for peace and calm - something for me to reflect on as I head to shore.

POINTERS

• October and November is off-season – bargain for hotel, Shikara rates
• Unlike the houseboats of Kerala, the ones on Dal Lake don’t move around – it’s just an experience of staying afloat on a lake and vendors selling handicrafts in a boat at your doorstep.

Chasing Glaciers - Suru valley

It’s simply water in its solid form. We add it to our scotch, we devise sports around it but we take it for granted! Ice, in its natural form creates some the world’s most amazing landscapes – white crowns for towering mountains, complete biospheres near the poles and glaciers that sculpt out valleys or perhaps fjords. Here in Kashmir and Ladakh it creates nothing short of the same. It’s easy to sight white mountain crests in the Himalayan North, but not really glaciers. The slow icy rivers are easily the most reticent of landforms – they stay aloof, slowly navigating the higher, inhospitable regions of Himalayas. It’s a privilege to see one, an adventure to get to one and I am on my way to the Darang-Durung glacier in the heart of western Ladakh.

A Kashmiri autumn

Srinagar brings to mind gory and horrific images of bomb blasts and terrorism. But, the Srinagar we arrive to is peaceful - hazy and overcast, but calm. +Salil Malik  (my batch mate and friend) and my spirits are raised when we get a vehicle to Kargil within the hour. Our driver, Muhammad Ali, is soft spoken and courteous unlike his namesake. His name might suggest a more Muslim, perhaps Kashmiri lineage, but the features are definitely Tibetan-mongoloid. He is quite at home conversing in Urdu, but the accent again is more eastern. We take a short detour at Ganderbal since the road is blocked by a hartaal and make our first stop at Kangan - my first opportunity to bite into local cuisine. It’s simple – a sort of pattice without any filling which is a Kashmiri Kulcha (Thanks +Tiksha Kaul  for this clarification) and some noon chai  (salt tea) – a pink coloured tea that is prepared with pistas and cardamom.

Breakfast at Kangan - Kashmiri Kulcha with Noon chai (right).
Regular tea on the left

The drive to towards Kargil continues. It’s now October and autumn has arrived in the Kashmir valley. The greens of the valley are gradually being replaced by the yellows and oranges of the season and the air has a whiff of winter. At Sonamarg, we pass the opportunity to see the Thajiwas glacier. It is a few kms from Sonamarg, and we want to get to Kargil before sunset. Besides, it’s very accessible and a little too touristy for our liking. A few frames of horses grazing in the meadows will do for now.

Horses in the meadows of Sonamarg

Before we get to Drass and Kargil, we must cross the Zoji La (3,528m). The skies have been overcast since Srinagar and we are expecting a rough time. Half way up to the pass and we are hit by sheets of snow. The experience is enthralling and intimidating at the same time – our vision is reduced to a few meters – we can just see the truck ahead. A quick glance down and I can barely see the edge of the road; leave aside the bottom of the valley. But MA is seasoned and navigates the Scorpio well through the frost and snow and past Zojila. The autumn colours continue on the other side of the pass, but are sparse – Ladakh beckons!

Crossing the Zojila

The War memorial – Drass & Kargil

The Kargil war fought between India and Pakistan in the summer of 1999. In the preceding winter, Pakistani troops and mercenaries took positions on the Indian side of the Line of Control as the Indian army abandoned the positions due to the harsh winter (a normal practice at this time). The incursions set off a military confrontation between the Pakistani backed forces and the Indian Army. Fighting ceased on the 26^th of July – India managed to push back the insurgents. (http://www.newworldencyclopedia.org/entry/Kargil_War)

Some would describe the state of Jammu & Kashmir as a ‘paradise’, but it is also a region torn apart by conflict with some western parts controlled by Pakistan and some eastern ones by China. It’s a region where ‘glacier’ is almost synonymous with the one of the highest battlegrounds in the world – Siachen.

