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THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
BEYOND
THE PIR PANJAL
LIFE AND MISSIONARY ENTERPRISE
IN KASHMIR
BY
ERNEST F. NEVE, M.D., F.R.C.S. (EDIN.)
CHURCH MISSIONARY SOCIETY
SALISBURY SQUARE, LONDON, E.C.
1915
First Edition 1912
Pojmlar Edition 1914
,. >, 2nd Impression . . 1915
[All Rights Reserved}
DS
nn
THE writer has enjoyed the privilege of living and
working in Kashmir for more than a quarter of a
century.
During this period, the country has undergone great
changes. The most rapid progress was doubtless made
in the decade preceeding the year 1900. Politically,
Kashmir is very backward, but a great work of prepara-
tion is going on. In, spite of religious intolerance and
social and official opposition, the Spirit of Christ is
moving in the land, and the future holds in store spiritual
blessings to which hitherto Kashmir, with its unhappy
history of tyranny and religious persecution, has been
a stranger.
In the chapters on the Mission Hospital, the School
and District Work, I have endeavoured to show that
the efforts of the Church Missionary Society have been
fruitful, although the sphere is one of great difficulty.
Much important educational work has been done. The
moral and physical condition of the people has been
greatly improved. In this work, the Mission has had
a large share. The medical branch, in addition to its
wide-spread ministry of healing, has been especially
effective in delivering the great message of Christianity.
I have tried also to show the happy and useful life's
work and the great opportunities for service which are
possible to Christian medical men in the East.
iii
1 C45506
iv PREFACE
If what I have written should inspire any qualified
men or women, doctors or nurses, to take up such work
as their career, the time spent in writing these pages
will have been indeed worth while.
In the description of the manifold activities of the
Mission School, I have in places quoted freely from the
racy annual reports of that great Scout-master, the Rev.
Cecil Tyndale-Biscoe.
Most of the illustrations are from my own photo-
graphs. Those which are not I have acknowledged,
and am grateful for permission to use them.
I will only add that I am fully aware of the literary
and other shortcomings of the following pages.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I
PAGE
THE VALE OF KASHMIR . . . . i
Spring Beauties The Pir Panjal Range Konsa Nag Gul-
marg The Ascent of Mount Tatticooti The Basin of the
Jhelum River Its Source Vernag Achibal Bawan
Picturesque Islamabad A Medical Mission Ancient Temple
of Martand.
CHAPTER II
HISTORICAL EPOCHS . . . . .18
Early Hindu Buddhist Hindu Kings Tribal Wars Tartar
Invasion Mohammedan Rule Kaskmir Sultans The Moghuls
Akhbar Jehangir Afghan Tyranny Sikh Invasion Ceded
to British Transferred to Dogra Dynasty.
CHAPTER III
THE PEOPLE . . . . . -25
Character Food Women Religion Shrine Worship
Hindus Clans Language Proverbs A Dialogue.
CHAPTER IV
SRINAGAR . . . . . . 41
Population Bridges Palace H.H. The Maharajah Adminis-
tration Merchants Silk Factory On the River Shah-i-
Hamadan Mosque Sikhs Hindus Street Life.
CHAPTER V
THE KASHMIR MISSION SCHOOL . . . -52
In All Things be Men An Original Method of Marking
Practical Philanthropy The Goddess Kali and the Hooligans
A Crocodile Scare Head of the River An Unwilling
Passenger Visitation of Cholera Knights Errant Education
in India Its Needs and Defects.
CHAPTER VI
THE KASHMIR MEDICAL MISSION . . . .68
Early Days Robert Clark A Threatening Mob The First
Convert Dr Elmslie Opposition Development and Progress
Famine Relief The Great Earthquake Fighting Cholera
Smallpox and Plague.
V
vi CONTENTS
CHAPTER VII
PAGE
THE MISSION HOSPITAL . . . -85
New Buildings A Beautiful Prospect A Crowd of Sick People
Reclaimed Items of Expenditure A Provident System A
Walk round the Wards Mohammedans and Hindus Types
of Patients A Little Sufferer St Luke's Chapel The Relief
of Lepers.
CHAPTER VIII
VILLAGE LIFE . . . . . .105
Forced Labour Land Settlement Rice Cultivation Seri-
culture Village Occupations Field Work Horticulture
Apiculture Autumn and Winter Some Common Birds.
CHAPTER IX
MEDICAL MISSION CAMP WORK . . . .120
On the March Methods of Work Worship of Sacred Places
The Pirs the Great Flood Relief Work.
CHAPTER X
A GLIMPSE OF KASHMIRI TIBET . . . .130
The Sind Valley A Delayed Post The Zoji Pass Dras and
the Dards Kargyl The Battle of Pashkyum Valley Moulbe
Sculpture Lamoy6ro Monastery A Weird Orchestra Chun-
rezig The BonChos Assassination of Langdarma A Ladakhi
Village.
CHAPTER XI
THE UPPER INDUS VALLEY . . . 145
Khalatze Fort and Bridge An Ancient Inscription Ruined
Castles The Moravian Mission Tsongkapa, the Reformer
Rirdzong Monastery Potted Lamas Alchi Monastery
Bazgoo The Mongol War Leh, a Town in the Desert
Dogra Conquest Moravian Mission Work Buddhist Chortens
and Rock-carving The Hemis Demon Dance Evangelization
of Tibet.
CHAPTER XII
SPHERE OF INFLUENCE OF MEDICAL MISSION WORK . 163
Racial Antagonism Points of Contact Opportunities for
Service Economic Value of Medical Relief Should Missionary
Work be Supported ? Aims and Attainments.
CHAPTER XIII
DEVELOPMENT OF KASHMIR . . . . 174
Material Improvements Influence of Medical Mission Future
of Kashmir Probable Victory of Christian Faith and Ethics.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PLATE
1. CROSSING THE INDUS ON A RAFT OF INFLATED SHEEP-
SKINS . ... Frontispiece
PACING PAGE
2. KONSA NAG ...... 4
3. MOUNT TATTICOOTI FROM THE SOUTH . . 6
4. THE GREAT SAUSSUREA . . 10
5. A STREET IN ISLAMABAD . . . -14
6. KASHMIRI VILLAGERS AND CHILDREN . . .26
7. A KASHMIRI PEASANT . . . . .29
8. A KASHMIRI GIRL . . . . .29
9. FAIR AT HAZRAT BAL ZIARUT . . 31
10. THE MAR CANAL . . . . -41
n. H.H. THE MAHARAJAH OF JAMMU AND KASHMIR . 42
12. BRIDGE OVER THE MAR NALLA . . 44
13. ON THE RIVER, SRINAGAR . . . .46
14. SRINAGAR CITY. SHAH-I-HAMADAN MOSQUE . . 48
15. SCHOOL SPORTS. A SPLASH DASH . . -56
1 6. FLEET PADDLING PAST THE HIGH SCHOOL . -59
17. THE KASHMIR MISSION HOSPITAL . . -74
1 8. CENTRAL TOWER, MISSION HOSPITAL . . -85
19. TYPES OF PATIENTS . . . . -87
20. UPPER VERANDAH, DOWNES' WARD . . -91
21. LITTLE SCHOLARS AT THE LEPER HOSPITAL . .102
vii
viii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PLATE FACING PAGE
22. A TYPICAL KASHMIRI COTTAGE . .107
23. THE Zoji LA PASS . . . . . 133
24. COLOSSAL BUDDHA AT MOULBE . . .138
25. LAMOYORO MONASTERY . . . 139
26. IMAGE OF CHUNREZIG AT LAMOYORO . . . 140
27. THE ORCHESTRA, LAMOYORO .... 143
28. ROCK PICTURE AND INSCRIPTION OF KHALATZE . 145
29. ALCHI TEMPLE . . . . . 149
30. VlEW FROM THE PALACE, LEH . . 151
31. LEH, A TOWN IN THE DESERT . . . 152
32. THE LAMA DEVIL DANCE AT HEMIS . . .156
33. INTERIOR OF CHAPEL IN BUDDHIST MONASTERY . 161
BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
CHAPTER I
THE VALE OF KASHMIR
Spring Beauties The Pir Panjal Range Konsa Na"g Gulmarg
The Ascent of Mount Tatticooti The Basin of the Jhelum River Its
Source Vernag Achibal Bdwan Picturesque Islamabad A
Medical Mission Ancient Temple of Martand.
A \ale of purple glens and snow-cold streams,
Broad meadows lush with verdure, flower and fruit,
The broad-leafed maple towering in his pride,
The temple's noble ruin on the height ;
The poplar lines that mark the homestead there,
Calm lakes that bear the lotus on their breast.
C. R. TOLLEMACHE.
KASHMIR owes much of its fame to its varied phases of beauty.
These are partly due to the seasons. But the different alti-
tudes, with their countless slopes and upland meadows,
some with northern and others with southern aspect, con-
tinually provide a simultaneous presentation of the beauties
of successive seasons. In the hottest summer weather, for
instance, when in the valley the temperature is over 90 F. in
the shade, when the air is laden with moisture and mos-
quitoes abound, a ride or drive of 30 miles and a climb of
3000 feet will take us to where the atmosphere is fresh and
cool. Another two or three thousand feet of ascent will
bring us to snow and to early spring flowers such as primulas
and anemones. And looking down from the heights to the
plain below, with its masses of foliage dimly discernible in
the midst of the heat haze, we appreciate the effect of alti-
tude on climate.
A I
2 BEYOND THE P1R PANJAL
In the valley, in early spring, sheets of white and pale
pink almond blossom on the hillsides dip down into broad
stretches of brilliant yellow mustard. The landscape is full
of colour. The tender green of young wheat contrasts with
the rich madder brown of newly-ploughed fields. Innumer-
able willows with orange-coloured branches and pale yellow-
green feathery foliage are massed together in the hollows or
form lines across the landscape. In the distance is the deep
blue of the foot-hills, with above them the pure white surface
and serrated crest of lofty mountains still mantled in winter
snow, upon which there is perpetual play of sunshine chasing
shadow.
The almond blossom has hardly passed its climax of
beauty and sprinkled the turf below with its petals before
the snowy white of the flowering apricot trees in gardens and
orchards becomes conspicuous; and then the peach trees
put forth their exquisite pink blossom, which, with the sun
shining through, stands out brilliantly against the azure sky.
Flocks of birds, which during the winter had sought warmer
climes, now return to Kashmir. Others, which have silently
borne the winter snow and frost, find their voices and at
dawn the song of thrushes and blackbirds mingles with the
rich tones of the golden oriole and the air vibrates with the
melody of the countless feathered inhabitants of every large
tree.
Springing grass has now clothed the earth-covered roofs
of the houses, on some of which till recently there were masses
of orange-red crown imperial lilies, while here and there
flashes the gorgeous scarlet of clusters of large Moghul tulips.
In the midst of the soft velvety turf are clumps of white and
purple iris, the scent of which mingles with that of the May
bushes, which are in full blossom. The beauty of this
season appeals to every sense.
The Vale of Kashmir may be described as an oval basin
80 miles long and 20 broad, extending from south-east to
north-west. It is girt by mighty mountain ranges, many of
THE VALE OF KASHMIR 3
the peaks of which are higher than Mont Blanc. These are
the pearls which encircle the emerald valley.
Although the mountain wall appears continuous and un-
broken, the contour of the oval is irregular and interrupted
by projecting ridges and receding valleys. The most im-
portant of these usher down the tributaries of the Jhelum,
of which on the right bank the chief are the Lidar, Sind and
Pohru rivers, and on the left or south-west bank the Veshau
and Dudhganga. At the point where these debouch into
the valley there are extensive fan-shaped expanses, miles
across and terraced with rice-fields.
The Jhelum pursues a winding course, not down the
centre of the valley, but near the north-east side. The right
bank, owing to its sloping southern aspect, is drier and
wanner, and the crops ripen earlier than those of the left
bank and south side. One striking physical peculiarity of
Kashmir is the fact that the southern slopes of the ranges,
where the snow melts quickly, are treeless and bare. They
are covered with long grass, which, as the summer advances,
becomes very dry. Accidental fires sometimes cause great
destruction and sweep over large areas, still further accentu-
ating and perpetuating the bareness. Slopes with a northern
aspect, where the snow lingers longer, are on the other hand
green and forest-clad, and the afforestation naturally pro-
motes still further the retention of moisture and frequency
of rainfall. This is also the case in those of the outlying
valleys which run east and west.
On either side of the Jhelum throughout its length there
is an extended area of flat alluvial plain, from one to five
miles in width. And from the foot of the great boundary
ranges, the high ground gradually shelves down to join this
plain. So that although the river banks and the plain
around are only a little over 5000 feet above sea-level, a very
large part of the valley of Kashmir has an altitude of over
6000 feet. The Pir Panjal range is a serrated edge of rocky
arete-joined peaks and snow-clad slopes. It forms the highest
4 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
line of the great mountain barrier which divides Kashmir
from the plains of Northern India.
Approaching it from the valley of Kashmir, which lies
to the east, we gradually rise, passing first through broken
plateaus, fissured and eroded by water. Up these inter-
secting valleys the path passes, until at a height of about
6000 feet we begin to see occasional pines. A gradual ascent
for a few more hundred feet brings us to the lower margin of
the great fir forest which clothes the foot of the Pir Panjal
slopes with a band about 80 miles long, and with an average
breadth of perhaps 6 miles. In spite of the extent to which
this forest is overrun by herdsmen, it still remains the haunt
of black bear. Large streams flowing down from the snows
pierce it in many places, and the easiest routes to those
snows are usually to be found along the sides of these torrent
valleys.
Some of the summits are of great beauty, such as the
three Brahma peaks at the south-east end of the range,
whose graceful conical forms, the lower shoulders of which
are mantled with perpetual snow, tower up to a height ol
15,500 feet. Four thousand feet lower down, nestling at
their base, lies the turquoise-blue Konsa Nag, a glacier-fed
lake 3 miles in length (Plate 2). This is the source of the
Veshau River. The ascent to Konsa Nag is made from near
Shupeyon, up a long valley past the fine Haribal Falls. The
final climb is for 1000 feet up a grass-covered moraine. The
lake then comes into view, lying in a hollow on the south
side of the main peaks.
Along the slopes of the great mountain range which
bounds Kashmir to the south there is a continuous series of
" margs," between seven and nine thousand feet above sea-
level. These are stretches of upland flowery meadow
occupying the depressions between the fir-covered slopes
and ridges of the higher foot-hills and the crest of the main
range. The exact mode of formation of these margs is not
quite evident. No doubt originally they were glacier-filled,
THE VALE OF KASHMIR 5
and even now the winter snow lingers on in their trough-like
hollows. But they have rich soil, and it is not clear as to why
they have not become covered by the forest which borders
them, and which in many places has sent out little groups
and lines of firs and pines which stand out boldly in the midst
of the pasturage around. At present the extensive grazing
of herds and flocks, especially of goats, is fatal to the growth
of young trees.
Gulmarg, the favourite summer resort of Europeans,
with its church, hotel and bazaar, its club, polo-ground,
golf links and its numerous wooden huts, is one of many of
these green valleys with undulating slopes. Situated 3000
feet above the valley level, its climate is delightful. To this
and its accessibility it owes its selection and popularity,
for it is only 30 miles by road from Srinagar. Some of the
houses are built on the long fir-clothed ridge which over-
looks the plain. From Gulmarg there is a magnificent view
of the valley of Kashmir and the mountains to the north,
Mahadeo, Kotwal, Haramouk, and hi the distance an out-
standing snowy range culminating in the beautiful peak of
Nanga Parbat, the eighth highest mountain in the world.
Evening after evening these mountains and the nearer
peaks of the Ferozepore valley are bathed in glorious sun-
set colours.
There is a succession of margs all along the Pir Panjal
range. And one of the most beautiful expeditions in Kash-
mir is to march along at the marg level, camping day after
day in exquisitely beautiful spots. All around are stretches
of grassy meadow spangled with flowers, among which
columbines, balsams, anemones, larkspurs and dwarf sun-
flowers are conspicuous.
Above and below is the great forest, through which there
are frequent glimpses of the long glittering white line above
and the far-flung valley below.
During May and early June, before it becomes un-
pleasantly warm, Srinagar is full of European visitors, who
6 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
have flocked in to Kashmir to escape the heat of the Plains
of India. After the middle of June a great exodus occurs to
Gulmarg, the season of which lasts till about the middle of
September. During these three months Gulmarg is a gay
Anglo-Indian hill station.
After the second week of September, with the return of the
British Resident from Gulmarg, Srinagar again becomes the
centre of European interest. During the bright dry autumn
weather, however, many visitors make camping expeditions
or travel about in house-boats.
To the west of the Brahma peaks the Sedau and Pir
Panjal passes cross the range in two well-marked gaps,
separated by a group of five grey rocky summits which
enclose snowfields of considerable extent. Looking along
the sky-line, again 6 miles to the west, is the highest point
of the whole range Sunset Peak, so named because it is the
last of the tops to catch the rays of the setting sun. This
peak has a saddle-back, and has been several times ascended
by Dr Arthur Neve, myself and various friends. The ascent,
which is not difficult, lies for the last three hours up a snow
slope, which gradually increases in steepness and culminates
in a rocky arete, the southern face of which, and of the peak
itself, drops as a sheer precipice for some hundreds of feet.
On the summit pieces of smooth rock with vitreous fracture
can be found, showing bubbles and other traces of igneous
action.
The most conspicuous and imposing of all the peaks of
the Pir Panjal range is undoubtedly Tatticooti (Plate 3),
the pyramidal shape of which, with a central notch and very
steep and jagged western and northern sides, makes it look
as if it might be exceedingly difficult to ascend. In 1900 I
made an attempt, and succeeded in attaining a point about
three-quarters of the way up the final peak, and well above
the apex of the notch. The obstacles were, however, too
many. My camp was far away, and the fatigue great. The
peak became shrouded by cloud, and the porters refused to
3. VIKW OF MOt'NT TA1TKOOTI FROM THK SOI I H.
(The ht-iKht i<f the ptirtion shi>wn is about -',5()i) (Vet.)
THE VALE OF KASHMIR 7
proceed. However, I found, as I believed, a good and
practicable route. On 6th August 1901 the late Rev. C. E.
Barton and I pitched our tents above the pines of the Sang-
sofed River. On yth August we did 5 miles of steady ascent,
at first through birches and juniper bushes, and then over
grassy and flowery meadows, bright with crown gentians and
golden potentillas and dotted with great boulders. Climb-
ing a grass-covered terminal moraine, 250 feet in height, we
placed our base camp on a stretch of meadow under a
rounded knoll, the rocky faces of which were ground
and polished by the ice of ages. Our altitude was then
10,850 feet.
