132
CLIVE ROBINSON
House-boats are usually moored by the lakeside and it is possible to walk ashore into the fields across a plank. But one's chief means of transport is the shikhara which arrives each morning and remains until one has finished with it at night. A shikhara is the Rolls-Royce of gondolas full of soft cushions and gaily patterned pillows — and its crew of two young and cheerful Kashmiri is at your disposal all day to paddle swiftly and silently through the lotus-covered waterways to wherever you choose to go. On long expeditions, such as to Ganderbal three hours away, a crew of four is necessary especially if the day is hot.
Each morning the tradesmen arrive by water: the postman, butcher, chemist, grocer and the florist. The latter, a picture with his boat covered from stem to stern in all the brilliant colours of the Valley's flowers. Hard for the ladies to resist! Later come the famous Srinagar dealers, also by boat. "Mr. Butterfly" with his exotically embroidered men's pyjamas and his exquisite sets of ladies' underwear; "Suffering Moses", renowned for his papier mâché ware; and, perhaps hardest of all to refuse, "Subhana the Worst". It was in Subhana's shop, after a large Persian lunch, that I once spent more money in one afternoon than (I trust) I am ever likely to do again.
Nagin, where we moored in "Golden Gleam", has a large house-boat, in the centre of the lake, from which one bathes or water-skis. And out of the lake the narrow water channels lead past floating gardens, orchards and meadows to Nishat Bagh and Jehangir's famous Gardens of Shalimar where we picnicked one afternoon sitting on Persian rugs and drinking tea out of a lovely samovar.
But it is wise to remember that the lotus-existence of life on a house-boat in Kashmir is an insidious one and each day it is harder to break the spell. The visitor is wise who says at the beginning how long it is to last and, if he is fond of mountains and the country, plans his expedition at an early date.
The local bus, complete with Kashmiris and their retinues of hens and pigs, took us to Pahalgam at the foot of the high mountains and there we found our camp already pitched.
It was by a stream at the end of the Liddar valley and within a stone's throw of the Prime Minister's summer lodge. Eight ponies were
I
132
CLIVE ROBINSON
House-boats are usually moored by the lakeside and it is possible to walk ashore into the fields across a plank. But one's chief means of transport is the shikhara which arrives each morning and remains until one has finished with it at night. A shikhara is the Rolls-Royce of gondolas full of soft cushions and gaily patterned pillows — and its crew of two young and cheerful Kashmiri is at your disposal all day to paddle swiftly and silently through the lotus-covered waterways to wherever you choose to go. On long expeditions, such as to Ganderbal three hours away, a crew of four is necessary especially if the day is hot.
Each morning the tradesmen arrive by water: the postman, butcher, chemist, grocer and the florist. The latter, a picture with his boat covered from stem to stern in all the brilliant colours of the Valley's flowers. Hard for the ladies to resist! Later come the famous Srinagar dealers, also by boat. "Mr. Butterfly" with his exotically embroidered men's pyjamas and his exquisite sets of ladies' underwear; "Suffering Moses", renowned for his papier mâché ware; and, perhaps hardest of all to refuse, "Subhana the Worst". It was in Subhana's shop, after a large Persian lunch, that I once spent more money in one afternoon than (I trust) I am ever likely to do again.
Nagin, where we moored in "Golden Gleam", has a large house-boat, in the centre of the lake, from which one bathes or water-skis. And out of the lake the narrow water channels lead past floating gardens, orchards and meadows to Nishat Bagh and Jehangir's famous Gardens of Shalimar where we picnicked one afternoon sitting on Persian rugs and drinking tea out of a lovely
samovar.
But it is wise to remember that the lotus-existence of life on a house-boat in Kashmir is an insidious one and each day it is harder to break the spell. The visitor is wise who says at the beginning how long it is to last and, if he is fond of mountains and the country, plans his expedition at an early date.
The local bus, complete with Kashmiris and their retinues of hens and pigs, took us to Pahalgam at the foot of the high mountains and there we found our camp already pitched.
It was by a stream at the end of the Liddar valley and within a stone's throw of the Prime Minister's summer lodge. Eight ponies were
I
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