Tin domed mosque at Drass

Drass has seen its fair share of war, but I don’t see the scars – no poverty, mistrust of foreigners etc. Life it seems is back to normal in the coldest place in India. But, I do see plenty of memorials in and around the town dedicated to the Indian soldiers who gave their lives for their country. We reach Drass in time for lunch. The locals are said to be of Dard ethnicity and Sunni Muslim ⁽¹⁾, but I am not good enough to validate the first. The bazaar still looks a lot like the ones we crossed on the way – a line of restaurants with long bearded men hanging around – they either wear sweaters, coats or a local ‘pheran’. All the restaurants claim to serve wazwan, but once you get in, it’s just the good ol’ chicken biryani that is available – perhaps it’s because this is the off-season. But there are three things that did catch my eye – the amazing view of Tiger Hill from the bazaar, the tin domed mosque - Tin or asbestos is often used for the top of the mosque in these parts but it’s the first I have come across – and that the houses have started to flatten down into single storey cubical structures with flat roofs.

Local in Drass in a 'pheran'

The wide fields of Drass start to compress once again into the mountainous rocky road at Bimbat. At Channigund, near an Army post, a board reminds us of our proximity to the Line of control – it reads “Caution. You are being watched.” The LOC is across the river and we are truly being observed. Regardless of the signs, the memorials and bunkers on the way to Kargil are enough to let you know how close you are to the enemy. I come from a city that has seen plenty of terrorist activity, but I have never been this close to the devil himself!

Autumn in the valley (our Scorpio on the right)

Kargil is a pleasant surprise - it’s not just a big town, but a thriving one. On the banks of the Suru river and amidst an arid landscape, it boasts of most of the amenities of a modern town – ATMs, good hotels, transport options, decent internet connectivity, an active market etc. After checking into Hotel Siachen, we stroll about in the main market. Again, my tongue needs a taste of the local food – I spot a few street vendors selling a small sausage like preparation. The locals tell me that they are goat intestines. They are fried and served with a spicy red sauce and chopped onions and for Rs. 2 apiece, they are a MUST try. However, they are rather heavy and spongy (as compared to a chicken sausage), and I am struggling to get past half a dozen.

Suru Valley – the metamorphosis

More autumn frames....

It’s an early start the next morning from Kargil. Many travelers start even earlier to capture the sunrise over the Nun & Kun peaks, but we prefer to watch the valley unfold before us in the day – and we are well rewarded. Kargil was a melting pot of ethnicities, religions and cultures – sure, it was a big town. But here in the valley, it’s a slow change, of terrain, of vegetation and of religion. Speeding out of Kargil, we pass her suburbs and get to Trespone to see the grand Imambara. It is still early morning and the Imambara is closed, but a place beyond her walls is good enough for admiration. It’s then on to Sankoo for breakfast, followed by Panikhar.  Autumn continues to sprinkle her colours by the way, albeit in smaller portions, but the land is distinctly Muslim. The tin domed Mosques are now in greater numbers.

Parkachik Glacier

Bearded men with Taqiyahs and women with scarves loiter around by the fields that turn a lush green in the summers – watered of course by the Suru River. Flat mud houses lay squat in clusters surrounded by fields and short trees with black billed magpies darting and tweeting all around. Now and then, you will get glimpses of Nun peak, the highest in the state, that’s ofcourse if you know which peak is Mt. Nun. Unfortunately, even the locals seemed baffled when you ask them about it and keep pointing in different directions.

Parkachik marks a change of terrain, vegetation and people. It is the transition point of Suru valley. Chortens indicate a switchover to Buddhist settlements around. The mud houses continue in spurts but the valley empties out – a vast expanse of lifeless land, with just the river for company. Parkachik is also where we see our first glacier –the Parkachik Glacier– a rather small mass of frost clinging to the mountain side. It is close enough for you to cross over and get up close. A little further ahead, we catch our first glimpse of the Rangdum monastery – a red structure atop a small hill with mountains standing guard.

Kids in the family that hosted us

The expanse beyond Parkachik - Rangdum monastery in the distance

We halt at Rangdum and take a room with a family. MA talks to the family in another language now, one that sounds similar to Tibetan – the language has also changed apparently. But there is bad news on the horizon. Beyond the monastery, we see clouds sweeping into the valley. The bad weather seems to like playing hide and seek with us. Within minutes, Rangdum is covered in snow. The family tells us that it’s the first of the season – we seem to be lucky yet unlucky! The snowfall continues for the next 3-4 hours. After an initial frolic in the snow, we get back to our room to contemplate our fortunes. If the snow continues, Pensi la and Darang Durung glacier will be inaccessible! Sleep it seems can counter our disappointment and we hit the sack earlier than normal.