The following day 2 miles ascent, chiefly climbing and
scrambling over moraine, brought us on to the snowfield,
part of the continuous ne*ve, from which the Pir Panjal peaks
in a long line lift their rocky heads. Here our direction
changed from south to west, and emerging from the head
of the valley we finally took a north-westerly course along
the surface of the snowfield, steadily rising until we reached
the upper level, near the southern arete of Tatticooti, the
height attained being 12,850 feet. Here we pitched two
shelter tents on the rocks, one for ourselves, the other for
the porters. The weather was very unsettled and at intervals
there was hail and a driving wind, the peaks being almost
entirely in cloud, but occasionally clearing for a few minutes.
About 10 p.m. a violent storm set in with drifting snow, and
for some time after midnight and in the early morning our
tents were in danger from the violence of the blast. And
we passed a very disturbed night holding on to the tent poles.
On the morning of the gth it cleared by 8 o'clock and the
sun came out, and shone brilliantly upon three inches of
fresh snow. Our tent ropes were coated with ice and the
canvas covered by a layer of frozen snow. The peak was
quite clear, and in spite of the late hour the outlook was
decidedly promising. Crossing the south-eastern arete, we
were compelled to descend 300 feet to a snowfield covering
S BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
the eastern glacier. The steep slope, with loose rocks and
fresh snow, resting in places on ice, caused some delay here,
but by 10.30 we had crossed the snowfield and reached the
foot of a broad couloir stretching 600 feet up to the north-
eastern arete. We started off on snow, but above we had
to scramble up a very steep shale slope. At the top was a
cornice of snow with the 5 feet edge towards us. On the
opposite (northern) side a very sharp snow incline extended
straight away down for two or three thousand feet to a glacier.
From the point where we stood, a broken and steep
rocky arete stretched up for more than 2000 feet towards
the summit, which could not be seen. Following up the
arete for a short distance, we worked across its northern face
amongst loose rocks and fresh snow, traversing some couloirs
full of snow, continuous with the steep slope below. We
rejoined the main arete about 200 feet higher, and a steady
steep climb up the edge brought us at last to a point at
which it became knife-like. By working down a ledge on
its southern side we reached a couloir which, steadily followed
up, eventually brought us again to the main arete, only a
few hundred feet below the top. The gradient then became
less severe, although the drop on both sides was very great.
The porters caused some trouble and delay, owing to their
being unused to the rope.
We reached the summit (15,524 feet) at 2 p.m. It was
very sharp, being formed by two blocks of trap rock standing
on end, immediately below which was a vein of pure white
quartz. We believe this to be the first time that the summit
of Tatticooti has been reached.
The Pir Panjal has its seasons. In midwinter it is
covered by deep pure snow of dazzling whiteness, with
which the black cliffs and vertical faces of rock, the serrated
edges and the splintered crests of the ridges show up in sharp
contrast. Long gently curved lines of snowfield stand out
clearly against the sky. Deep cobalt-coloured shadows lie
on the mountain side, and are prolonged downwards into
THE VALE OF KASHMIR 9
an atmosphere of mauve, which drapes the lower slopes.
All the upland meadows, the margs and high valleys, are
completely enveloped by a white mantle many feet deep,
and the band of dark forest is speckled with the snow which
rests on and weighs down the branches of countless firs and
pines.
In the spring, melting takes place very rapidly. By
the end of February the valley of Kashmir is always free of
snow, and day by day the line recedes up the foot of the
hills. A few days of warm sunshine clears the trees. The
southern slopes of the margs soon become bare and stretches
of upland pasturage often present a rippled appearance.
This is due to the melting of the snow on the south side of
all inequalities in the ground, while that on the north side
remains. A bank, a tuft of grass, a furrow or clod all
act as cover to the snow and help to prolong its stay. But
soon all is gone and the upper slopes begin to show, first as
light brown and then as green patches. And when the
spring sun is shining, great sheets of the melting snowfields
above, like mirrors, reflect the dazzling light. Backwards
and upwards retreats the snow line, exposing first the fringe,
and then the masses of piled-up moraine which fills the upper
end of each tributary valley.
In the autumn the old snow is almost entirely melted on
the Pir Panjal range, leaving a series of grey rounded glaciers,
streaked with watercourses and resting in the hollows between
the peaks and main ridges.
The spring flowers are all gone. In their places we see
tufted spikes of the rich red polygonum, the tall lavender-like
stachys, the dwarf mauve swertia, and a delphinium with
large cowl-shaped flowers. Everlastings and edelweiss are
still abundant. Above the forest the slopes are clothed
with miles of juniper bush in dense dark green patches
among which red, orange and yellow clumps of euphorbia
with oleander-like leaves form beautiful masses of
colour.
io BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
On the higher peaks the last flower to be seen is the
Great Saussurea, like a globe of white velvet the size of a
cricket ball, the contour studded with violet blossoms,
each about half an inch across, which project slightly from
the surface. The whole rests in the centre of a rosette of
foliage (Plate 4). It is a most curious flower and greatly
prized by the people, ,who call it the king of medicines.
Decoctions of it form a bland and soothing drink which
the Kashmiris say is agreeable and helpful in catarrhal
affections of the digestive and respiratory tracts.
To approach the glacier, whereas in the spring we could
walk up slopes of hard snow, we have now to climb over long
stretches of moraine.
These ice-fields are wonderful in the autumn. In the
early morning before sunrise all the moisture is locked up
by frost. So keen is the cold even in the first week of
September that the inside of one's tent sparkles with rime
and looks like the interior of a salt-mine. Walking on the
glaciers at this time is difficult, if the slope is more than 20,
as in many places the ice is perfectly smooth. Where the
surface is slightly honeycombed it is easier. Absolute
silence reigns. Not a sound is to be heard at this early
hour. Having done our climb, on the return journey there
is a vast change.
In the early morning the sun rose in a cloudless sky.
Now fleecy clouds have gathered and tend to drift across
the higher peaks. The sunshine is hot and the silent glacier
of the forenoon has become alive with sound and motion.
Everywhere is the roaring sound of water. Torrents are
pouring down the icy slopes. The whole surface is wet and
glittering with the movement of water. Miniature avalanches
occur ever and anon on the steeper faces where snow has
remained, and falling stones are frequent. All the streams
are swollen and laden with debris. These diurnal variations
are at their height during the month of September, when the
great sun heat of the day is succeeded by frost at night and
4. THK GREAT SAl'SSfREA (SAUSSfREV GOSSYI'IPHORA).
THE VALE OF KASHMIR 11
the range of temperature between day and night often
exceeds iooF.
From the summit of Mount Tatticooti the view is most
impressive. Stretched out below us is the whole length of
the Vale of Kashmir with the winding, glittering Jhelum.
So sinuous is the river that some of its loops, three or four
miles long, have necks which are less than quarter of a mile
across. From Vernag, its source, to the point where it leaves
the valley the Jhelum is 122 miles long, although the distance
by road is only 80 miles.
The Banihal route to Jammu is the nearest and the most
direct to the Punjab. It leaves the valley at Vernag. A
few years ago a railway to India was on the point of being
constructed from here. It is greatly to be regretted that
the scheme was abandoned and that for political reasons
this road has been practically closed to ordinary traffic.
At the point at which it leaves the valley to cross the
Banihal Pass and join the Chenab valley at Ramband, there
is a beautiful garden. This was planted by the Emperor
Jehangir, whose favourite residence it became and who desired
to be carried there when dying. Amid avenues of lofty
chenar trees * are bubbling springs and crystal streams.
And at the upper end, under the shadow of a steep pine-
clad limestone scarp, lies a deep quiet octagonal pool of
dark blue water, 125 feet across, bounded by blocks of shaped
stone and surrounded by an ancient wall of masonry with
arched recesses. This tank is crowded with sacred fish,
some of which attain a considerable size. When crumbs
are thrown to them they come together and form a seething
mass of brown backs and gleaming yellow sides as they
struggle for the food.
This pool is the source of the Jhelum. From it issues
a clear, sparkling stream, which passes under an old balconied
building by which it is spanned. It flows down the centre
1 Platanus Orientalis. These magnificent plane trees attain a size
much greater than that of the largest English elms.
12 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
of the garden, below which it falls as a cascade and is aug-
mented by other springs among which is the Veth Vatru,
which although much smaller is regarded by the Hindus
as the true source of the Veth, as they call the Jhelum.
About 9 miles from Vernag, somewhat to the right of
the direct route to Islamabad, a ridge juts into the valley
from the northern range and terminates in the pointed cedar-
covered Sosanwar Hill. On the northern slope of this is
Achibal, another of Jehangir's beautiful gardens, with lines
of chenars, between which flows a clear stream, trained into
a broad stone-lined channel with square tanks and fountains
fed by the copious springs which gush out of the hillside
above.
At many places round the valley there are similar large
springs, most of them enclosed by tanks which contain sacred
fish. There is usually limestone in the immediate vicinity.
And very often in the neighbouring villages goitre is common.
Such tanks have probably been regarded with reverence
from olden days. Many are overshadowed by ancient elm
trees at the foot of which stand one or more Hindu images
daubed with red paint. In the " Ain Akbari " it is stated
that in 700 places in Kashmir there were carved figures of
snakes, worshipped by Hindus, and most of these were
associated with springs. After Vernag rank the sacred
ponds at Bawan, near Martand. There is also a beautiful
old Hindu sacred pool at Tregam at the west end of the
valley.
One of the most ancient forms of worship in Kashmir
was that of the pixies, who were believed to live in the water.
These are called Nags. And they were supposed to assume
the form of a snake, which enabled them to creep through
the hidden mountain channels and emerge at the springs.
Sometimes, like mermaids, they are said to have assumed
human form and to have been recognized by the water which
dripped from their locks. Curious legends are told of them.
" There is a well-known spring, Vaishak Nag, the water of
THE VALE OF KASHMIR 13
which is light and sweet. In the early part of May the wind
blows violently for three days and the water appears. In
October the water dries up and departs to the Jammu side
of the mountains for the winter. This happened hi the
following way. A holy man from the Jammu side, who
deplored the absence of water, came to Vaishak Nag and
by good fortune caught the snake, the lord of the spring, and
put it in his gourd ; while returning thanks he hung his gourd
on a tree. Two women coming by thought the gourd might
contain butter for anointing their hair, and took the gourd
down, whereupon the snake escaped. The holy man re-
turned and discovered his loss. As he stood weeping, Mir
Shah Baghdadi appeared, who, moved by the holy man's
distress, effected a compromise with the snake. So it comes
to pass that Kashmir gets its water for its rice crop,
while the Jammu villages receive water for their spring
crops."
The Kashmiri name for a spring is Nag, which is also the
word for snake; The cult of springs still goes on. One
of the favourite Hindu goddesses is Kir Bhawani. And
Tula Mula, the great spring of this goddess, is regarded
by many as the most sacred place in Kashmir. It is situ-
ated at the mouth of the Sind valley. The water is of a
dark blue colour. The Hindus say that when famine or
cholera is impending, the water changes its tint and
becomes darker.
From Islamabad the river becomes navigable for 100
miles, to a short distance below Baramula. On this great
waterway Islamabad is the eastern and Baramula the
western terminus. Between these and on its banks are
most of the larger towns and many villages. Srinagar
itself lies about the centre.
Islamabad, called by the Hindus Anant Nag, is the second
largest town in Kashmir, and has a population of about
10,500. It is clustered round the foot of a conical hill a
1 Lawrence, Valley of Kashmir.
14 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
huddle of earthen grass-covered roofs resting on wooden
frameworks, filled in with sun-dried bricks and plastered
with smooth grey or pale yellow mud. The general effect of
the town is most picturesque. It is embowered in apple
and pear orchards and traversed by numerous springs.
Some of these pour out from the foot of the hill and flow
into gardens under lofty chenar trees and past temples where
there are tanks full of sacred fish. Others, some of them
sulphurous, bubble up by the roadside in square stone-lined
pools, with steps leading down to the water's edge. And
rippling streams flow along the sides of the streets. Many of
the houses are old-fashioned, with quaint latticed verandahs
and balconies (Plate 5). The roads are paved with rough
slabs of stone. Here and there is a line of bakers' shops,
with large thin flat chupattis and all sorts of wheaten cakes
for sale. A little further on we pass through the black-
smiths' quarter and hear the clang of the hammer as red-hot
iron bars are being shaped into ploughshares or axeheads.
At Sop and Kothair, a few miles away, there are quanti-
ties of iron ore on the hillside. This used to be smelted in
primitive charcoal furnaces, worked with hand bellows.
But the industry is no longer carried on. The amount of
ore is fairly abundant. It seems a pity that the mines should
not be worked under proper management.- Although there
is no coal, there should be no difficulty in obtaining an ample
supply of charcoal for small smelting furnaces.
About twelve miles above Bawan is the village of Eish-
makam, with a picturesque Mohammedan shrine on the hill-
side. It is said that from this mountain King Zain-ul-ab-
ul-Din succeeded in obtaining sufficient copper to defray his
private expenditure.
In olden days one-fifth of the shawl-weaving of Kashmir
was done in Islamabad. The weaving and braiding of floor
and table cloths, which is still carried on, is the sole remains
of a once flourishing industry.
There is a branch here of the Srinagar Mission School,
THE VALE OF KASHMIR 15
and Miss Coverdale is doing quiet educational work among
the girls. Immediately outside the road to Bawan is the
C.M.S. Mission Hospital for Women, a pretty building of grey
stone and red brick, on an excellent site most kindly given
by H.H. the Maharajah for the purpose.
This is worked by Miss M. Gomery, M.D., of the Church
Missionary Society, with the help of a trained lady nurse,
Miss K. Newnham. In 1909 nearly 16,000 visits were paid
by patients, and in 1910 Dr Gomery did valuable work in the
terrible cholera epidemic.
This institution is becoming increasingly popular and has
been bringing a steady influence for good to bear upon the
whole town.
Three miles east of Islamabad, on the great plateau which
joins the Islamabad Hill to the mountain range which bounds
the left bank of the Lidar River, are the ruins of Martand, the
most famous of Kashmir temples.
The site is absolutely unique. Behind us are the lime-
stone ridges, which run round to the north to form the cliffs
of Bawan. But in front and right and left is a prospect
which can be nowhere matched. We look down on to vast
expanses of light green and gold and dark green and brown
plains and valleys streaked with gleams and flashes of light
playing on the flooded rice- fields, the winding river and its
tributaries. Further away are mauve-coloured slopes, blue
ridges and stretches of faint grey haze, obscuring the dis-
tance, and beyond all a complete circle of snows with a few
banks of fleecy clouds lightly resting here and there and
stretching up into the azure blue of the vaulted heavens
above.
Facing west is an old grey weather-worn gateway of
colossal blocks of stone, the sculpturing on which has almost
disappeared. From either side of this a massive colonnade
of 84 columns with intervening trefoil-arched recesses is
carried round to form a quadrangle about 250 feet long
and 150 feet broad.
1 6 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
These fine cloisters and the temple they contain, with
their fluted pillars, definitely proportioned bases, Doric
capitals, massive square architraves to the doors and elegant
trefoiled arches, although sadly ruined, still show all the
characteristics of the old classical Kashmiri style of archi-
tecture.
From a mound in the quadrangle rises what was origi-
nally a lofty central edifice approached by a wide flight of
steps. The ruins of the temple are now only 40 feet in
height. Each of the four sides is surmounted by very
beautiful and graceful trefoiled arches. From the western
entrance we look down a nave with sculptured walls, through
the choir, to the cella or sanctuary. And on either side of
the nave flanking the central building there are two side
chapels.
If the original roof was of the same character as that
found on other temples of that period, which still remain,
there may have been a lofty pyramid of stone blocks tower-
ing up to a pinnacle 75 feet above the ground and flanked by
smaller pyramids covering the wings on either side.
From the Rajatarangini, the famous chronicles of Kash-
mir, it appears probable that the central temple was built
by Ranaditya about the first half of the fifth century A.D.,
and the colonnade by King Lalataditya in the eighth
century.
Kashmir has changed less than most countries as the
centuries roll on, and it is not difficult to picture to ourselves
the olden days the temple of Martand bathed in the rosy
glow of the sinking sun. On the steps of the central edifice,
at its western portal, stands the Hindu priest blowing his
shell trumpet, while another strikes a bell. A few figures
clad in grey woollen tunics and caps are moving about.
At the edge of a neighbouring tank are women filling their
brass water-pots. And all the surroundings, the mountains
and valley, the plateau stretching away to Anant Nag and the
distant encircling ranges, silhouetted in purple against the
THE VALE OF KASHMIR 17
golden sky, are the same as now. And as night falls there is
wafted on the still air the fragrant odour of incense and the
sound of voices chanting in the temple under that pyramidal
roof which rises as a great shadow pointing to the starry
firmament above.
CHAPTER II
HISTORICAL EPOCHS
Early Hiadu Buddhist Hindu Kings Tribal Wars Tartar In-
vasion Mohammedan Rule Kashmir Sultans The Moghuls Akhbar
Jehangir Afghan Tyranny Sikh Invasion Ceded to British
Transferred to Dogra Dynasty.
THE Kashmiris owe much of their character and disposition
to their environment and especially to a long history of
tyranny and oppression.
Nothing is known of the early ages when aboriginal
tribes dwelt on the shores of the great Kashmir lake or in
the recesses of the dense forests. The earliest legends are
Hindu. But when or how that cult was introduced we know
not.
In olden days there used to be several books of chronicles
of the kings of Kashmir. These histories were called Raja-
tarangini, and it is said that there were as many as fifteen.
Early in the fourteenth century most of the old Hindu books
were destroyed by Zulzu the Tartar invader, and the work
of destruction was later on completed by Sikander the
Iconoclast. In the following century the enlightened King
Zain-ul-ab-ul-Din instituted a search for ancient manuscripts ;
and copies of four of the books were found. Of these
Kalhana's Chronicles were by far the most important. But
the history of thirty-five of the early Hindu kings was still
missing. Subsequently an old manuscript was discovered
written on birch bark. This was called the Ratnakar
Purana and was of especial interest, as it contained a record
of those kings whose reigns were omitted from Kalhana's
history. Zain-ul-ab-ul-Din had a Persian translation made.
But both this and the original have disappeared. A copy
of the translation is, however, said to have been obtained by
18
HISTORICAL EPOCHS 19
Hassan, who wrote a History of Kashmir in Persian. From
this and the Chronicles of Kalhana it appears that there
was a succession of Kashmir kings from 3120 B.C. to 1445 B.C.
Of the numerous dynasties the Pandava is perhaps the best
known. It is said that Ramadeo, the second of this line,
founded a large city on the Martand plateau and built the
first temple there. And another, King Sandiman, (2629-
2564 B.C.) is stated to have built an extensive city on the
site now occupied by the Wular Lake. He is also said to
have built the original Jyeshteswara temple upon the hill
now known as the Takht-i-Suleiman.
