Category Archives: Travel

Kashmir by Gordon Duff

Published / by Jehangir

In younger days I spent many a late summer wandering the lofty wildernesses that ring the Kashmir Valley on all sides. The outbreak of militancy at the end of the eighties put paid to those adventures, never to be resumed again.

During those glorious years my mother would ask me why I wanted to be ‘paharon mein darbadar‘ on my birthdays (Mid-August). I wish I knew about Gordon Duff then so I could explain my desire in his words:

here among the great mountains
nothing but the grandeur of the world remains.
heaven may not be ‘up there’ but there is no doubt
that here one is in touch with the infinite.
one has only to reach out to touch the great beyond.
the smallness of men’s minds is forgotten, the shallowness of
their ways, the pettiness of so much that surrounds them.
there is nothing tawdry in the world of the high peaks.

dekhna taqreer ki lazzat ki jo us ne kaha,
main ne ye jaana ki goya ye bhi mere dil mein hai

Well better late than never.

Gordon Duff (1921-2001) was born in 1921 in Glasgow, Scotland. During the Second World War from 1943-1945 he served with the 31 RAF Squadron in India. In the post war years he returned to Glasgow, got married and immigrated to New Zealand in 1953.

Gordon Duff kept detailed diaries and took many photos of his time overseas (India, Burma, Indonesia and Singapore) which were hidden till he passed away – probably because people wanted to forget the war when they got home.

His daughter Marjory Lewis has generously shared his unseen photographs of Kashmir as it was in 1944, some of which are posted here for your viewing pleasure:

Let us raise a toast to the photography of Gordon Duff and the generosity of Marjory Lewis.
Noon chai is the strongest spirit that I imbibe, so here goes.

Three cheers for Gordon Duff.

The True Source of the Jehlum

Published / by Jehangir

Empires of the Indus by Alice Albinia (which I somehow managed to recommend and put-down in the same post) also helped to clear up a quandary regarding the origin of the Jehlum.

Most historical and modern traditions consider the Verinag pool as the source of the Jehlum (except for a handful of purists who maintain that the honour belongs to the nearby Vyethvathur spring).

The outflow from Verinag forms a small stream that flows for around three kilometres before merging with the more sizeable Sandrin stream near Chinigund. Near Khanabal the Sandrin stream meets the confluent flow of the Bringi and Arpath streams before merging with the Lidder near Sifan to give rise to the Jehlum river.

The headwaters of the Sandrin, however, lie many miles further away from the sangam (confluence) of the Verinag and Sandrin streams. Numerous nars (mountain streams), arising from the snowfields of the mountainous ring between the Hansraj, Kaukut and Sundar Kanthi peaks, merge to form the Sandrin stream which flows in a north-westerly direction for more than 20 kilometres till it meets the Verinag stream.

So why is the Sandrin, or rather its first and farthest tributary, the Chhitar Nar, not traditionally considered to be the source of the Jehlum?

Alice Albinia faced a similar conundrum on reaching Senge Khabab (The Lion’s Mouth – the traditional source of the Indus) at the end of her quest, and wondered why the Dorjungla or other tributaries arising farther away were not considered to be the source of the Indus.

The explanation comes via Sven Hedin – the Swedish adventurer-explorer who explored the Transhimalaya and discovered the source of the Indus. Alice Albinia relates that Sven Hedin was told by his Tibetan guides that the Senge Khabab, arising from underground springs, was considered the true source as it emitted the same amount of water in summer and winter (unlike the other snowmelt-dependent tributaries that waxed and waned from season to season).

This fits in well with our own tradition that the reliable Verinag spring is considered to be the actual source of the Jehlum and not the snowmelt-dependent mountain streams rising farther away in the hills. I am inclined to agree.

Rivers of Confusion

Published / by Jehangir

The best travelogues narrate the experiences of a stranger travelling to a faraway land, detailing snapshots of the local wonders, and recording the culture of the people encountered along the way. ‘The journey is the destination‘ is the traveller’s credo that elevates him/her above the mere tourist.

Faiz thi raah sarbasar manzil, hum jahaan pahunche kamyaab aaye

In an earlier post, I neglected to mention that Zaffar Ahmed Khan was an accomplished poet with published collections in Urdu. Our quest, however, was to gather English travelogues related to Kashmir to collect material for a comparative anthology of travel writing by visitors to the valley.

While that manuscript is, alas, lost to us forever, my interest remains undiminished and I have scoured the gamut of travel writing from good to bad, touristy to cringe-worthy. This post is about a travelogue that records a journey so fascinating that for the longest time I could not decide whether the author’s experiences were based on fact or fiction.

The book is Empires of the Indus by Alice Albinia. Adventure (to the point of foolhardiness), history, and culture meld into a scarcely-believable travel diary. It is the preface to the newer edition where Ms Albinia explains how she was able to negotiate her impossible itinerary that finally convinced me that her experiences were authentic.

As per the author’s website, Empires of the Indus has won the Somerset Maugham Award, the Royal Society of Literature Jerwood Prize, the Dolman Travel Prize, La Toison d’Or du livre d’aventure vécue, a Sufi Shah Inayat Writer Award and the Premio Hemingway Reportage award.

For western readers Empires of the Indus is a much-acclaimed anthropological narrative by a first-time author traipsing along the Indus from its delta at Karachi to its headwaters in Tibet, time-travelling through historical eras while physically crisscrossing borders between Pakistan, Afghanistan, India and China.

We, being native to these lands, can sense that (besides the barely-supressed islamophobia that runs like the eponymous river throughout the book) the author inadvertently reveals whiffs of other outdated -isms like colonialism, (western?) feminism, and just-fake-it-ism. Other reviewers have pointed out the inaccuracies related to their own areas of expertise but let me reveal two glaring examples of Ms Albinia transmogrifying geography to suit her chosen narrative.

Firstly though, a little geography recap. The Punjab is named after five rivers – Sutlej, Beas, Ravi, Chenab and Jehlum (east to west) – that ultimately flow into the Indus. Empires of the Indus itself contains an excellent map of the Indus Valley for ready reference. We will have to make do with this simple one:

Alice Albinia claims that the people of Harrapa traded beads, pots, pins, bangles and arrowheads with the neolithic community at Burzahom (Burzhama) in Kashmir in exchange for himalayan cedar floated downstream to Harappa through a trading post established at Manda (Akhnoor) in Jammu. Unfortunately Burzahom, Manda and Harappa just happen to be situated on three different rivers – Jehlum, Chenab and Ravi respectively! Ms Albinia apparently forgot to consult her own map 😉

At the culmination of her journey, the author declares in a definitive paragraph that from the watershed of the sacred mountain of Kailash, four great rivers of South Asia (Indus, Sutlej, Karnali, and Brahmaputra) arise and four faiths (Bon, Buddhism, Jainism and Hinduism) congregate in pilgrimage. It is an impressive statement but sadly innaccurate as the Sutlej is described as flowing north-west through Kashmir. If we refer to our map again, the Sutlej is the easternmost of the five rivers of the Punjab – far, far away from Kashmir – while the one that flows (hundreds of miles away) through the valley is the Jehlum, situated furthest to the west!

Overall though, notwithstanding all its inaccuracies and biases, Empires of the Indus is a fascinating account of a daredevil journey through our part of the world.

P.S: Alice Albinia tragicomically criticising L. K. Advani for ‘his poor sense of geography’ made me smile.