Making Noon chai at the homestay

Yaks return to the village after the first snowfall

Our homestay 

Rangdum monastery

Winter wonderland

The senior monk

Prayer hall in Rangdum monastery

The next morning brings blue skies and the hope that we can get to Pensi la. First up, we make a pit stop at the Rangdum monastery. The monastery, a good 5 kms from the town, is perched on a hill with the river weaving past its sides.  It’s the beauty of isolation – Shangri-La you say? Well, a strong contender I’m sure. The monastery looks deserted, but a monk soon comes out to show us around. He even invites us in for tea and snacks with the other monks. One of them is noticeably senior – partly because, well, he looks old and perhaps partly because his head gear resembles that of a Catholic Cardinal! It's a traditional hat in Ladakh and you can find many monks wearing it. He asks us why we would venture out here to Rangdum at this time of the year. “It’s so cold!” he says. We tell him that we are on our way to see the Glacier. “It will be still colder there!”, he retorts. The climb to Pensi La continues. It’s October, but it feels like spring – the Sun is out and the frost on the ground is thawing. We ascend past the 4,000m mark to discover a series of glaciers – each defrosting into a tributary of the Suru. The Scorpio slips and slides on the ice as MA negotiates the bends and the frost and then finally we are there – a little after Pensi La, the demarcation of the Suru and Zanskar valleys, laid the Darang-Durung glacier. It’s white all around – the terrain around us, the mountains opposite us and of course the glacier. You need to see the crevasses on the surface to outline the glacier and once you have that figured out; it really is a sight to behold. It is as Kenny Rogers and Dolly Parton would describe it – ‘a winter wonderland’ and I have got my Christmas gift 2 months early!

Rangdum Village (taken on the way back from PensiLa) with Mt. Kun in the background

Darang Durung Glacier

It’s funny this little journey of ours, we set out to discover glaciers and at each juncture were pushed back by snow and ice itself. Come to think of it, they weren’t impediments; they just completed the chase for Ice!

POINTERS

• Kargil has a strong taxi union, if you hire a taxi from Srinagar/Leh, you might have trouble taking it into Suru. (We had to rehire MA at Kargil!)
• Rangdum is an excellent site for star trails – make sure you have enough batteries
• Home stays are common in Ladakh and are extremely comfortable

References

1. ‘Ladakh’- Partha S banerjee

Malana - untouchable for a day

I learnt about Malana over the internet. There was something intriguing about her profile – her political roots, her air of superiority and the more recent flirtations with the psychedelic world. Her character it would seem has been sculpted out of the seclusion of the mountains – her minimal contact with the outside world left her to find her own solutions - rules to establish order, a creed to fill the loopholes and a language to communicate the same. The result is proof that perhaps too many philosophers and economists can overcook the broth. Her allegiance to a system which the majority of the free world believes to be the most optimal, has made her the subject of study of many a sociologist and historian. But then she was discovered.  And as contact with the outside world grew, in came the vices of modernity endangering her ways and thus herself.

Village of Malana

My tryst with Malana was long overdue – I always felt like I was fighting against time. Every month spent without seeing her meant she moved a bit closer to the current year and to extinction.  A change in job and location forced me to reset my priorities on the travel front and in the middle of October 2011, I find myself huffing and puffing up the slopes towards her. The path isn’t too steep, but prosperity has had its way in the past year, albeit in only a physical manifestation. My guide, who I hired from Jari, is amused. The panting and frequent stops bring a smirk to his face, a proud and pompous expression that lets you know that you, the urban creature, in your pursuit of your intellectual progress have depreciated the dexterity inborn in your limbs! He keeps pointing to the tele tower up above and tells me that we only need to climb till that point. I look at the tower and get the sinking feeling that Malana might have already passed me by. Meanwhile, I begin to notice the cannabis on the slopes around. “This is the season of Charas”, the guide tells me, “and the police are in and out of Malana frequently.”