Many Kashmiri Hindus hold that the present temples
of Martand on the Takht and elsewhere were built by a
race of giants or gods, and they triumphantly ask whether
any human beings could construct such massive edifices.
The earliest corns which have been found in Kashmir
are those of Avanti Varma of the Utpala dynasty (875 A.D.).
And it was this king who erected the temple of Avantipoor,
which is similar in construction to that of Martand. But
there is an immense gap between this period and the early
kings of Kashmir legend.
We cannot even tell how long it was before Buddhism
first made its appearance. But we know that 250 years
before the Christian era, Asoka, the great Buddhist King of
Northern India, also held sway over Kashmir. And Bud-
dhism was then the national religion. The ancient capital
of Kashmir, the ruins of which can still be seen extending
along the foot of the Zabrwan Mountain from Pandretthan
to Aitgaji gap, is said to have been founded by him. And
throughout the valley many stupas and temples were
erected in his reign. His son Jaloka is, however, said to
have reverted to the worship of Siva, on account of his
attachment to the Naga maidens.
A subsequent revival of Buddhism took place, and that
religion reached its zenith in Kashmir in the time of King
Kanishka, the Indo-Scythian monarch of northern extraction,
20 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
who reigned about 40 A. D., the time when in the west our
own isles were being invaded by the Romans.
The famous third great council of Buddhism was held
at this period. And the proceedings of the synod, engraven
on copper plates, were, according to the Chinese pilgrim
Hwen Thseng, deposited in a stupa at a place which has
been identified as Ushkpur, near Baramula. In 1882 Mr
Garrick, of the Archaeological Survey, carried out very ex-
tensive excavations in hope of finding them, but failed. The
success of recent explorations in the north of India encourage
us to hope that they may yet be discovered.
Buddhism gradually declined and by 638 A.D. it is
recorded that the monasteries were few and partly deserted
and the people addicted to Devas. 1 The Buddhists were
then leaving Kashmir and gradually making their way
eastward into Tibet and across the Chinese Empire.
For a lengthy period Kashmir was now again ruled by
a succession of Hindu kings, some of whom were tributary
to China. Of the disposition of one Mihirakula (515 A.D.)
we obtain a glimpse. South of Aliabad Serai, where the
Pir Panjal route to the Punjab emerges from Kashmir, there
is a ridge called the Hasti Vanj. A legend relates how the
king, who was marching his army across, was so amused
by the cries, struggles and agonies of an elephant which
had fallen down the ravine that he ordered a hundred more
to be forced over the precipice. 1
Lalataditya, who reigned from 697-738 A.D., is the best
known of the Hindu kings. He built temples of which the
most famous is Martand. He constructed canals, drained
swamps and was a successful general. About a century
later, 855-883 A.D., another famous king, Avanti Varma, also
carried on drainage works and erected the Avantipoor
temples. And his son Shankaravarman built the temples
of Pattan.
1 Hwen Thseng. Quoted by Dr Stein,
* Lawrence, Valley of Kashmir.
HISTORICAL EPOCHS 21
From this time dissensions and civil war began to arise
and there were protracted periods of internecine strife.
Kashmir clans, the descendants of which still exist in the
valley, Damaras, Palas, Khashas, Tantris and Thakkurs,
formed predatory bands and carried fire and the sword
throughout the country. Demoralization followed. And
in 1305 A.D., in the reign of King Simha Deva, Kashmir is
said to have been a country of drunkards, gamblers and
profligate women.
Then came the Tartar Invasion. Srinagar was burnt
and the population massacred or carried off as slaves. But
Zulzu, the invader, was forced by famine to retreat, and
with his whole force and thousands of unhappy captives he
perished in the snow on one of the southern passes.
With a short interruption of fifteen years Kashmir in
1323 A.D. came for nearly four and a half centuries under
Mohammedan rule. First a Tibetan adventurer, Rainchan
Shah, who for political reasons embraced Islam, and then
the Kashmiri Mohammedan dynasty, came into power.
Of the Kashmiri Moslem Kings, Sikander the Iconoclast
(1394 A.D.) is best known, as his reign was one of terror and
marked by the demolition of the magnificent old Hindu
temples and the slaughter of thousands of Hindus. Many
others fled and most, especially those of the lower castes,
embraced Mohammedanism.
The most famous of the Kashmiri Sultans was Zain-ul-
ab-ul-Din, who reigned for fifty-two years from 1417 A.D.
He ruled well and carried out many works of public utility,
and his reign was perhaps the happiest period in Kashmir
history. His son was a drunkard and chaos supervened.
After sustaining one serious defeat the troops of the
Emperor Akbar reached Srinagar in 1586 A.D. A battle
took place at the foot of the Takht-i-Suleiman. This was
not decisive. But after more fighting the Moghuls were
eventually victorious. Akbar built the great bastioned
wall round the Hari Parbat Hill. Jehangir, who succeeded
22 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
Akbar, has left his mark in Kashmir in numerous gardens
with chenar trees and fountains.
During the Moghul rule, Kashmir was, on the whole,
prosperous and fertile and the shawl industry first assumed
importance.
As the Moghul empire began to wane the local governors
of Kashmir became increasingly tyrannical and oppressive,
especially to the Hindus. But the Afghan rule from 1752-54
is regarded as the worst period of Kashmir history.
We read of Hindus being tied up two and two in grass
sacks and thrown into the Dal Lake. They were not allowed
to wear shoes or turbans. A poll-tax was instituted. And
once again the alternatives were set before them, of con-
version, death or flight. The abduction of Hindu women,
too, by the dissolute Mussulman rulers was common.
At last a measure of relief came. In 1819, in response
to an appeal from Kashmir, Ranjit Singh the Sikh, " Lion of
the Punjab," sent in a force which defeated the governor of
Kashmir near Shupeyon. This change of rule, although
an improvement, benefited the Hindus more than the
Mussulmans. Moorcroft, speaking of those days, refers to
the deserted condition of villages, and to the exorbitant
taxes, amounting sometimes to nine -tenths of the whole
harvest. And he says: "The Sikhs seem to look upon the
Kashmirians as little better than cattle. The murder of a
native by a Sikh is punished by a fine to the Government of
from sixteen to twenty rupees, of which four rupees are paid
to the family of the deceased, if a Hindu, and two rupees
if he was a Mohammedan." Unpaid forced labour was the
rule, and for this purpose people were seized and driven
along the roads, tied together with rope, like slave gangs.
Moti Ram, the first Sikh governor, however, introduced a
more humane regime. But his successors were incompetent.
The combined effect of their feeble administration, a severe
earthquake in 1827 and famine in 1831 was to reduce Kashmir
once more to the depths of distress. An able governor,
HISTORICAL EPOCHS 23
Mian Singh, restored prosperity to some extent. But after
his assassination by mutinous troops, disorder and anarchy
became universal. Meanwhile Rajah Gulab Singh, the
Dogra ruler of Jammu, had twice entered Kashmir. The
first time was in 1819 with the Sikh force sent by Ranjit
Singh. On the second occasion, in 1842, he came in to restore
order after the murder of Mian Singh.
On gth March 1846, in the treaty following the Battle of
Sobraon, Kashmir was ceded to the British Government by
the Sikhs in lieu of a war indemnity. And a week later, on
i6th March, the British transferred Kashmir to Golab Singh,
receiving hi exchange 75 lakhs of rupees (500,000, less than
one year's revenue at the present time), and the promise of a
nominal annual tribute, one horse, twelve shawl goats and
three pairs of Kashmir shawls. Golab Singh engaged to " join
with the whole of his military force the British troops when
employed within the hills, or in the territories adjoining his
possessions; and the British Government promised " to give
its aid to Maharajah Golab Singh in protecting his territories
from external enemies."
The British had at once to fulfil their part of the treaty,
for Imamuddin, the Governor of Kashmir, refused to give up
Kashmir and defeated the troops sent by Maharajah Golab
Singh to turn him out. On the movement, however, of
a British force into Jammu territory, he surrendered.
Maharajah Golab Singh was a stern and vigorous but capable
and just ruler. He came to Kashmir and himself took charge
of the administration, to the great benefit of the State. He
died in 1857.
Maharajah Ranbir Singh, his third son, who succeeded
him, was a just and tolerant ruler and a good friend to the
British in the dark days of the Mutiny. But during his reign
Kashmir, although its condition was improving, again
suffered much at the hands of rapacious officials, who took
advantage of the absence of the Maharajah in Jammu.
This brief review of its history shows that for centuries
24 BEYOND THE FIR PANJAL
Kashmir was subject to constant changes of administration,
that good rulers were rare and there was no permanency in
the system of government. And although such cruelty as
that of the Afghans was the exception, still there were long
periods when religious persecution was rife, and tyranny,
oppression, exaction and virtual slavery at the hands of the
rulers, alternated with anarchy, disorder and even civil war.
Then came the Pax Britannica, Dogra rule but under
Christian influence. Hindus, Buddhists, Kashmiri Moham-
medans, Moghuls, Afghans and Sikhs had all hi turn occupied
this unhappy country. But with the accession of Maha-
rajah Golab Singh dawned an era of peace, continuity of
administration, reform and development of the resources of
the country.
In half a century Kashmir has, under Dogra rule, pro-
gressed far upon the road to recovery from its sorrows and
woes. Time is still required.
The habits and customs of generations become a second
nature and are slow hi passing away. It may be long before
we have complete religious toleration in Kashmir. But
education and reform of all kinds are steadily advancing, and
freedom cannot be far behind.
CHAPTER III
THE PEOPLE
Character Food Women Religion Shrine Worship Hindus
Clans Language Proverbs A Dialogue.
THE two indispensable officials of the Kashmir village are the
lumbardar and the chowkidar. The latter is practically the
village policeman, and his duties are light, as although the
Kashmiri is by nature deceitful and given to petty larceny,
in the villages there is a public opinion which compels the
fulfilment of pecuniary engagements or contracts and puts
down fraud and dishonesty. This system works fairly satis-
factorily, so far as the village is concerned, but there are, of
course, frequent defaulters. In relation to Government,
the Kashmiri conscience is very lax, and deceit and robbery
are condoned by the villagers even if they do not aid and
abet. Europeans are treated as if they were officials, so
they have to be careful or they will be cheated. Indeed,
they have suffered much hi connection with the grain trade.
Large advances made to villagers in connection with con-
tracts for grain delivery have been absolutely repudiated
and the money misappropriated. And hitherto, in matters
of this kind, European capitalists have received no encour-
agement from the Kashmiri Government, and have some-
times been unable to obtain justice.
The Kashmiri lumbardar, or village headman, is usually
an elderly man, often tall, with a beard dyed red with henna,
with his upper lip closely cropped and a large rather dirty
white turban on his shaven head. He has a long tunic or
pheran of puttoo (Kashmiri woollen cloth), wide, baggy cotton
26 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
trousers, cut off just below the knee, bare legs and feet, with
putties and stout, pointed shoes.
The ordinary villager looks very dirty. On his head he
wears a greasy old grey, orange or red skull-cap. His cotton
pheran, rather like a night-gown, but with wide sleeves,
originally white, is now grey. Loose, short cotton trousers
and plaited sandals of rice straw complete his costume.
But on his back he has a long, grey woollen Kashmiri blanket,
with the end thrown over his left shoulder. Those who have
Government employment or service with Europeans often
wear puttoo coats, putties and leather sandals (Plate 6).
Many Kashmiris wear charms. The little children have
them sewn on to the tops of their caps, a smooth polished
pebble, two or three leopard's claws or a metal ornament.
The men and women have little oblong packets, about two
inches by one, of cloth or leather, tied to their caps or round
the neck or one of the arms. These amulets usually contain
a piece of paper inscribed with cabalistic signs or with a few
words from the Koran. The people are good-tempered,
often merry; they have a distinct sense of humour and enjoy
a joke. Sir Walter Lawrence gives a typical instance of
their grim humour. " One day while hearing a petition I
noticed an elderly Hindu villager standing on his head.
He remained in that position for nearly half an hour, when I
asked him his business. He then explained that his affairs
were in so confused a state that he did not know whether he
was standing on his head or his heels." If making a petition,
a common demonstration to indicate their sad condition is
" a procession of two men and one woman. One man wears
a shirt of matting. One carries a pan of embers on his head,
and the woman bears a number of broken earthen pots."
They are, however, patient, industrious in their field
occupations and capable of great endurance.
The Kashmiri coolie is a wonderful being. In these days
of revived athletic cult a meed of praise should not be with-
held from men who can carry a weight of 100 Ib. for five or
THE PEOPLE 27
more miles, and who often carry a load of 60 Ib. for a whole
march of six kos (12 miles).
They begin early. Little children may often be seen
coming down from the forest, each carrying a load of
wood proportioned to his size. A little five-year-old child
is carrying a bundle of sticks weighing at least 30 Ib.
Behind him are two or three boys, perhaps eight or ten
years old, each with faggots of wood from 40 to 60 Ib. in
weight.
In their daily life the villagers, who are mostly cultivators,
are in the habit of carrying heavy loads of grass and other
field produce.
In appearance the coolie is often sallow, about 5 feet 6
in height, with a short beard and shaven head, covered with
a dirty skull-cap. His physique is not at first sight im-
pressive. He is spare. There is no great obvious
development of muscle, certainly nothing of the " Sandow "
type. But the muscle is there, hard and compact and
able to perform these astonishing feats of load-carrying.
The coolie is in many ways deft with his hands. He can
twist saplings into tough withes for lashing together loose
bundles. He can plait most serviceable grass sandals and
prove himself an agricultural " handy man " in many direc-
tions. Nevertheless, he is timid, afraid of bogeys and of
being left alone in the dark. Most coolies are cowardly and
inclined to be untruthful and deceitful, but not all. I have
known brave men who have risked their lives for others,
with no applauding gallery and no laudatory press to approve.
Kashmiri coolies sometimes deserve decorations but in-
stead they too often get blows and curses, not often from
their English employers, but very frequently from the native
servants or chaprasies of Europeans.
The coolie is often of cheerful disposition. If during the
day he grumbles at the weight of his load, the length of the
road or the steepness of the hills and the probability that
the camping place may be cold and without shelter or fire-
28 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
wood, he soon forgets his woes when the tents are pitched,
fires lighted and his rice is cooking in a large earthenware
pot, from which issues a savoury smell. And when he has
eaten his fill he often breaks out into song as he sits by the
camp-fire, and becomes conversational and even confidential.
Ah, those camp-fires! What pleasant associations they
conjure up, as after the toil of the day one sits and watches
the mighty sheets of flame tongued and forked, twisting,
bending, leaping, flashing or even fiercely roaring and com-
pelling one to shift one's seat. In the background the tall,
dark shadowy outline of the firs or the grey rocks catching up
and reflecting back the ruddy glow, while showers of sparks
like golden rain are given off and floating upwards are lost
in the darkness above. The aromatic scent of the burning
firewood is carried on the crisp, cold, pure mountain air.
A little further off is another similar fire, casting its red light
on the faces of the cook and some of his coolie helpers. No
sound is heard but the crackling of wood and the occasional
louder explosion of a noisy fragment, the call of a fox or
jackal close by or the croak of the night-jar.
How often have we sat by similar camp-fires in years
gone by with many different companions, some of whom have
passed away.
In spite of his great physical strength and powers of en-
durance, the Kashmiri is highly strung and neurotic, and he
will often weep on slight provocation. In the presence of
very little danger he will sob like a child. These people can
bear pain much better than Europeans, but owing to want of
self-control they make more fuss. Naturally impulsive and
huffy, they respond readily to tactful handling. On the whole
they are grateful for benefits. Their moral sense is fairly
well developed. They readily distinguish between right and
wrong. In money affairs they are close, and the more wealthy
are mean. They spend little, and except at weddings care
nothing for show. Even the rich wear dirty clothes lest
they should be thought too well off. They are affectionate
THE PEOPLE 29
in family life, and very good in nursing sick relatives
(Plate 7).
The staple food in the valley is rice. Round the hills
it is maize and wheat, and higher up buckwheat and barley.
Vegetables and lentils, peas, etc., are largely consumed.
Meat is a luxury for occasional consumption. A man doing
full work will eat as much as 3 Ib. of rice in a day.
Kashmiri children are often bright, pleasant and pretty,
but spoilt. Owing to the conditions of life, they acquire,
in certain directions, a remarkable gift of bearing responsi-
bility and even of taking initiative action. A small child,
five years old, will be seen driving an enormous buffalo along
and thumping it with a big stick at intervals. Children will
cleverly round up sheep and goats, for there are no properly-
trained sheep-dogs. Early in the morning they take the herds
and flocks up to the hills and drive them back at night. And
often we may see a very small child lying on the grass by
the side of a babbling stream, in entire charge of the flocks
and herds which are peacefully grazing around. The girls
are the great water-carriers. Owing to hard work they soon
lose their good looks. They are married at an early age,
soon after ten. Little girls wear small skull-caps, and may
have their hair beautifully done in a large number of plaits
spread out over the back and gracefully braided together
(Plate 8). After marriage, however, a thicker turban-like
red cap, studded with pins, is worn, and over it a square
of country cloth to act as a veil and cover the whole
back. The rest of the usual dress of the village women is
an ample pheran of dark blue cotton print, with a red pattein
stamped on it ; or the gown may be of grey striped cotton or
wool, with wide sleeves turned back and showing a dirty
lining. Round the neck a collar of silver or brass, enamelled
in red or blue, or a coral and silver bead necklace, is usually
worn; and large metal ear-rings are common. Glass bangles
or massive silver bracelets and finger rings, with agate or
cornelian, complete the list of ordinary jewellery worn by
30 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
Kashmiri women. The feet are bare, or leather shoes, often
green, are worn. The houses are without chimneys, so the
inmates become smoke-begrimed. There are fewer Moham-
medan women than men. The ratio is about nine to ten.
Perhaps for this reason polygamy is comparatively uncommon.
More females are born than males, but baby girls do not
receive so much care as the boys, and the mortality from
smallpox and infantine diseases is higher. The girls are
often mothers at the age of fourteen.
Kashmiri women vary very much. A very large number of
the peasant women are dirty, degraded and debased. But
there are not a few who are very different and who are capable
and manage their houses and children and even their husbands.
Kashmiris are attached to their own country and often
use the proverb Tsari chhu hand thari peth qarar " A
sparrow is content on its own branch."
About five per cent, of the Mohammedans are Shiahs.
Although a highly respectable community, these are looked
upon by the orthodox Mussulmans as outcasts. Curiously
enough, although the Sunnis are friendly with the Hindus,
the Shiahs abhor them. The Shiahs are more friendly to
Christians than ordinary Mohammedans. They may be
recognized by their turbans, which are tied differently.