Central courtyard

I finally cross the metal tower and move into the boundaries of Malana. There really must be a crackdown on the hash trade – I read travelogues describing locals trying to sell you Charas or cream the minute you set foot in the village – none of this happens. Perhaps, they think I’m too cheap! (Hash sells for Rs. 80,000/kg according to my guide)

Malana architecture resembles the Kinnauri style

The first vision of the village hits me as one in transition – housing is a mix of a more traditional wood and slate and a newer stone/brick and tin/asbestos. There was a fire here in 2008 and many families switched to stone and asbestos after that. The rubble scattered across the village suggests that the work might still be on, or the neighbourhood doesn’t care! I sight a local school, a shop with well known brands and even a non-veg restaurant! Clearly the traditional shackles have been broken. But progress aside, I am still an untouchable! Locals here believe that they belong to a superior race – they or their houses cannot be touched by outsiders. I take the path that goes through the village, designed so that you don’t have to go near their homes. My guide keeps warning me each time I go even a bit off the path trying to get the right photograph.

The Oldest democracy in the world!

Malanis are believed to be descendants of the soldiers of Alexander the great, who took refuge here after their defeat. For centuries they have upheld a democratic structure consisting of a lower house and an upper house. Many historians believe this to be the oldest democracy in the world.

http://www.archidude.com/malana-village-kullu-the-oldest-parliament-of-the-world/

http://www.aheadofdemocracy.com/story-of-malana.html

http://fractalenlightenment.com/883/culture/malana-an-isolated-abode-in-the-himalayas

Malani local

But for a superior race, they aren’t exactly the most tidy. The central courtyard that houses the temples and the parliament house is strewn with plastic bags and all sorts of other garbage. Add to that the rubble I mentioned earlier and you have quite a mess. I notice a few kids playing and try to offer them some chocolates.  Again my guide intervenes and asks me to hand them over to him. He in turn gives the chocolates to the kids – apparently he is pure for some genetic, spiritual or commercial reason. He then goes on to tell me that if I were to lay my hands on them or their houses, I would have to pay a Rs. 1000 fine. I have one mind to go ahead and do it, purely out of curiosity. But then I pull back when he tells me the money is to buy a hen which would be sacrificed to purify the place! All said and done, the chocolates have warmed up the kids. They are happy to pose for a few photographs and continue to shout for some more chocolate, even if they do it from ten feet away!

Kids will be kids!

The last piece in the puzzle is the language of Malana – one which had the overtones of the northern languages, but was certainly not familiar. My guide tells me that years ago, a Rishi (sage) had ordered a local demon to leave Malana. The demon said that he would do so on the condition that he be remembered in some way. The Rishi agreed and his language was given to the locals of Malana.

The image of the local deity - the Jamdagni rishi with the Rs. 1000 fine notice

Dusk is approaching now, and we are eager to get back to Jari -the route to Malana is infamous for muggings.  It’s a mixture of disappointment and satisfaction as I leave the village. Disappointment at the dispirited effort by the community to keep their identity alive and satisfied that I have witnessed and experienced Malana before she is extinct!

On my way down, I bump into a group of foreigners. “How is Malana?”, asked the Norwegian in the group. I reply that she had modernized and was not like earlier visitors had described in their travelogues. The response evokes puzzled looks from the entire group. They look at each other for answers , baffled as if they suddenly realize they took a wrong turn somewhere on the way up. The lady tries again, now slightly embarrassed, “Are they cultivating?” 

It’s a slow death for Malana. I can only hope this travelogue along with the others online, are a fitting testimony of her.

POINTERS

1.     The closest village to Malana is Jari. The Om Shiva guest house is the best here – if it is closed, call the number posted on the front and the caretaker will come there in 10-15 mins
2.     You can also stay at Kasol & Manikaran – there are supposed to have better hotels/guest houses. Malana also has a guest house or two – you can stay there or camp ahead esp. if you trekking to Naggar over the Chanderkhani pass.
3.    You can get to within 2 kms of Malana by road. After that it’s a climb up to the top.