Apart from shrine worship and times of special stress from
disease or disaster, the Kashmiris show very little religious
zeal or earnestness.
They are called Pir-parast, i.e., saint worshippers. " No
man will dare to pass a shrine on horseback, and I once saw
a striking example of the danger of neglecting this rule.
A marriage-party was crossing a stream, above which stood
the shrine of a saint. All of them dismounted and passed
over the bridge, but the father of the bridegroom, with the
bridegroom hi his arms, rode boldly over. The bridge broke,
and the horse, father and son were precipitated into the
stream, where they lay struggling. I ran up and rebuked
the crowd for not assisting the sufferers, but they looked
THE PEOPLE 31
on gloomily and said the man richly deserved his fate.
After some trouble I induced some of my own people to dis-
entangle the men from the horse, and then one of the attend-
ants of the shrine explained to me that within the last ten
years four men who had despised the saint and had ridden
over the bridge had been killed." *
After the Hazrat Bal ziarut the shrine at Tsrar ranks
as the most sacred. Indeed, a pilgrimage thither is supposed
to obviate any special necessity for going to Mecca. In
case of famine, earthquake, or cholera, thousands of people
resort to Tsrar, most of them bringing offerings with them
rice, walnuts, money, a fat capon, or even a ram. Twice
or thrice a year, under ordinary conditions, large fairs are
held at the more important of the shrines (Plate 9). Thou-
sands gather together: the roads are lined with temporary
booths with a great display of sweetmeats and cakes, painted
clay figures, fruit and ornaments such as ear-rings, glass
bangles, metal bracelets, bright - coloured skull-caps and
waistcoats. Large numbers of women attend. For them
it is the equivalent of the Bank Holiday. Here too may
be seen the Kashmiri minstrels. These have long clarionet-
like pipes and drums and produce most weird music, often
in the minor key. Sometimes they are reinforced by fiddles
curious instruments, with a barbaric twang. Such com-
panies of strolling musicians often have with them dancing
boys with long hair, dressed up as women. As a general
rule these people are Mussulmans. They are in special
request at weddings and harvest feasts. Some of them are
said to be good actors and to have valuable dresses and stage
properties.
Among the more important shrines of the second rank
may be mentioned that of Zain Shah at Eishmakam, which is
much resorted to by boatmen, who offer up there the first
locks of hair of their children The Kulgam ziarut, with its
pagoda-like roof, its painted lattice work and rich carving,
1 Lawrence, Valley of Kashmir.
32 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
is noteworthy. But many of the larger villages have very
handsome ziaruts, most of which stand hi impressive groves
of Kabuli poplar, elm, chenar, or of the rounded dark green
foliaged Celtis Australensis.
In the ranks of those who were converted from Hinduism
there were two whose names are now regarded with great
reverence. One of these is Makhdum Sahib, whose shrine
is on the Hari Parbat hill, and the other Sheikh Nur Din,
whose memorial is the shrine at Tsrar. These two names
are constantly invoked by Kashmiris in times of trouble.
Sheikh Nur Din is the great national saint of Kashmir.
He had ninety-nine disciples or khalifas. Most of the best-
known shrines can be traced back to one or other of these,
as, for instance, the ziaruts at Shukr-ud-din, Eishmakam,
Baba Marishi and Poshkar.
The successors of the khalifas were called Rishis, and some
of the Pirs still bear that title.
There are about 65,000 Brahmans in Kashmir. Nearly
half of these live in the city or larger towns. They are
divided up into clans and families, with distinctive
names, and intermarriage is not permitted within the
clan.
The Hindus of Kashmir are not nearly so particular
about caste observances as those in India. They will, for
instance, drink water which is brought by a Mussulman,
and eat food which has been cooked on the boat of a Moham-
medan, and will even allow Mussulmani foster-mothers for
their infants. On the other hand, curiously enough, they
refuse to eat fruit of a red colour, such as rosy apples and
tomatoes.
The Brahmans have faces of the pure high Arian type.
The Mohammedans have well-shaped heads, with good broad
and high forehead. The nose is rather prominent and tends
to be hooked, especially in the older people. The upper
lip is rather deep. The average height of the Kashmiri
is about five feet four inches to eight inches. It is commoner
THE PEOPLE 33
to find them below than above this. Their muscular develop-
ment is good, especially the chest and arms. The legs are
often rather thin and spindle-shaped.
Among the Mussulmans there are also clans, but these are
only nominal; and there are no restrictions placed upon
intermarriage except with Saiyads at the top of the social
scale and menials at the bottom.
There are still in the valley many families of the Chak
clan, but they have settled down into quiet and peaceable
cultivators. It was not always so. In the reign of Sultan
Zain-ul-ab-ul-Din they gave much trouble and formed
bands of marauders. It is thought that they came from
some district to the north of Kashmir, and that perhaps
they were originally Dards. At the north-west end of the
valley there are the ruins of an old Chak city. And the
beautiful Tregim pool, where a clear stream issues from the
limestone rock, is believed to have been enclosed by Maddan
Chak. In 1556 A.D. Ghazi Khan, son of Kazi Chak, was de
facto ruler in Kashmir. And it was the Chaks under Yakub
Khan and Shams-i-Cbak who defeated the Emperor Akbar's
forces at their first invasion of Kashmir ; and they were
again very nearly successful in repelling the second invasion
in 1586.
There are still some Pathan colonies at the north-west
end of Kashmir. Of these perhaps the most interesting is
a clan of Afridis, who live in a valley opening into the Lolab.
They are differently dressed to the Kashmiris and more
manly, and with their long matchlocks, swords and
shields they make a brave show.
Another clan, of lower class than the Chaks, and, like
most of the inferior class in Kashmir, with darker complexions
than the ordinary cultivators, is that of the Galawans.
These gave great trouble during the Pathan reign. They
drove off flocks and herds, looted granaries and even attacked
wedding parties and abducted the bride. Being well-armed
and all mounted, they eluded pursuit, and it was not till
34 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
Colonel Mian Singh, in the days of the Sikhs, captured and
hanged the chief and exterminated a large part of the tribe
that their depredations ceased. The rest were deported to
Bunji, on the Gilgit road. Many, however, have returned,
and horse-stealing is still not uncommon.
The lowest class in Kashmir is that of the sweepers or
watuls. These are extremely dishonest. Many of them are
cobblers, others work in leather and straw or act as house
and road sweepers. They are dark skinned and are really
the gipsies of Kashmir. Their women are often quite
beautiful. Those who are more settled live in little Kashmir
houses. Others dwell in clusters of wattle huts, with
rounded tops, perched by preference upon slightly raised
ground. Some of them are eaters of carrion, and these
are treated as outcasts by the Mohammedan peasantry.
Although ruled by Hindus, Kashmir is now really a
Mohammedan country. For ninety-three per cent, of the
people are Mussulmans. There are few Hindu cultivators,
but in the villages there are many shopkeepers and subordinate
revenue and forest officers of this religion. More than half
of the Hindu population, however, lives in Srinagar.
The language is of Hindu origin with Sanskrit roots and
allied to Western Punjabi. As may be supposed it is rich
in agricultural terms. But the vocabulary is small and
inadequate for present day use, being conspicuously weak
in terms both for the implements and materials of modern
civilized life and for abstract ideas.
With the exception of the Rajatarangini, chronicles
of the kings of Kashmir, some Hindu sacred literature and
a few lives of Rishis or saints, there is no indigenous literature.
The people are profoundly illiterate. Those who can read
usually prefer Persian or Urdu to Kashmiri. In the district
we sometimes find only three or four in a whole village
who can read, and these usually belong to the official or
priestly classes.
Kashmiri is a curious mixed language. Originally, in
THE PEOPLE 35
the days of the Hindu kings, it was doubtless to a large ex-
tent derived from Sanskrit. But the many political changes,
with their introduction of Mohammedan rulers for long
periods, account for the large number of Persian and Arabic
words which have become incorporated. At the present
time perhaps three-quarters of the vocabulary is derived
from Urdu, Persian and Arabic sources, and the remainder
from Sanskrit. But undoubtedly the purer the Kashmiri
the larger is the proportion of words of Sanskrit derivation.
There are many interesting and amusing proverbs in fre-
quent use by the people. Some of these give an insight into
the views of the people with regard to their rulers, their
religious teachers, and their own village life. Not a few of
them breathe out memories of their unhappy history and the
oppression which they have suffered for such long periods.
For instance
" Hakimas ta hdkimas nishih rachhtam Khodayo."
" O God, save me from physicians and rulers "
is pungent, but justified by almost daily experience in the
East.
" Pir na bod yakin bod."
" The pir is not great. It is credulity which is great."
This shows that hi spite of the almost universal respect
which is paid to the Pirs or saints, it is nevertheless fully
recognized that they make great demands on the credulity
of their followers.
In Kashmir, influence is often of far more value than
money, because it is the source of money. This is empha-
sized in the following proverb
" Kanh mat ditam
Kantil nitam."
14 Don't give me anything, but listen to me.*
Mohammedans are often said to present some of the
characters of the Pharisees of old. That this opinion is
36 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
endorsed by some at least of the Kashmiris, so far as their
priests are concerned, the following proverb shows
" Yih moullah dapi ti gatshi karun, yih moullah kari ti gatshi na karun.
" Do as the priest says but not as he does."
Some of the proverbs enunciate sound principles in a
terse phrase, e.g.
" Manz atsun chhu kanz atsun."
"To go between, i.e., to act as a surety, is to put your head into a mortar."
" Khairas tajfl ta nydyas ttil."
" Swift to do good, slow to do evil."
Similar to our proverb, " Wolf in sheep's clothing," is the
Kashmiri Gobi buthi ramahun, " A wolf with the face of a
sheep." In his dictionary of Kashmiri proverbs and say-
ings, the Rev. J. Hinton Knowles has gathered together a
large number of similar epigrams from the interesting folk-
lore of the valley.
The administration of justice is still most unsatisfactory.
The highest magistrates are upright and uncorrupt. But
the police system is a scandal and disgrace. The people
regard the police in much the same light as they do earth-
quakes, famine or pestilence as a calamity. A well-known
Kashmiri proverb illustrates this well. Khuda sanz khar,
tah naid sanz chep. This means, " God gives the scaldhead,
but the barber makes matters worse by wounding your
head." This proverb is said to be often applied to a woman
who, having lost a child in the river, is arrested by the police
on a trumped-up charge of murder. False charges of this
kind are extremely common. I remember being told of
two men who were attacked by a bear and one of them was
killed. The other was promptly arrested by the police and
not released until he had paid a substantial sum. In police
inquiries the innocent usually suffer quite as much as the
guilty, and the giving and taking of bribes is shameless and
THE PEOPLE 3;
notorious. Except where the evidence is unusually strong,
it is almost impossible to secure a conviction, in cases in
which the accused is a man of means. The whole police
force needs radical reform. And to effect this it ought to
have European officers until a reliable local staff has been
trained.
It is rare now to find a village of any size in which there
are no old patients of the Kashmir Mission Hospital. What
is their attitude towards the Institution? It may be de-
picted in an imaginary conversation, which we will suppose
to be held under a chenar tree near the village tank. Those
who take part in it are Ramzana, a villager; Mohammed
Sheikh, headman of village; Lachman Pandit, a Hindu
shopkeeper; and Maulvi Nur-ud-Din, Mohammedan priest.
Ramzana (entering his village after having been in the
Mission Hospital for disease of the bone of his right leg for
two months). How are you all?
Mohammed Sheikh. Quite well, thank God. How are
you? they did not cut off your leg then!
Ramzana. No. I thought they were going to and
tried to run away, but they caught hold of me, and
before I knew where I was they had put me on a table,
tied a bandage above my knee and given me some curious
stuff to smell. I know I struggled, but soon everything
began to whirl round and round, and then I do not remember
anything more till I found myself in a very large room, in a
comfortable bed, with a red blanket and white sheets and a
floor shining like glass. On either side of me and opposite
there were rows of beds full of men and boys, who all seemed
as jolly as anything.
Mohammed Sheikh. Yes, I know. I went there with
Farzi, you know, my little granddaughter. There was a
crowd in the room where we had to wait for two hours before
we could see the doctor. He came in to see us at the be-
ginning, and read some verses out of the Holy Gospel, and
then told us what the meaning was, and he talked Kashmiri
38 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
just like a book. Farzi was quite blind and they did some-
thing to her eyes. They did not give her anything on a
towel to smell, but dropped something into her eyes and then
they put in what looked like a needle. The funny thing
was that it did not seem to hurt. Farzi never said a word.
And the doctor held up two fingers and said, " How many
are there? " and I was absolutely astounded to hear her
say " two." The wisdom (hikmat) of these foreigners is
wonderful. And they have very gentle hands. Then they
took Farzi and put her into a women's ward, where there
were several other little girls, and there was a miss sahib,
who was so kind and gave the children dolls and toys and
they had a curious box which you could wind up like a clock
and it then produced music like I once heard played at the
Palace, where His Highness the Maharajah Sahib Bahadur
lives. And the miss sahib used to come every day and read
from the Holy Gospel about the Spirit of God, the Holy
Jesus, Who was sinless and went about doing good, and Who
died to take away our sins.
Ramzana. Why, that was just what the doctor sahib
did at our end of the hospital, and we had great discus-
sions when he went away. One man there, an old fakir,
said that he had travelled in many countries and been to
Africa too, and that lots of the English were bad and
violent and drank too much and used dreadful language.
But that he had found out that those who did this did not
believe in their own religion and hated the name of Jesus,
and that those who were disciples of the Holy Jesus were
quite different. And he told us about an old colonel sahib
who had been very good to him, and he said, " Since I met
him I believe in Christ and mean to obey His words."
Maulvi Nur-ud-Din. There is no God but God, and
Mohammed is the Prophet of God. (Other villagers join in
repeating the Mohammedan Kalima.) Maulvi Nur-ud-Din.
These foreigners have a Book and they believe in God, in a
way, but they do not acknowledge the Prophet Mohammed,
THE PEOPLE 39
and their Scriptures are tampered with and spoiled, and they
say that Hazrat Isa was God Incarnate, which is rank
heresy.
Mohammed Sheikh. I don't know. I remember the
miss sahib used to tell us that you could tell a tree by its
fruits, and she said the Christians led purer and holier lives
than the Mussulmans, owing to the fact that they believe in
Christ and He helps them.
Ramzana. That was just what the doctor sahib said.
Lachman Pandit. You Mohammedans think you are
the only people who believe in one God, but we Hindus do,
and our poet Tulsi Das has taught us that God is one and our
Father, and He is all powerful. Why should He not be able
to become incarnate as the Christians say He did? I, too,
was in the Mission Hospital twenty years ago, when I broke
my leg, and I shall always remember the teaching I heard
there and the care which I received, far more than I had had
from my own people. I would long ago have liked to become
a Christian, believing that religion to be the purest of all and
the most full of hope and love. In it I see the fulfilment of
much which the best and noblest Hindus have striven after.
But I dare not. I should become an outcast and lose all
that makes life worth having.
Mohammed Sheikh. Quite right, Panditji. Every one
should stick to his own religion. If God had meant you to be
a Christian, He would have made you one.
Maulvi Nur-ud-Din. No, no. There is only one true
religion, " La Illahu illah Allah." But I admit that if all
Christians were like those at the Mission Hospital, we could
live with them on brotherly terms. My father died three
years ago. I hated the idea of his dying under an un-
believer's roof. And yet the old man died quite happy. He
was a true Mussulman, but he had a very special reverence
for Hazrat Isa.
Ramzana. That's just it. Nearly all the people seem
to learn that there. When the doctor sahib was reading
40 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
prayers in the ward, at least ten people joined in, saying
Amen fervently. Now there is Lassoo. He is quite different
since he was there. I am sure he does not tell nearly so
many lies, and he no longer beats his womenfolk. I be-
lieve he has a copy of the Gospels in his house.
Maulvi Nur-ud-Din. He had better mind what he is
about or I will have him excommunicated. Tell him to
bring the book to me. But it is time for prayers. Run and
tell Rasula to call the faithful.
(They all walk away slowly, except the Pandit, who goes
down to the stream to fill his brass lota.)
Photo by]
10. THE MAR CANAL.
[/?. E. Shorter.
CHAPTER IV
SRINAGAR
Population Bridges Palace H.H. the Maharajah Administration
Merchants Silk Factory On the River Shah-i-Hamadan Mosque
Sikhs Hindus Street Life.
SRINAGAR was built about 960 A.D. Its population now is
approximately 126,344. So crowded are the houses, how-
ever, that the total area of the city does not exceed six square
miles, and within this space there are at least 20,000 houses,
occupied by, on an average, six people each. It is not
therefore surprising that the conditions of life should be
extremely insanitary.
The city can be best seen by first passing down its great
central highway, the river, and then traversing some of the
chief streets and passing the Mar Canal. The latter is pic-
turesque, with its overhanging buildings and rich tones of
brown or light red in the woodwork, its quaint old bridges
and irregular ghats (Plate 10).
The river as it passes through is about 200 feet wide.
The current keeps the water comparatively fresh and clean.
In its course through the city the Jhelum is spanned by
seven bridges. The first of these, the Amira Kadal, or
" bridge for the nobility," is just above the palace. The
last bridge is the " bridge of departure," the Safr Kadal. The
older of these bridges are extremely picturesque. They are
entirely of wood. Immense beams, the trunks of unusually
lofty cedars, are placed across the top of the piers. The latter
are built of massive square trestles of deodar logs arranged in
a square with the ends overlapping. The base of the pier
rests on foundations of stone and piles driven in around.
41
42 BEYOND THE P1R PANJAL
The original method of placing the stones was to fill old boats
with them, and to sink them at the required spot. The
upper end of the pier is cantilevered in such a way as to
diminish the span and the ends of the bridge are fixed down
by alternate courses of stone and wood.
At one time two of the bridges had rows of shops on them,
as some of those over the Mar Nalla still have (Plate 12).
In some places, especially the Mar Canal, there is quite a
reminiscence of Venice (Plate 10).
The palace of H.H. the Maharajah, known as the
Sher Garhi, is an extensive building of a somewhat mixed
style of architecture, but with an imposing fa$ade rising
from the water's edge and a pretty temple with a gilded
roof. The gold and white, the coloured balconies and
painted mouldings blend at a distance to form with the
pale blue river and the light grey of distant mountains,
a harmony of colour such as those which Turner loved
to represent. In the palace there are some handsome
darbar halls with painted ceilings. On the opposite side of
the river is a broad flight of stone steps leading from the
Basant Bagh to the river. From here in olden days a rope
used to stretch to the palace, to which petitions were attached
and hauled up by the palace officials for presentation to the
Maharajah. The present Maharajah, Major-General Sir
Pratab Singh, G.C.S.I., has reigned since 1885. Kashmir
has been fortunate hi having in him a ruler in sympathy with
the needs of his subjects. While naturally conservative
of the traditions and customs of orthodox Hinduism, he has
pushed forward the cause of education, and has openly advo-
cated its extension to females. On many occasions he has
shown himself in favour of an enlightened and progressive
policy (Plate IT). Deepest sympathy has been felt with His
Highness hi the great bereavements which he has sustained :
the loss of his infant son, the heir to the throne, in 1905, and
of his only surviving brother, who died in 1909. The late
Rajah Sir Amar Singh was conimander-in-chief and for some
G
[Clifton fr- Co.
Photo by]
11. H.H. M.\JOR-C;KNKR.\I. SIR PRATAB SINGH, G.C.S.I.,
MAHARAJAH OK JA.MMl AND KASHMIR.
SRINAGAR
43
years Vice-President of the State Council. His position was
not an easy one. But he occupied it with conspicuous
ability, and his early death was a very serious loss to the
Kashmir State. His son, Prince Hari Singh, known as the
Mian Sahib, is now the heir-apparent, and it is greatly hoped
that he will carry on the best traditions of his distinguished
family. The Government of Kashmir is comparatively
simple. His Highness the Maharajah has a State Council
consisting of Ministers for the chief departments Revenue,
Public Works, Home Affairs, Justice, etc. These ministers,
able and distinguished men, have in turn as advisers, with
executive powers, highly trained British officers lent by the
Government of India. Thus there is a Settlement Com-
missioner, an ideal officer, Mr W. S. Talbot, who spends
much of his time in the villages, personally supervising the
work of the settlement ; a Chief Engineer, Superintending
Surgeon, Accountant-General, Conservator of Forests, and so
on. The Governor of Kashmir is representative of H.H. the
Maharajah and has full powers, with control over all matters
relating to the collection of revenue, and he has authority
over all the Tehsildars, the executive heads of the different
Tehsils or districts.
There are few important public buildings in Kashmir.
Above the first bridge, on the left bank, is the State Hospital,
which was erected and ably organized by Dr A. Mitra, now
Public Works Minister on the State Council. This hospital
is excellently equipped and kept in beautiful order, and it
is becoming increasingly useful. The Medical Department
owes much to the administrative and professional capacity of
successive Residency Surgeons, who have acted as Superin-
tending Surgeons to the State Hospital, and among whom
Colonel W. R. Edwards, C.M.G., should be specially men-
tioned. The present Indian Chief Medical Officer is Dr
Mohun Lai. The Court of Justice opposite to the State
Hospital is not an imposing building, and is hardly worthy
of the able Chief Judge who presides there.
44 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
Further down on either side are the houses of the bankers,
shawl merchants, silversmiths, embroiderers, and other mer-
chants. Here may be seen beautiful specimens of Kashmir
art silver worked in delicate patterns of tracery, richly-
carved walnut wood, papier mdch and embroidered goods
of all kinds. The shawl trade, for which Kashmir used to be
specially famous, has, however, to a large extent passed
away. The industry received its death blow in the Franco-
German War in 1870-71, after which the great demand in
France ceased, and it has never really revived.
Its place has to some extent been taken by carpets, and
in this branch, European firms, such as Messrs C. M. Hadow
and W. Mitchell, compete successfully with local manu-
facturers, and put goods of excellent quality on the market.
One of the most successful of recent industrial enter-
prises in Kashmir is the revival of sericulture. It had been
tried for many years and had failed from various causes,
chief among which was the prevalence of diseased eggs.
The industry was reorganized by the late Mr C. B. Walton,
and his skill and experience changed the whole aspect of
affairs and made it a brilliant success. Mr H. D. Douglas
is now the capable director of the State silk factory, the
largest in the world, with Mr M. MacNamara as second in
command and an excellent staff of young Englishmen with
more than 3300 employes. Last year over 260,000 Ibs. of
silk were produced. This is sold as yarn in Europe at an
average of i6s. per Ib. Some silk-weaving has been also
done in the factory, but so far on a very small scale.
Up and down the river, boats are constantly plying.
Many of these are small and, paddled by a crew of
four smart men, they dash along with their one or two
passengers. Occasionally we may see some notable person
in a long boat with a central platform and red canopy
and a numerous and brightly-attired crew, all paddling
in good time a pretty sight and in keeping with the
surroundings. Presently an omnibus-boat passes us laden
1 Resigned 1913.
SR1NAGAR 45
with passengers and deep in the water. Or a large house-
boat, of European pattern, with windows and upper-deck,
comes steadily down-stream, carefully steered by men with
large paddles and long punting poles.
The banks in many places are lined with great barge-like
boats laden with stones, earth, hay, rice and many other
cargoes. Where there is space on the sandy shore, lines of
logs are moored and sawyers are busily at work with their
double hand-saw, one standing on the beam, which is tilted
up at an angle, and the other beneath.
Many of the houses which line the banks are built on
stone foundations, among which are numerous carved frag-
ments from demolished temples. In places, these walls are
pierced by doorways leading to the water's edge. Above
are balconies built out and resting on timber pillars or
brackets. Some have windows of lattice work, beautifully
pieced together. Here and there between the houses are
alleys or lanes which open on to the river. And at such
places there are often broad flights of rough stone steps.
Here the scene is one of animation. At one corner a woman
is seated washing clothes. The article is placed on a smooth
stone and beaten with a short truncheon. The professional
washermen swing the clothes against a stone. But owing
to the splashing of dirty water, this is only permitted at
certain appointed places. Another method is to tread the
clothes in a line of basins hollowed out of a wooden log, the
washermen holding meanwhile on to a railing.
Other women may be seen scouring their brass cooking-
pots or filling large red globular earthen water-pots, and
carrying them off on their heads. Here, too, there is colour,
as the Hindu women often wear bright red, orange, violet and
green pherans.
All around is the din of voices, for Kashmiris cannot work
without making noise. Some, too, are quarrelling. The
boatwomen, if roused, are most quarrelsome and vindictive.
They will hurl abuse and vituperation at each other until
46 BEYOND THE FIR PANJAL
they are absolutely hoarse with screaming. Not unfre-
quently a quarrel is then deliberately adjourned till the next
day. Sometimes one of them ostentatiously inverts a rice
basket. The next day, when it is turned up, the quarrel is
recommenced and soon works up to the utmost pitch of in-
tensity, only dying out as both sides become voiceless.
Close by, a gang of coolies is unshipping a cargo to the
accompaniment of an antiphonal chant. Now, on our left, we
see, standing well back from the water's edge, and approached
by a broad impressive flight of steps, the simple form of a
stately Hindu temple, with its lofty conical roof covered with
silvery plates of shining metal and prolonged into a graceful,
gilded pinnacle (Plate 13).
Further on we pass, on the right bank of the river, one of the
most striking objects in the city, the Shah-i-Hamadan Mosque,
which ranks after Hazrat Bal as the most sacred Moham-
medan building in Kashmir. It is a massive square building,
chiefly of timber, with carved eaves and balconies, tiers of grass
and flower covered roof, and a very graceful central steeple,
open below, and with four gables to it, and the spire carrying
on its point a glittering crescent and golden ball (Plate 14).
Of the mosques, the Shah-i-Hamadan is the most
important. It is the memorial of Mir Sayid Ali of Hama-
dan, who, in the days of the Kashmir Sultans, toward the
end of the fourteenth century, exerted powerful influence hi
Kashmir. Indeed the forcible conversion of Kashmir to
Mohammedanism is ascribed to his efforts, and those of his
follower and successor, Mohammed Khan Hamadani, who
was associated with Sikander the Iconoclast in the great
persecution which almost stamped out the Hindus. And
further down on the right bank is a fine old grey stone
mosque with a domed roof. This was built by the great
Queen, Nur Mahal. It is now partly ruined and wholly
picturesque. For many years it has been used as a granary ;
for the Mohammedans, despising the sex of the foundress,
refuse to worship in it.
SRINAGAR 47
The chief streets in Srinagar run parallel with the river
on both sides. In the daytime they are crowded with a dense
throng of pedestrians. We notice the number of Hindus with
their foreheads and ears painted with red and yellow caste
marks.
Here and there one or two Sikhs may be seen. The ex-
istence of the Sikh religion in Kashmir dates back at least to
the time of the Moghuls. And both in the time of the Pathdn
rulers, and also when Ranjit Singh's force invaded Kashmir,
it is said that the number of Sikhs was augmented. But
the community is still quite small. Pursuing our way in the
bazaar we notice many groups of school children carrying
black wooden boards instead of slates. Most of them are
Hindus.
When the Mussulman propaganda was being ruthlessly
enforced, all the lower castes embraced Islam. So that the
Hindus of Kashmir are almost all Brahmans, and they are
usually called Pandits. Their intellectual superiority over
the rest of the population must be admitted. They are
quick of apprehension and have good memories. One of
their besetting faults is conceit. But some of them are very
superior, trustworthy, honest, clear-headed and industrious.
A large number are officials in State employ. And many
rise to positions of authority and responsibility. Most of the
clerks in Government offices are Pandits. Others are mer-
chants and shopkeepers. But they are not allowed to take
up handicrafts such as carpentry, masonry, shoemaking
and pottery. Neither are they allowed to become boatmen
or porters.
In many respects they are the opposite of the Moham-
medans. As a class, for instance, they are eager for educa-
tion. The Mohammedans are grossly illiterate. And
although there is a general similarity hi dress, there are
marked differences. The Hindu, unlike the Mussulman,
wears a small turban of narrow cloth with the tuck on the
right. He has narrow sleeves and tight trousers, and fastens
48 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
his gown to the left. The Panditani (Hindu woman) affects
garments of bright colours, red and orange being favourites,
but her cap and head-dress are white, and she wears sandals
and not leather shoes. Hindu women often have refined
faces and gentle manners, and they are fairer than the
Mohammedans.
The Hindu women are in the minority in proportion to the
men, the ratio being eight to ten. This may be partly due
to the mortality from smallpox being greater among female
children, who are nursed less carefully. Children are married
at an early age. Many girls become widows before they are
ten years old and they are not allowed to re-marry. Young
Hindu widows are exposed to special dangers to character
and often lead unhappy lives. On the other hand, widowers
may re-marry and often do so. Polygamy, although per-
mitted, is rare perhaps owing to the relatively small number
of women.
The Hindu's whole life, from the hour of his birth till the
day when he dies and his son sets light to his funeral pyre,
is regulated by an elaborate code of religious rites, ceremonies
and customs. These involve daily worship with ablutions
and offerings to idols of flowers and food, frequent fastings,
and the observance of a very large number of holy days.
As we continue to traverse the crowded streets, a line of
laden ponies is driven with shouts and objurgations through
the throng, or a solitary rider with many cries of " hosh hosh "
makes his way along. But there is hardly any wheeled
traffic.
Of the city population more than a half are provision
sellers or artificers. This includes some 25,000 engaged in
the wool industry. The most important trades are grain
dealers, vegetable and fruit sellers, dairymen, butchers,
workers in metal and shoemakers. On either side of the
road there is a deep gutter. Five feet above this are the
open shop windows with stalls and shelves, one above
another, laden with articles of commerce piles of cotton
SRINAGAR 49
cloth, bottles of ghee, blocks of rock-salt, baskets of grain,
maize, rice, lentils, flour, walnuts and sacks of turmeric.
Here is a row of stalls with brass pots and pans and cooking-
vessels; a little further on the deafening clang assails the
ear of a copper-worker's shop, where large saucepans and
boilers of all sorts are being hammered into shape. In other
shops there are heaps of red earthenware pottery, rows of
native shoes, saddlery, embroidery, large iron pans full of
boiling syrup and piles of round slabs of sugar. Then we
pass a line of bakers' shops with rows of wheaten and maize
cakes and large flat chapattis like the unleavened bread of
the Jews, and it is wonderful how like in appearance to Jews
many of the people are. There is a curious legend, invented
by the founder of the heretical Mohammedan Quadiani sect, to
the effect that an ancient grave in Kashmir, of a saint named
Yuz-asaf , who died hi the fifteenth century, is really the grave
of Christ, who did not die on the cross, but escaped from the
Holy Land to Kashmir. This legend is not, however, ac-
cepted by the Kashmiri Mussulmans.
As we walk through the city we pass several shrines of
this kind with a surrounding enclosure and latticed windows.
Right and left open filthy lanes and alleys, leading to court-
yards and dark little staircases. Most of the houses are two-
storied, but some are higher. The upper stories have latticed
windows. In the winter paper is pasted over. There are
comparatively few glass windows.
The population of a large and insanitary city like this,
with the houses huddled together, suffers greatly from dis-
ease and poverty. The clan and family system, in some
respects so admirable in the East, to a considerable extent
obviates actual want except in times of great scarcity. But
disease is rampant. The local hakfms, although some of
them skilled in the empirical use of certain drugs and simples
handed down by tradition, have no knowledge of anatomy
or physiology. And in their use of drastic purgatives, vene-
section and absolute starvation, their practice approximates
50 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
to that of the worst period of the Middle Ages in Europe.
Those who succumb most readily are the young and the
aged. I have frequently been called in to see patients quite
healthy a few days before, but attacked by some compara-
tively simple ailment, who, by the reckless treatment of
native practitioners, have been rapidly brought to death's
door, and in many cases have actually died.
Of native surgery there is little in Kashmir. The barbers
are fortunately not enterprising. When they do interfere,
the chief effect is usually to produce unskilled wounds and
inoculate them with the germs of putrefaction or even dis-
ease. The worst phase of both the medical and surgical
indigenous practice is the fatal delay imposed, by which so
many cases of curable disease drift into hopeless stages
before they resort to better trained practitioners. Hardly a
week passes without cases of this kind being brought to us.
The veil over the moral condition of such a city as
Srinagar cannot be lifted. Suffice it to say that in many
respects it is like that of Rome in its worst periods.
Among this mass of evil, misery and disease, quiet steady
efforts have been put forth for some years by all too small a
number of workers connected with the Church Missionary and
Church of England Zenana Missionary Societies. The Rev.
J. Hinton Knowles devoted the best years of his life to un-
remitting efforts on behalf of the Kashmir people. Miss
Butler, a lady doctor, Miss Irene Petrie and Miss Robinson, a
trained nurse, laid down their lives in Kashmir for the same
cause. The late Revs. J. S. Doxey and C. E. Barton also
rendered valuable service. For many years Miss E. G.
Hull worked among the women, until, to our great regret and
with serious loss to Kashmir, she was compelled by failing
health to retire in 1909. Schools for girls have been carried
on by Miss Churchill Taylor, Miss Stubbs and Miss Goodall.
And for many years much nursing and medical relief have
been given by Miss Newman. Since 1905 Miss Kate Knowles,
M.B., London, has been ably carrying on and successfully
SRINAGAR 51
developing medical work on behalf of the women of the city.
Two other agencies, which for many years have been engaged
in grappling with the moral and physical evils of Kashmir,
are the Medical Mission and the Schools of the Church
Missionary Society. The work of these may, however, be
more fully considered in detail.
CHAPTER V
THE KASHMIR MISSION SCHOOL
In All Things be Men An Original Method of Marking Practical
Philanthropy The Goddess Kdli and the Hooligans A Crocodile
Scare Head of the River An Unwilling Passenger Visitation of
Cholera Knight- Errants Education in India, its Needs and Defects.
Make knowledge circle with the winds,
But let her herald, reverence, fly
Before her to whatever sky
Bear seed of men and growth of minds !
TENNYSON.
MANY of the chief objects of interest in Srinagar are sug-
gestive of a certain greatness, glory and activity in the remote
past. It is interesting to turn from these to a centre which
is full of life at the present time and of hope for the future.
More than fifty years ago, under circumstances of some diffi-
culty, educational work was started by the late Dr Elmslie,
the first medical missonary in Kashmir. But it was not
until the time of the Rev. J. Hinton Knowles in 1884 that
distinct progress was evident. The work thus fairly started
was taken up by the Rev. C. E. Tyndale-Biscoe, who was
joined in 1905 by an Oxford Honours man, the Rev. F. E.
Lucey. The Mission School with its numerous branches is
now a remarkable source of well-directed energy.
The central school is in a large house abutting on the
river immediately above the third bridge. There is a fairly
spacious playground attached, but the building is inadequate
for the large number of scholars who attend. The work is
carried on in an absolutely original manner. In the Srinagar
Mission School there are altogether about 1500 scholars.
The character of the Kashmiri boy is not good. He is often
studious, but is usually untruthful, conceited, superstitious,
5*
THE KASHMIR MISSION SCHOOL 53
cowardly, selfish and extremely dirty. The motto of this
school is " In all things be men." "The crest is a pair of
paddles crossed. The paddles represent hard work or
strength, the blade of the paddles being in the shape of a
heart reminds them of kindness (the true man is a combina-
tion of strength and kindness). The crossed paddles repre-
sent self-sacrifice, reminding them from Whom we get the
greatest example and from Whom we learn to be true men."
All over the city, boys may be met who wear this badge
and they may be appealed to by any one in difficulty, distress
or danger, as they have been taught to be ready to render
service at all times to those who are in need.
The object of the principal of the school, the Rev. Cecil
Tyndale-Biscoe, is to train all his boys and not only those who
are clever or strong. In a little book entitled Training in Kash-
mir, he explains his methods. " We give fewer marks to mind
than body because Kashmiri boys prefer their books to their
bodily exercise. Marks in sports are not given necessarily to
the best cricketer or swimmer but to the boy who tries most.
If we always reward the strong, as is the custom of the world,
we discourage the weak and often they give up trying. The
energy of the staff is not concentrated on turning out a great
cricket eleven, or great anything, for all those boys who are
good at any particular sport are naturally keen and do not
need spurring on ; where the stress comes, is hi the case of the
weak, feeble, timid boys; it is they who require attention; it
is they who specially need physical training and careful
watching. Of course this system does not make a brave
show, for the strength is given to the bulk and not to make
brilliancy more brilliant. We are working for the future,
the race of life, and must therefore fit all the boys for it, not
a few special ones in order to make a show. Then again
sports are not entered into for sport's sake, but for the results.
Boys should have strong bodies so that they may help others
who have weak ones. Again boys are not rewarded by prizes
for sports, as we feel that true sport in the West is being
54 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
killed by * pot-hunting.' We pit one school against another,
giving marks to the school and not to the boys, and the
school that wins the greatest number of marks in regattas
and sports wins the challenge cup. In this way we hope to
take the selfishness out of games and create a true desire for
honour for the school and community, as opposed to the
individual."
The method of marking adopted in this school gives an
idea of the thoroughness of the education, and will show the
immense value of such an institution, both from a moral and
political standpoint. One-third of the possible marks is
allotted for moral proficiency, one-third for physical, and the
remaining third for scholarship. The advantages of this are
not only that every boy has a chance, but above all that the
boys are trained to regard conduct and good citizenship as
at least as important as book learning, and that sound bodies
are as necessary as sound minds. With regard to conduct,
it is not passive good behaviour that gains marks, but actual
deeds of kindness. The activities of the Mission School are
very varied. A large fire breaks out in the city and spreads
with the utmost rapidity among the wooden houses, 3000 of
which are burnt. The school work is stopped for the day
and the principal and boys take along their fire-engine and
fight the flames, sometimes at risk to their own lives,
saving those of women and children in danger. The pro-
tection of women from insult, kindness to old people and
invalids, the rescue of those in peril of drowning, and pre-
vention of cruelty to animals, are some of the works of
ministry, which the boys are encouraged to undertake.
Although Brahmans may not touch a donkey, they may
drive it or lead it with a rope. And one winter hospitality
was shown by the Mission School to over a hundred starving
donkeys, some of which would certainly have otherwise
perished in the streets, where they are sent by their owners
to pick up food as best they can.
Physical training includes gymnastics, drill, boating,
THE KASHMIR MISSION SCHOOL .55
swimming, football and cricket, and the aim is to make
the boys healthy and strong, promote esprit de corps,
discipline, reverence for authority and a due sense of
obedience and subordination. In scholarship there is an
ordinary curriculum, including daily Bible lessons. Many
of the boys are very young and their instruction elementary.
Of the seniors not a few have successfully passed the matri-
culation examination of the Punjab University. In con-
nection with the school there is a sanitary corps, which,
armed with pick and shovel, will often give an object lesson
to the people of Srinagar by visiting some specially dirty
court or lane and showing the inhabitants what is required to
keep it clean. Sometimes, too, at the hospital a group of
Mission School boys arrives to take out convalescents for an
airing on the lake, where they provide tea at their own
expense and bring them safely back in the evening.
A site for a dispensary is granted by H.H. the Maha-
rajah to Miss Newman, who is doing such good work among
the women of Kashmir. The site is on top of a hill, and
quarter of a mile away down below, a great heap of stones is
. dumped by the side of the lake. The principal proposes
that the schoolboys should make these stones walk up-hill.
So one evening nearly four hundred of the boys, with many
masters, line out from the lake to the hill-top and hand on the
stones just like, at city fires, they have often passed on buckets.
That Brahman teachers and boys should do hard work of
this kind provoked much opposition. Some jeered, others
indulged in chaff, and a few cursed the willing labourers and
said they were bringing dishonour on their caste. But the
idea took root; old boys of the school came and joined in,
and on the second day there were other recruits, and the
opposition died away.
In Eastern cities there are often bands-of hooligans who
terrorize the people, insult women and molest small boys.
The police are often for various reasons unable or unwilling
to deal with these pestilent gangs. With the help of the
56 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
school organization, some of these rascals have been from time
to time brought to justice. The following is a characteristic
incident. " Some Punjabis, probably soldiers, had come to a
fair for no good intention, and soon were at their game,
molesting some Hindu women, who had come to worship;
but no one in the crowd came forward to protect these women.
Fortunately, however, some Mission Schoolboys arrived on the
scene, and they at once fell upon these hooligans and smote
them hip and thigh. And when the crowd perceived which
way the battle was going, it joined very wisely the winning
side. As this little affair happened at the shrine of the god-
dess of murder, I asked the staff and boys which side the
goddess took in the fight? This question was rather a poser,
for some said that the goddess was on the side of those who
attacked the women, and others maintained that she sided
with the schoolboys. Opinions were divided on this im-
portant subject until a Solomon solved the difficulty by
explaining that as Kali was the goddess of murder and
blood, she would naturally side with the party which
shed the most blood, and that honour certainly fell to the
Mission School boys. This decision pleased and comforted
us all."
In the summer every boy has to bathe daily with his class.
Those who cannot swim are placed under the care of swimmers
until they themselves learn. Sometimes there are as many
as 300 boys in the water at once. At the end of the term
there is usually a long swim. About seventy boys take part
hi this. They are accompanied by a fleet of boats, in case
there should be need of rescuing. The ordinary long-
distance swim is three or four miles across the Dal Lake.
Some of the boys become such strong swimmers that they
can do eight or nine miles. One of the practical results of
this swimming is the saving of life. In one year alone
eight lives were saved, and in two cases at great risk to the
rescuer. A medal is awarded in the school for especially
meritorious cases of this kind (Plate 15).
15. SCHOOL SPORTS. A SPLASH DASH.
THE KASHMIR MISSION SCHOOL 57
The following account, taken from a local paper, gives an
illustration of the way in which the school influence is
brought to bear on superstition:
" Any one who visits the city of Srinagar in Kashmir in
the summer-time and travels down the river between 6 and
8 a.m. will see hundreds of the Hindu inhabitants disporting
themselves in the river, the older ones standing or squatting
in shallow water at the ghats, combining their washing and
devotions, and the younger ones enjoying short swims.
But one day in July this pleasant state of things ended, for
it was reported that a crocodile had visited Srinagar and had
taken a fancy for bathers ; so from that day till the end of
August swimming and the like was stopped. Every one
said they knew of people having been bitten, and many had
seen the monster, which, of course, grew more terrible as time
went on.
" When the Mission School boys reassembled after the
summer vacation they took the matter in hand. A hundred
of them started to swim the whole length of the city from the
first to the seventh bridge, a distance of 3 miles, and defy
the monster. Their daring was watched by thousands of
inhabitants from the banks, bridges and houses, making a
brave show. Thirty-three swimmers reached the last bridge
and others found the water too cold and left the water at the
school half-way. The result of the swim has been that the
inhabitants have come to the conclusion that the crocodile
has left Srinagar, and they are now enjoying their morning
bathe once more."
The principal of the school, who was " Cox " to a winning
Cambridge boating crew in 1885, has kept up his aquatic
interests, and every year the crew of the branch and central
Mission Schools have a keen competition for " head of the
river."
All this work has not been achieved without an up-hill
struggle. At one time the State authorities tried to put a
stop to it. But the greatest of all difficulties was the influ-
5 8 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
ence of caste and the temperament of the Kashmiri. To
play with cricket or footballs, which are covered with leather,
and to paddle or row a boat were considered absolutely
against caste principles. To go out after dark was considered
risky because evil spirits are supposed to patrol the streets at
that time. The boys were naturally studious but disin-
clined for athletics, and they were much given to tale-telling.
The prime object of education was supposed to be to fit them
to earn money for themselves and theit families; for early
marriage is the custom of the East, and many boys are already
married. The great task to which Mr Tyndale-Biscoe ad-
dressed himself, was to teach the boys manliness, loyalty,
charity, manners, cleanliness, truth and Christian doctrine.
Speaking of those early days the principal of the school says :
" I knew it would be a long fight but had no idea it would be
such a hard one. Now it was not until the sixth year of our
commencing backbone and knuckle work that the first
Kashmiri boat propelled by Kashmiri paddles in the hands
of fifteen Brahmans splashed down the Jhelum, not in a
secluded quiet spot in the lake, but right down the city of
Srinagar itself, under bridges crowded with jeering towns-
men; however, in order that they might not altogether and
entirely dishonour their own families, each boy covered his
head with a blanket, with the exception of the steersman,
so that their individual identity might not be known.
" This crew came not from the High School. The honour
of being the first school to brave public opinion fell to the
Renawari Branch School, under the plucky leadership of
Amar Chand Brahman, who has since those days shown much
pluck and grit; but perhaps this first effort to break away
from the shackles of idiotic custom, cost him most of all.
Now that the ball had been set rolling, or rather that the first
crew had been set paddling, it was not long before other
school Kashmiri boats called ' shikaras ' were launched,
until a fleet gradually came into existence, which now
numbers ten boats, holding roughly 120 boys. The Rena-
THE KASHMIR MISSION SCHOOL 59
wari School crew in the yearly race for headship of the river
held the position for six years in succession."
In 1891, when Lord Lansdowne, who was then Viceroy of
India, was in Kashmir, he witnessed one of these exciting
contests, and expressed a hope that the State and Mission
Schools would ere long be competing in friendly contest for
the headship of the Jhelum, as Oxford and Cambridge
Universities strive yearly for the headship of the Thames.
Eighteen years passed, and at last the Viceroy's hope was
fulfilled. On 20th September 1909, a race took place be-
tween the Mission, State, Hindoo and Islamic schools over a
two-mile course. The Mission School crew won by thirty
lengths. It is hoped that this will prove the first of a long
series of annual races, in which case it must be regarded as
an historic and interesting sign of the development of
physical culture in Kashmir (Plate 16).
These aquatic sports are not without their amusing in-
cidents. " It was the summer of a great cholera epidemic,
and the citizens were by no means in a jovial frame of mind;
in fact their minds dwelt chiefly on the three stages of
cholera and burning ghats. We thought a change of ideas
might be good for them, so we brought our fleet from the
lake to the city, and had boat races in the afternoons, over
which we made a good deal of noise, so that both boys and
onlookers forgot about corpses and pyres, and enjoyed an
hour or so of fun and laughter instead. These races inci-
dentally proved that we did not take a gloomy view of things
in general or of cholera in particular. Now, as several were
racing down-stream abreast, in their excitement the boys
had not noticed an omnibus or passenger boat coming up-
stream, and before they were aware of this danger, one of
the boats was steered straight into the omnibus, picked off
an old woman who was sitting in the boat and carried her
off down-stream, like a figure-head, at the end of the prow.
Our hearts were in our mouths in a moment and a dead silence
followed, for all feared that the old lady had become a
60 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
fixture to the prow of the boat, as the Kashmir boats have
a very sharp nose tipped with iron. In a few moments,
however, the racing boat was stopped with the aid of fifteen
paddles hard astern, and the old lady was once more deposited
in her former boat in a moister condition than when she left
it ; and almost before we had time to ask questions, the dear
dishevelled, dripping old lady clenched her fist and gave
tongue at the boys in her Kashmiri best, which would have
put even Billingsgate hawkers to shame. Our pent-up feel-
ings simply went flop. We all to a man rose to our feet and
gave the loud-lunged lady three ringing cheers, and the
louder we cheered the more she cursed, until distance pre-
vented our hearing the remainder of her vocabulary. We
have never carried off a damsel from a passing boat since that
day, as our coxens have learnt that when they wish to have
ladies aboard, it is wiser to ' easy ' first, then hand them in
without unseemly haste."
Some years ago a fleet of four boats started down the
river to the Wular Lake. They had very dirty weather from
start to finish. Crossing the lake, a mast was smashed
and the mainsail blown away. Later on the breeze worked
up into a gale. It was necessary to cross 7 miles of lake
to reach their camp. The boatmen on the shore implored
them not to go, saying that it was impossible to cross in
such weather. After a very rough time, in which the boys
showed much pluck, they reached their camp in the dark.
Next morning one of their broken oars was washed ashore at
Bandipoora, and a clerk telegraphed up to the city that all
the crew must have perished. This caused quite a sensation
in Srinagar. When, some days later, the fleet returned, the
bridges and banks were crowded with spectators, who cheered
the boys as they rowed past.
Srinagar is liable to constantly recurring floods. These
usually occur in the summer, if there is continuous rain,
when the snow is still abundant on the mountains around.
When the river is very high, if an embankment should burst
THE KASHMIR MISSION SCHOOL 61
or be topped, a district which was dry in the morning may a
few hours later be a lake, with the houses, which are built of
sun-dried bricks, falling down in all directions. On one
occasion over 2000 houses fell hi or around the city. On
these occasions the Mission School boats are able to do
yeoman service, rescuing families which are stranded on
the roofs of rickety houses or small patches of dry ground.
That a Mark Tapley-like spirit is inculcated in the
Mission School would appear from the following incident.
" There is fortunately a bright side to everything in this
life, even if it is the darkest of clouds; and cholera is no
exception to the rule. We cheer ourselves and the boys
with the thought that there will be many opportunities for
playing the man, and what more inspiring incentive can one
have than this?
" On one occasion some time ago, when we had a very
severe epidemic of cholera, we put this side of the picture
so forcibly before the boys, that the whole school stood up
and gave three hearty cheers for the cholera. I am afraid
that a certain number of those who cheered were never
given another opportunity of cheering a second visitation,
for the school gave its quota to that fell disease, though the
staff tried hard to save their boys, adding nursing to their
other duties. One of the masters was attacked, and when,
late one evening, on his rounds, Mr Tyndale-Biscoe visited
him, he found some of the other masters, with their coats
off, doing their best by massage to relieve the terrible pain
of cramp from which he was suffering, and they had arranged
to take turns, two hours at a time, in watching him all night.
Mr Tyndale-Biscoe says : "I had just given him a teaspoon-
ful of brandy, when the man who was holding his head said
to me in a whisper, ' Please, Sahib, leave the room.' Think-
ing that it was on account of Hindu women present, I did
so. Early next morning the man came to tell me that the
teacher was dead. I asked the time of his death; he
answered : ' Directly you put the brandy in his mouth, but
62 BEYOND THE P1R PANJAL
I did not tell any one of the relations for fear that they
would say that you had killed him; also on account of the
women, for women bear bad news better in the morning
than at night, and we massaged his limbs so that those in
the room might not know that he was dead till the sun
arose.'
" There were these teachers massaging a cholera corpse
all night, and they knew well the risk they ran of infection,
but they stuck to it in order to save me and lessen the shock
for the women relations."
Various societies are worked by the masters and boys.
For the former, there is a Provident Fund to which all have
to pay five per cent, of their salaries and the object of which
is to make provision for old age and sickness and provide
for their widows should they die. Another useful organiza-
tion is the " waif and stray " society, to which all masters
and boys subscribe and thereby pay for the schooling of
fifty poor boys, and feed and clothe those who need it. At
a recent meeting in connection with this society the case
was reported of a master who had recently died of consump-
tion, leaving his family very badly off. The principal asked
those present what they proposed doing. The secretary
stood up and said : " We must support this family our-
selves. I myself will be responsible for so much, and I am
sure all you present " (looking round upon his brother
masters) " will do the same." The motion was carried
nem. con.
The Knight-Errant Society has as its object the raising
of the status of women in Kashmir. Many of the young
Hindus are now really anxious to abolish evil customs.
The Knights pledge themselves to do all in their power to
prevent girls being married under the age of fourteen.
It is often extremely difficult to ascertain the truth in
the case of criminal charges and counter-charges which are
so common in the East. To assist in such matters, a court-
martial has been constituted in the Mission School, which
THE KASHMIR MISSION SCHOOL 63
not only deals with cases of this kind brought by or against
masters and boys, but it also takes cognizance of offences
committed by former scholars who have misbehaved in
the public offices or the city.
Throughout the whole of the remarkable organization
of this unique school, the guiding principle is to lead the way,
to show the masters and boys that the great aim of Chris-
tianity and the great call of the Christian Church is to Service.
Scripture teaching is given day by day in the classes, but
this is only the beginning of the education. The next and
by far the more important part is to put the teaching into
practice.
Mr Tyndale-Biscoe is no doubt fortunate in the scope
which he has in Kashmir for carrying out education on
such original lines. And the praiseworthy tolerance of the
Kashmir State authorities is a remarkable sign of enlighten-
ment. The Maharajah of Kashmir has subscribed to the
schools and often spoken words of cheer to the boys, and
recently His Highness granted an excellent site for a Hostel.
Although there must be much in the school methods which
must be trying and even irritating to old-fashioned and
orthodox Hindus, still the influence for good has been so
obvious that it has been accepted with gratitude by the
Hindu authorities of the Kashmir State and recognized to
be of the utmost value to the moral evolution of Kashmir.
Mr Tyndale-Biscoe's school is of course unique, and his
methods most original; but it is cheering to remember that
hundreds of mission schools and colleges throughout India
are carrying on work hi the same spirit of practical Chris-
tianity, and training boys and young men to be good and loyal
citizens and mindful of the needs of others. It is amazing
to find what a very large number of Indian gentlemen,
occupying positions of authority and influerice, received
their education in mission schools.
As the boys pass out of the schools and occupy various
posts of importance, it is easy to see that this work has a
64 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
very wide reach. Only those who have studied the subject
realize the extent to which, throughout India, mission schools
have trained those who are now wielding power both in
Native States like Kashmir and in the British Provinces.
Unfortunately Mohammedans have been less influenced
by education than the Hindus. The Islamic brotherhood
is very conservative in matters of education, and in Kashmir
it forms more than ninety per cent, of the population.
Of the awakening of India there are now many signs.
Especially during the last quarter of a century have the
solvent influences of the West been obviously permeating
the whole fabric of Indian society; and now in India we
have a changed outlook and a unique condition of affairs.
Various nations, whose chief bonds of union are religious,
and whose own systems are extremely rigid and intensely
conservative and unprogressive, and who, in the Native
States, are accustomed to a rule far more despotic than that
of the British Government, are now beginning to show signs
of fermentation. The new wine of the West has been
poured into old bottles, and the bottles are in danger of
bursting. New political ideas have infiltrated the educated
classes, and visions of Home Rule to be obtained by political
agitation, in which boycott and bombs are also to be weapons,
are leading to what may be a great upheaval.
The greatest factor in bringing about this portentous
change has been education. Throughout the length and
breadth of the land, schools and colleges have been at work.
The Government of India has had magnificent opportunities
for educating the people of India. The seed which it has
sown has produced the harvest which is now ripening a
mixed harvest of good and bad. Most excellent work has
been done. Schools and colleges and institutions for tech-
nical training have been multiplied throughout the land.
In the universities a high standard has been aimed at, and
in some of the faculties the examinations are said to be
actually more difficult than those in the corresponding sub-
THE KASHMIR MISSION SCHOOL 65
jects in British Universities. And yet the education has
admittedly been a failure in one direction, and that the most
important of aH. It has been purely secular and far too
Western. Indian students have been set to study Stuart
Mill, Herbert Spencer and Huxley. But
" Knowledge is a barren tree and bare,
Bereft of God."
A structure of modern political economy and science has
been reared upon a foundation which is unsound and cannot
bear the strain. Moral instruction has, until quite recently,
been absolutely ignored. In accordance with its principles of
religious neutrality,the Indian Government has been unable to
give any religious training in Government schools; and so the
greatest motive for upright conduct, the belief in a living and
righteous God, has been withheld, and from our Government
schools and colleges have come, in their tens of thousands, boys
and young men, clever and well-educated on the intellectual
side, but with the moral side undeveloped young men, Wes-
tern to a considerable extent in intellectual attainment and
political aim, and Eastern in moral character and home life.
But are not the Eastern people very religious? Yes, but the
word religious has a different significance in the East and West.
In the East a man may be regarded as most religious and
holy whose life is untrue and unclean. Indeed such a man
may even be the revered religious teacher of thousands, who
in no way regard his impure life as any barrier to sanctity.
The extent to which missionary enterprise has stepped
in to save the situation is not realized in the United King-
dom. But still, compared with the immense population,
far too little has been done, and Government schools are in
the great majority. At first the Missionary Societies looked
askance at the development of educational work, which
they regarded as secular and unproductive of converts.
Gradually a change has occurred, and we now find most of
them actively engaged in this work. Their efforts, too, have
been appreciated even by orthodox Hindus, who openly say
66 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
that they prefer Mission Schools because of the moral train-
ing given. Most of the large towns of India have important
Mission Schools or Colleges, as, for instance, the educational
work of the Church Missionary Society in Bombay, Calcutta,
Agra, Allahabad and Peshawar, and the splendid work of
the Cambridge Mission at Delhi, of the S.P.G. at Cawnpore,
of the Oxford Mission at Calcutta and of American Mission-
ary Societies in Lahore and Bombay. The Scottish Presby-
terian Missions have also done yeoman service in education
in India, and the names of Dr Duff and Dr Miller are well
known.
Dr Duff predicted nearly three-quarters of a century
ago, with remarkable accuracy, the present state of affairs.
He said:
" If in that land you do give the people knowledge with-
out religion, rest assured that it is the greatest blunder,
politically speaking, that ever was committed. Having
free unrestricted access to the whole range of our English-
speaking literature and science, they will despise and reject
their own absurd system of learning. Once driven out of
their own systems, they will inevitably become infidels in
religion. And shaken out of the mechanical round of their
own religious observances, without moral principles to
balance their thoughts or guide their movements, they will
as certainly become discontented, restless agitators, ambi-
tious of power and official distinction and possessed of the
most disloyal sentiments towards that Government which,
hi their eye, has usurped all the authority that rightly be-
longed to themselves. This is not theory, it is fact."
A scheme has been recently put forward, which, if it
could be put into general practice, would do much to remove
the reproach at present resting upon the Government of
India. The ideal scheme for giving religious and moral
training without compromising the neutrality of Govern-
ment is that residential colleges should be established. The
boys are to live in hostels, each of which will be a private
THE KASHMIR MISSION SCHOOL 67
institution and have its own religious instruction. Some
of the hostels will be Christian, some Mohammedan, and
some Hindu. The college itself will be a Government In-
stitution and in it religion will not be taught. Whether
this or some similar scheme is introduced, there is a wide-
spread feeling, that so far education in India has been con-
spicuously defective on the moral side. This was em-
phasized in the answers returned by several Indian Ruling
Chiefs to a communication addressed to them by the Viceroy
on the subject of the prevailing unrest in India. The Maha-
rajah of Kashmir expressed a strong opinion as to the import-
ance of proper education not only for boys but for girls too.
In this work, both in the Plains of India and in Kashmir,
Mission Schools have been pioneers.
CHAPTER VI
THE KASHMIR MEDICAL MISSION
Early Days Robert Clark A Threatening Mob The First Con-
vert DrElmslie Opposition Development and Progress Famine Re-
liefThe Great Earthquake Fighting Cholera, Smallpox and Plague.
There lies no desert in the land of life ;
For e'en that tract that barrenest doth seem,
Laboured of thee in faith and hope shall teem
With heavenly harvests and rich gatherings rife.
FRANCES KEMBLE.
THE founder of the Kashmir Mission was the Rev. Robert
Clark. In 1854 Colonel Martin, an officer who had just
retired from his command at Peshawar, proposed to Mr
Clark a missionary tour in Kashmir, Ladakh and Skardo.
They were accompanied by three Indian Christians. Gulab
Singh, the Maharajah of Kashmir, accorded them a friendly
reception. But he was rather cynical. " My subjects in
Kashmir," he said, " are very bad. I am sure that no one
can do them any harm. I am rather curious to see whether
the padri sahibs can do them any good."
On his return from this tour Mr Clark powerfully repre-
sented the needs of Kashmir. He received much support
from a group of leading civilians and military men, including
Sir Robert Montgomery, then Lieutenant-Governor of the
Punjab. " A requisition, influentially supported, was im-
mediately sent to the Church Missionary Society, urging it
to promote a Mission in the mountain kingdom, and the
Lieutenant-Governor was the first to sign the invitation.
His donation of a thousand rupees, in aid of the proposed
Mission, was the nucleus of a fund that the generous libe-
68
THE KASHMIR MEDICAL MISSION 69
rality of friends rapidly augmented to over fourteen thousand
rupees." l This invitation was accepted by the C.M.S., and
Mr Smith of Benares was appointed and joined Mr Clark
in Kashmir in 1863 ; but it was not until the following year
that the work was fairly started.
The first attempt to carry on systematic Medical Mission
work in Kashmir met with much opposition. Some of the
officials, especially the governor and the head of the police,
were most antagonistic, and permitted, if they did not actu-
ally organize, mob violence. The Rev. R. Clark made the
following entry in his diary written in 1864 : " The house
was literally besieged with men and noisy boys. They
stood by hundreds on the bridge, and lined the river on both
sides, shouting, and one man striking a gong, to collect the
people. Not a chuprasse, or police officer, or soldier, or
official of any kind appeared. The tumult quickly increased,
and no efforts were made to stop it. The people began to
throw stones and some of them broke down the wall of
the compound and stables. Our servants became greatly
alarmed, for they threatened to burn the house down. The
number present was between one thousand and one thousand
five hundred. When I went to the Wazir to ask for protec-
tion, it was said that he was asleep. He kept me waiting
for two hours and then did not even give me a chair. He
promised to send a guard and never did so. The police
also announced that if any one rented a house to the mission-
aries, all the skin would be taken off their backs."
On 20th April Mr Clark writes in his journal: "Men
are again stationed on the bridge, as they were for weeks
together last year, to prevent any one from coming to us.
Our servants cannot buy the mere necessaries of life and we
have to send strangers to the other end of the city to purchase
flour."
The house which Mr and Mrs Clark occupied was near
the sixth bridge. Mrs Clark started a dispensary for women
'Martyn Clark, Robert Clark of the Punjab.
70 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
almost in the exact place where the Diamond Jubilee Hos-
pital, so ably conducted by Miss Lauder, is now situated.
Sometimes in one day as many as one hundred women came
to Mrs Clark for medical treatment.
Official antagonism, however, continued. The names
of those who visited Mr Clark were reported. A Punjabi
officer in the State artillery was told that unless he removed
his two boys from instruction by Mr Clark he would be
cashiered " and made to beg his bread from door to door."
Of Husn Shah, the first Kashmiri convert to be baptized,
Mr Clark writes : " He has been with us now nearly a year,
has been imprisoned continually, and had logs of wood tied
to his feet; has been beaten, threatened and promised all
sorts of things by the Wazir himself, if he would leave us.
Never has he been left in peace. Day after day has he been
tried and tempted by mother and friends, and coaxed and
punished by those in authority, but apparently in vain; for
he has hitherto resisted or endured all." A trumped-up
charge of debt was brought against him. First twenty-five
rupees was claimed, then fifty. When security was offered
for this amount the claim was suddenly raised to seven
hundred rupees.
Opposition continued till the end of the season, when Mr
Clark left Srinagar for the Punjab on 2nd November.
Almost the last thing he witnessed as he was dropping down
the river in a house-boat, was the arrest of a young man,
who had been under Christian instruction. " He was
carried ^away," Mr Clark writes, " before my very face to
answer before the Wazir, and to suffer imprisonment, for
wishing to be a Christian and visiting the missionary. No
other crime was ever spoken of."
Dr Elmslie, who was the first Medical Missionary ap-
pointed by the C.M.S., arrived in Kashmir the following
year, 1865. At that time no European was allowed to
remain in the valley for the winter. During the summer,
about 2000 patients came to Dr Elmslie. But his experi-
THE KASHMIR MEDICAL MISSION 71
ences were similar to those of Mr Clark. And when he left
Kashmir at the close of the season, the Governor of Kashmir
told the owner of the house which Dr Elmslie had occupied,
that he was on no account to let it again to the doctor the
following year.
In 1866, unable to obtain adequate accommodation,
Dr Elmslie pitched the outer covering of a large tent for
the use of his out-patients, and the inner part of the
same tent was all the accommodation for in-patients
which he could provide. During that season he had, how-
ever, 3365 patients.
For three years Dr Elmslie revisited the valley of Kash-
mir each summer, and by his kindness and skill continued
to gain the confidence of the people, in spite of the op-
position of the local authorities, and the fact that the
avenues leading to his house were closely watched by sepoys,
who intimidated the sick people and exacted money from
them.
A widespread cholera epidemic in 1867, while diminish-
ing the number of ordinary patients, gave the Medical
Mission the opportunity of helping the cholera-stricken.
When Dr Elmslie laid down his work in 1869, he had
achieved much. The opposition of the State authorities
had been, to a considerable extent, overcome ; the confidence
of the Kashmiris had been won, and an immense amount of
relief had been afforded to sufferers. Four Kashmiris had
become Christians. One of these for many years continued
to render faithful service in Kashmir as a Christian teacher.
As an indirect result of the work of the Medical Mission, the
first Kashmir State Dispensary had been started. And this
was the forerunner of the present extensive State Medical
Service.
In 1870 the Rev. W. T. Storrs, a qualified medical man,
carried on the work during Dr Elmslie's absence on furlough.
In 1872 Dr Elmslie returned and worked with untiring
assiduity at Srinagar, where cholera was again raging. His
72 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
death took place in the autumn of that year at Gujrat, on
his way from Kashmir to the Punjab.
Dr Theodore Maxwell, who was Elmslie's successor, was
fortunate in meeting with a very friendly reception from the
Maharajah Ranbir Singh, who, hearing that Maxwell was a
nephew of General John Nicholson of Delhi fame, promised
to grant good house accommodation.
The work was reopened in 1874 under favourable con-
ditions. Official opposition was withdrawn. The State
medical officer was friendly. The Maharajah granted a site
for a hospital, and at State expense a small building was
erected on the north side of the Rustum Gaddi Hill.
After two years of most successful work, Dr Maxwell's
health broke down, and he was compelled to leave India.
A well-known Indian Christian doctor, John Williams, for
many years most honourably associated with the little
frontier town of Tank, came to the rescue, and with the help
of the Rev. T. R. Wade, whose valued services to the Kashmir
Medical Mission can hardly be over-estimated, he carried on
the work so vigorously that there was no falling off in the
number of patients.
In 1877 Dr Edmund Downes, who had resigned a commis-
sion in the Royal Artillery in order to engage in Medical
Mission work, arrived in Kashmir. For six years he carried
on the work steadily and bravely in spite of ill-health and
inadequate assistance. Owing to his skill and surgical
enterprise, the reputation of the hospital continued to rise
and the number of patients consequently to increase. From
1877-1879 Kashmir was visited by an appalling famine. In
some parts of the valley, including Srinagar, it is said that
the population was reduced by more than a half. Heavy
rain fell in the autumn, before the crops were gathered in.
The rice and maize which are the staple foods rotted. During
the whiter, rain continued. The cattle died from want of
food. The spring harvest failed owing to bad weather. The
authorities made a fatal mistake and ordered a house-to-
THE KASHMIR MEDICAL MISSION 73
house search for seed-grain, which the cultivators had stored
for spring use. Believing, probably with good reason, that
this grain would be confiscated by tyrannous and absolutely
unprincipled officials, the people consumed the seed-grain
themselves, or by hiding it in damp places they so damaged
it that it was no longer available for sowing. As a result,
the famine continued until October 1879. Oil-cake, rice,
chaff, the bark of the elm and yew, and even grasses and
roots were eagerly devoured by the starving people, who
became absolutely demoralized and like ravenous beasts,
each struggling for his own life. The corpses of those who
had perished were left lying or hastily dragged to the nearest
well or hole, until these became choked with dead bodies.
Dogs wandered about in troops preying upon the unburied
carcases. Pestilence dogged the steps of want and cholera
broke out. Everything combined to intensify the disaster.
Many officials in high places proved apathetic, or worse still,
for selfish purposes, aided and abetted in keeping up prices,
and even intercepting the grain which was being sent in
over rough mountain tracks for the relief of the dying.
Speaking of 1878, Mr Wade says : " To-day I have ridden
through a great part of the city, and I saw a large number of
persons, especially children and women, whom death cer-
tainly has marked for his own very shortly. A half-dozen
times I tried to buy and distribute some kulchas small
cakes made of the flour of Indian corn, rice or wheat and was
as often mobbed. Poor children crept from underneath the
verandah boards of closed shops, and others from holes and
corners that pariah dogs generally occupy, and surrounded
my pony. Parda women, and apparently most respectable
men, stopped and begged and struggled for a piece of bread.
I found it impossible to keep the people from thronging me,
or to maintain anything like order. Directly I obtained any
kulchas, the hungry pressed upon me, the stronger pushing
aside the weaker, and all reaching forth their hands, and
begging or screaming, they laid hold of my coat. They took
74
bread out of my pockets. Two men with baskets of bread,
from whom I attempted to purchase some, were besieged
and their bread speedily seized and eaten. After having
paid for the bread, I made my escape by riding as fast as I
could away from the hungry crowd."
Mr Wade did splendid work in this famine. He employed
a very large number of coolies on famine relief works, and
made and repaired roads, dug and cleaned canals, filled up
foul holes, levelled uneven ground and planted trees. Many
of the most familiar land-marks, such as the lines of poplar
trees, roads and canals in and around the Munshi Bagh, the
European quarter of Srinagar, date back to this time. With
foresight and faith in the future of the Medical Mission, Mr
Wade had a great terrace cut across the north side of the
Rustum Gaddi Hill, stretching eastwards from the clump of
buildings already planted there by Dr Maxwell. This sub-
sequently formed a magnificent site for the extension of the
rapidly-growing and developing Mission Hospital (Plate 17).
Gratuitous relief was given regularly at the hospital.
Sometimes as many as 2000 applicants assembled at one time.
An orphanage was started with the help of Mrs Downes, and
at one time there were as many as 400 inmates. When the
famine had subsided, however, all the orphans were claimed
by their friends.
Meanwhile the medical and surgical work of the Mission
were steadily increasing. Dr Downes' reputation was at-
tracting large numbers; and in 1878 as many as 1000 in-
patients were treated in the hospital. Dr Downes also
initiated district work, and made tours in the valley during
which he saw over a thousand patients.
Thus Elmslie planted the Medical Mission, Maxwell found
it a permanent home, and Downes consolidated and extended
it, and especially built up a great surgical reputation. With
the kind aid of the Kashmir State he enlarged the hospital,
until there was accommodation for a hundred patients.
During three of the most disastrous years ever experi-
THE KASHMIR MEDICAL MISSION 75
enced by Kashmir, when famine and disease were stalking
like spectres through the land, Dr Downes and Mr Wade were
thus unceasingly engaged, the one in combating disease, the
other in fighting famine.
When in 1882 Dr Downes was compelled by ill-health to
retire, a public farewell meeting was held. It was presided
over by the British political officer on special duty, and
addresses and testimonials were presented to him by patients
and friends of various ranks, creeds and nationalities, testify-
ing to the high esteem in which he was held by all who had
come into contact with him.
Dr Arthur Neve arrived in Kashmir hi March 1882. He
enjoyed the great advantage of working with Dr Downes
till the autumn, when he took over charge. Nineteen years
later the Kaisar-i-Hind gold medal was conferred on him for
Public Service. One of the greatest drawbacks to the satis-
factory development of the Mission Hospital has always
been the want of Indian Christian helpers. A hospital
worked entirely with the aid of Hindu and Mohammedan
subordinates is liable to the introduction of bribery and
corruption, and not only do the patients suffer from neglect
but even graver scandals may arise. Dr A. Neve brought
with him from the Punjab two Indian Christians to fill the
posts respectively of house-surgeon and chief dispenser.
This marked a distinct advance. Both did excellent work.
The house-surgeon, Hospital Assistant K. B. Thomas, after
many years of faithful service, laid down his life in the
terrible cholera epidemic of 1892, in which he had rendered
most valuable aid.
Kashmir is a land of catastrophes, and in 1885 the great
earthquake occurred. This is vividly described in a letter
written by the Rev. Rowland Bateman at the time. " We
went to a village 16 miles from Srinagar, itinerating,
on 2gth May. Before going to bed we heard a booming
sound less unlike the report of distant ordnance than any-
thing else, only it was evidently not distant at all. Being
76 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
tired, we idly wondered what it was and forgot it. About
three o'clock next morning there was a terrible shaking.
Our village beds, at all time lively from other causes, began
to dance about the room with us on them. The hut we were
in was made of wood, and did not fall as the plaster did, so
we were only smothered in dust. A large silk factory next
door fell with a terrible crash. A piteous wail arose from all
the inhabitants. Next morning we were in doubt which way
to go, not knowing whether a similar shock had been felt in
Srinagar. We decided to return. Not far from our door
we saw the sole survivor of a family digging graves for his
wife and child, his sister and her child. There were none
wounded. Those who did not escape were dead. We
trudged back through mud and rain to the city. The con-
vulsion had been less and less severe in every village we
reached, but just as we entered Srinagar we saw in one
place twenty-one fires consuming the bodies of as many
soldiers who were being summoned to parade as we passed
the day before. The Mission Hospital was almost uninjured,
though there was a sad loss in glass and drugs. We rested,
I am sorry to say, on Sunday instead of going out as we
should have done had we known that the district which we
had been going to had suffered much more than the capital.
" On Monday Mr Knowles and I went out to collect the
wounded in boats and bring them to the hospital which Dr
Neve established on the river bank at Baramula. This work
lasted for a fortnight. It was soon apparent that we had to
count the dead by thousands. There can hardly have been
less than three thousand deaths hi the district we traversed in
that time. The proportion of wounded to dead was every-
where surprisingly small, but there was plenty to do. And
every day the cases became worse from neglect and delay.
Bones began to reunite all crooked, dislocations to get hope-
lessly stiff, wounds to gangrene and mortify, and systems grew
less able to bear the operations which earlier might have been
unnecessary.
THE KASHMIR MEDICAL MISSION 77
" The Kashmiris have a habit of taking little pitchers of
live embers (kangris) with them to bed. These, of course,
were broken, and the horrors of fire were added to those of
mutilation. In some cases, where the houses were thatched,
the roofs caught fire, and many were thus burned to death.
Some classes of the people live under huge flat roofs covered
with as much as 2 feet of earth. In these are collected all
the live stock. One such I saw; it was about 60 feet by
25 feet. It had fallen so flat that you would not have re-
cognized it as the site of a house at all. Under it were sleep-
ing about one hundred head of cattle and sheep, and seven-
teen human beings. When I got there, three men, the sole
survivors, were digging through the roof for fourteen corpses.
They had pulled out a pony alive, but it died before it could
get off the roof. Close by was a house where the diggers were
rewarded by a child with half his scalp torn off, a boy with
both feet shattered, and a man hopelessly crushed by a beam.
Again, close by, was a woman with an infant at her breast
and her arm badly broken. Her husband had escaped, but
the sensitive fellow had fled from the horrors that surrounded
him. I tried to persuade her to come with me, but she could
not walk. All the beds had been smashed, so there was noth-
ing to carry her upon. All the horses had been killed, so she
could not ride; and at last when I proposed to see her safe
to the hospital on a cow that was standing near, she said,
* Alas, sir, that cow has a broken leg.' We were put to
strange shifts sometimes for ambulance. In some villages
they could not get out the dead, in others there was not
strength to bury them. Everywhere the stench was in-
tolerable.
" I used to try and estimate the casualties by counting
the new graves and fresh ash-heaps. But this expedient
failed me in one hamlet at least, where out of forty-seven
inhabitants only seven had escaped at all. Four of these
were wounded and only two able-bodied men. How could
they bury their dead? Nature provided an answer; and all
78 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
along in the fresh clefts in the earth her victims were reve-
rently laid. The convulsion that had destroyed them pro-
vided them with decent burial, and far below the level of
the soil, green sods were laid on the deep graves of that awful
graveyard.
" The people, though called Mohammedan, are much
more like Hindus in their faith. Instead of devils or local
gods they pray to ' pirs ' or saints. In a village where a very
celebrated tomb stands, the house, being wooden, had escaped.
The people told me that the pir had saved them. We asked
why the pir of a neighbouring village had not saved the people
who lived round his tomb, and told them that we had seen
the tomb itself upset, and the trees which overshadowed it
torn 20 yards from one another. ' Oh,' they said, ' save
them! Why should he? They had heaped too much earth
upon him, the fools, and it was his turning in his grave to
shake it off that caused their destruction.'
" It is something to have turned the thoughts of many of
these people to the living God. The friendliness and sym-
pathy we have shown them will make the missionary wel-
come when he returns to expound the way of God more per-
fectly. Some of those who owe their limbs or their lives to
Christian medical effort will surely learn to love Him whose
steps we were trying to follow, and so their calamity will be
changed into a blessing.
" The destruction wrought by the earthquake has been
fearful. Its exact extent may never be accurately known.
But it is estimated that over 3000 persons have perished,
that 10,000 houses have been wrecked, and 40,000 more
cattle and sheep been destroyed. Many villages have been
obliterated, and the towns of Sopur and Baramula exist,
but as heaps of ruins."
In the early autumn the Maharajah Ranbir Singh
died. Although at first opposed to the work of the Medical
Mission, he had become distinctly friendly and helpful, and
had not only granted a site but erected hospital buildings
THE KASHMIR MEDICAL MISSION 79
at State expense. He was a kingly man and a capable
ruler.
Two decades had elapsed since Elmslie laid the foundation
of the Medical Mission work. It is interesting to note the
degree of progress. A large hospital, roughly constructed
but capable of holding a hundred patients, was now the
centre of a definite missionary organization, which had borne
fruit hi a small community of native Christians, and the New
Testament had been translated by the Rev. T. R. Wade into
Kashmiri.
In the winter of 1886 the hospital staff was augmented by
the arrival of the writer. This doubling of the staff marked
a notable advance, increasing as it did our capacity for work
and our reach. For it now became possible to visit syste-
matically outlying portions of Kashmir. Indeed in 1887
more patients were seen in the villages than at the central
hospital.
Srinagar has been designated the City of the Sun. It
might with equal propriety be called the City of Appalling
Odours. The long streets by which it is traversed have been
metalled and drained and made presentable, but countless
lanes and alleys intersect the whole town. The population
is extraordinarily dense. The people know nothing of
sanitation and are primitive in their habits. Large areas
of courtyard and lane are never penetrated by the rays of the
sun. In wet weather the boots of the pedestrians sink
deeply into evil-smelling black slime, which is being added
to daily. In the summer, when the shade temperature is
often over 90 F., it is dreadful to contemplate the variety
of germs of disease and pestilence which may be multiplying
in those foul recesses, as they seethe with the malodorous
emanations from accumulated filth. The drainage runs into
stagnant canals in which the people bathe and wash their
clothes, and from which the women fill their water-pots with
water for drinking and household use. In 1888 there was no
supply of pure drinking-water laid on in the city. Srinagar,
8o BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
from a sanitary standpoint, was like a powder magazine wait-
ing for a spark. This was applied in the spring.
On 5th April we were walking along the banks of the
river Jhelum on our way to meet H.H. the Maharajah of
Kashmir, when we met four men carrying a sick person on a
string bedstead. We stopped them, to see what was wrong,
and saw an emaciated corpse-like form, a man in the collapse
stage of cholera.
At that time we had a full hospital with over a hundred
in-patients. During the week preceding the outbreak,
great crowds of people had flocked hi to a Mohammedan fair
and hundreds had thronged our waiting-room. On one day
alone we had admitted thirty in-patients and performed
fifty-three surgical operations. Two patients in the hospital
were stricken with cholera and died in a few hours. The
others were panic-stricken and in a few hours the hospital
was almost empty.
By arrangement with the Superintending Surgeon of the
State, who was most helpful, one of us took charge of a large
district including the eastern suburbs of the city and out-
lying villages. And Dr Arthur Neve visited nearly every
part of the valley where there was any mortality. On an
average there were a hundred deaths a day in the city. In
two months the total mortality considerably exceeded ten
thousand. Scattered villages, with a good water supply,
escaped to a large extent. As usual the cholera marched
along the main routes, and every infected water supply
became a focus of disease and death.
Of recent years the completion of the Jhelum Valley
Road and the greatly increased traffic to and from India
have unfortunately made outbreaks of cholera more fre-
quent. In twenty years there have been five serious
epidemics with at least forty thousand deaths. The fatal
years were 1888, 1892, 1900, 1907 and 1910. Before the year
1900, however, a supply of pure water had been laid on to
most parts of the city, and thousands of lives were saved
THE KASHMIR MEDICAL MISSION 81
thereby. In 1888 and 1892 Srinagar was a " City of Dread-
ful Death." " We are looking from the bows of our mat-
roofed boat for the first sight of Srinagar, the so-called
Venice of the East. The turbid and lazy stream sweeps
against the prow, masses of dirty foam, floating straw, dead
bodies of dogs, and all the other garbage of a great city.
How can one admire the great sweep of snow mountains, the
deep azure of the sky, and broad rippling sheet of cloud and
sky-reflecting water, when every sense is assailed by things
that disgust. Upon one bank stands a neat row of wooden
huts. This is a cholera hospital. Upon the other bank the
blue smoke curling up from a blazing pile gives atmosphere
and distance to the rugged mountains. It is a funeral pyre.
And as our boat passes into the city, now and again we meet
other boats, each with their burden of death. All traffic
seems to be suspended. Shops are closed. Now and again,
from some neighbouring barge, we hear the wail of mourners,
the shrieks of women as in a torture den, echoed away among
the houses on the bank." *
Early in the spring of 1907 there was a sharp epidemic of
cholera at the west end of the valley. In some of the villages
the mortality was appalling. When I arrived in the Lolab in
the first week of May, things were quite at their worst. In
some houses, one by one all had been attacked, and the last
survivor was left with no one to attend and give food and
water. The village official who reported the cases had just
died. The head-man of the village refused to move out of
his house, and panic was universal. Both the State doctors
who were working in the district were old Mission Hospital
assistants, and they were doing their work well. Having
frequently done medical work in the Lolab before, I found
that the people were friendly and willing to be treated.
Many of the village springs became veritable death tanks.
And sometimes the disease was disseminated as the direct
result of superstitious observances. On one occasion, for
1 Dr A. Neve, Mission Hospital Reports.
82 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
instance, the Mohammedan priests of a famous shrine made
a proclamation that to avert the pestilence, the tank in the
courtyard of the sacred edifice should be at once filled with
water brought by the worshippers. The people came in their
hundreds, each bearing a water-pot which was duly emptied
into the tank, some of the water of which was then drunk as
a preservative from cholera. Unfortunately the water was
infected, and the disastrous outburst of cholera which fol-
lowed was acknowledged even by the Mohammedans to be
obviously due to the work of the previous day.
Both cholera and smallpox are a source of grave danger
to Europeans residing in Kashmir. Several have died of
cholera.
Until the introduction of general vaccination, practically
the whole population of Kashmir contracted smallpox in
childhood. The mortality was appalling. From this and
other causes fifty per cent, of the children of Kashmir are said
to die in infancy. I often wish the opponents of vaccination
could be present in our consulting room to see the melancholy
procession, day by day, of those who have lost their sight
from smallpox. For this disease is the most frequent cause
of total incurable blindness.
Those who are vaccinated, especially if recently so, live
with safety and impunity even in the midst of infection.
Doctors and nurses enjoy the same immunity as they do in
smallpox hospitals at home.
On the other hand, on more than one occasion in our
small British community, children, whose vaccination has
been omitted, have been singled out by the disease, in one
case with fatal result. In contrast to this there has been no
case of smallpox, within my memory, in the children of
native Christians a small group, properly vaccinated, under
the supervision of the Medical Mission. From time to time
European adults, who have neglected re-vaccination, are
attacked.
Public vaccination has of recent years been carried on
.83
with a certain measure of efficiency, and with the utmost
benefit to the infant population. As might be anticipated,
young adults are now, however, occasionally attacked by
smallpox. This is, of course, owing to the fact that no
adequate provision has been made for their re-vaccination.
Enteric fever is also common in Srinagar. Kashmiri
children usually contract it at an early age. Its prevalence
constitutes a real danger to European visitors to Kashmir.
Like many other towns with large rivers, Srinagar, in a
marvellous way, escaped having plague in a severe form.
There was, however, a sharp epidemic in 1903. A man died
immediately after his arrival in the mail-cart from India.
His body was buried in quicklime. His friends secretly
exhumed the corpse in order to re-inter it near a sacred shrine.
They were attacked and the disease spread rapidly. It
assumed the pneumonic form. And curiously enough th&re
was no associated rat mortality. The authorities took
vigorous measures, at first burning down all plague-infected
houses. They were, however, compelled to abandon this,
owing to popular opposition. The disease gradually died
out, after lingering with singular persistence in some isolated
villages near the Wular Lake. The mortality, all through,
was terrible over 95 per cent. Kashmiris, who were under
European influence, were willing to submit to prophylactic
inoculation. No European was attacked by plague.
Modern civilization brings in its train many physical evils.
Not the least of these is the multiplication of diseases. The
abandonment of open-air life is followed by an enormous
increase in the amount of tuberculosis, with its innumerable
manifestations. As different trades and occupations are in-
troduced, so the variety of disorders of the skin, the eye, the
nervous and other systems becomes multiplied, until now in
Europe the number of diseases is almost infinite. In the
East we have fewer diseases, but the number of people
affected is relatively and actually greater. Infection from
want of sanitary precautions plays a great part. Contagion
84 BEYOND THE P1R PANJAL
is responsible for many of the local diseases which are ram-
pant such as ophthalmia, scaldhead and the itch. A
peculiar form of malignant disease, called " Kangri burn
cancer," is due to the universal use of portable braziers.
In other respects the diseases of Kashmir are very much
the same as those met with in Europe.
CHAPTER VII
THE MISSION HOSPITAL
New Buildings A Beautiful Prospect A Crowd of Sick People
Reclaimed Items of Expenditure A Provident System A Walk
round the Wards Mohammedans and Hindus Types of Patients A
Little Sufferer St Luke's Chapel The Relief of Lepers.
Many are the pains of life ; I need not stay
To count them ; there is no one but hath felt
Some of them though unequally they fall
But of all good gifts, ever hath been health
Counted the first, and the loss of it to be
The hardest thing to bear. . . .
H. E. HAMILTON KING.
THE long western ridge of the Takht-i-Suleiman is prolonged
into a picturesque grassy spur which used to be crowned by
an old fort and is known as the Rustum Gaddi. On the south
side of this are the high reddish-yellow cliffs of a stone quarry.
On the north side, a hundred feet above the level of the valley,
in a commanding position, is the Mission Hospital. This has
been entirely rebuilt since 1888. In those days it was all
lath and plaster with mud walls and mud floors. At the
present tune, the new buildings are most picturesque, with
their towers, broad verandahs, red roofs and gables extending
for nearly a quarter of a mile along the hillside, embowered
in the spring in almond blossom, or in the summer showing
pretty glimpses of form and colour between the masses of
varied foliage (Plate 18).
"From the upper verandahs, the prospect is indeed
beautiful. Sparkling a hundred feet below is the clear
flowing water of the network of canals joining the lake, the
city and the European quarters. Away over the tops of the
tall poplars we catch a glimpse of the airy pinnacles of the
85
86 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
city mosques ; beyond these the hazy blue outlines of rolling
hills, over which, on the south and west, are the noble ser-
rated ridges of the Pir Panjal melting away in the distance
till they blend with the sky.
" To the north, but a few miles away, rise masses of
rocky mountains, enclosing in their grand sweep the Dal
Lake and a maze of gardens, orchards and willow-hidden
waterways, dominated by the bare red slopes and fortified
crest of the isolated fort hill.
" Within the circle of that snow range dwell half a million
souls, for whom the red cross flag, waving from the hospital
hill, has a message of * peace and goodwill among men.'
And if that message has yet to be intelligibly delivered in its
fulness to hundreds of thousands of these, yet to how many
has the goodwill been practically manifested? " How many
thousands were relieved in the dark and terrible years of
famine, earthquake and cholera! Year by year, too, thou-
sands of sick people, with many varied ailments, throng to
the hospital for relief. Since Dr Elmslie first founded the
work in 1865, far more people have applied to the Medical
Mission for relief than there are now inhabitants in the
valley. During the last ten years alone, over four hundred
thousand visits have been paid, and 14,500 in-patients have
been treated in the hospital wards.
At the east end of the hospital, high up on the hillside, is a
large building with a central tower. This is the out-patient
department, with a commodious waiting-room, consulting-
rooms, dispensary, bacteriological laboratory and operation-
rooms fitted with all the appliances necessary for the efficient
carrying on of an extensive medical and surgical work. On
a busy day in the summer, before midday, little groups
of people may be seen gradually collecting, sitting in
the shade of the trees, waiting for the doors to open. An
old blind man will be brought up on a rough mountain
pony. Four men may be seen staggering up the hill carrying
on a bedstead a man with a broken leg. This little pro-
THE MISSION HOSPITAL 87
cession with a sedan-chair, with the red curtains flapping
hi the breeze, is accompanying a "parda" woman of the
better classes. The old man with hardly any clothes on, and
his body smeared with white ashes, is a Hindu Sadhu from
India. Look at the elaborate caste marks on his face ! The
little group of men with sturdy ponies and long coats, like
wadded dressing-gowns, are from Yarkand in Central Asia.
See how fair they are, and their cheeks are quite red. They
are making the pilgrimage to Mecca. The sprightly little man
behind is a Goorkha soldier. His home is Nepal. He is pro-
bably "orderly " to some officer. How many creedsand nations
are represented here (Plate 19) . Kashmiri Mohammedans,
men and women, hi their dirty gowns, predominate ; but here
also may be seen herdsmen from the hills, tall, pale and
melancholy-looking, and usually clothed in dark blue.
Kashmiri Hindus and their families may be seen side by side
with Buddhists from Ladakh. From many remote districts
around, patients come sometimes journeying for days and
weeks across passes. " Many are the pains of life." Here
we see some people disfigured by large goitres, others crippled
with chronic rheumatism, and some with their faces so marred
by disease as to impel them to keep them hidden from sight.
The blind, with cataract or ophthalmia, the halt and maimed,
paralysed or sufferers from diseases of bones or joints, the
cancer-stricken, those afflicted with dropsy, lepers, and
crowds with every variety of surgical ailment, toil up the
steps to the waiting-room as the midday gun is fired. The
room is soon packed, the patients sitting on the floor, and
the door is closed. The babel of voices subsides as the
doctor comes hi and reads some appropriate passage from
the New Testament, which he then explains hi simple lan-
guage, and endeavours to apply directly to the need of those
before him. This is listened to attentively. Here and there
one audibly assents. There is no feeling of antagonism.
Many are doubtless languid or indifferent. But most feel
that the combination of spiritual with physical ministration
88 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
is fitting, and is it not what they have been accustomed to in
their own religion? At the close of the address a short prayer
is offered. It is by no means unfrequent for many of those
present to associate themselves in this by saying Amen, like
our good Wesleyan friends, at the close of each petition.
One by one the patients, summoned by the ringing of a
small bell, pass into the next room, where they are examined
and prescribed for by the surgeon on duty.
One day I was seated in the consulting-room, engaged in
seeing the out-patients, when in marched a funny little object.
It was a little six-year-old girl, with unkempt hair, one ragged
and scant garment, and a sharp, intelligent face. There was
no one with her, and the most careful inquiry failed to elicit
any information about her home or parents. When asked,
" Where do you come from? " she pointed west. Interro-
gated further, she stated that she had slept at the roadside
the previous night. About her origin we could, however,
ascertain nothing. Like Topsy, she appeared to have
growed.
That the Mission Hospital was the best place to which
she could have come was quite certain, for she was suffering
from a terrible deformity, which quite marred her beauty.
Her head was bound down to the left side by an enormous
scar, resulting from a previous burn, so that the cheek was
almost in contact with the tip of the shoulder, to which it was
firmly attached.
How this forlorn little maiden happened to stray into our
consulting-room, whether it was her own idea, or whether
she had been directed to us, we have never found out.
We admitted her, and in the course of a day or two an
extensive surgical operation was performed. As the result of
this, her condition was much improved, and after careful
attention, in the course of two or three months, it was evident
that although her head was curiously tilted to one side, the
original deformity was largely removed. And what was to
be done now? Were we to turn out the poor little vessel to
THE MISSION HOSPITAL 89
take its chance amongst all the brazen and the iron and the
earthenware pots which are floating down the current of life?
If so, what about the shallows and the rapids and the falls.
No; we felt that she was sent to us to be cared for, and so
with the aid of kind friends, we sent her to a Christian board-
ing school, with the hope that under good influences she
might grow up to be a Christian, not only in name but in word
and deed.
For some hours the work of prescribing for the patients
goes on. Many have wounds which require dressing.
Splints have to be applied and medicines distributed. The
surgical work is often very heavy. Twelve major and forty
minor operations may be performed in a single day. Some-
times as many as 400 patients are seen in one day.
It is often a little difficult to grasp the significance of
figures. Four hundred patients, if they stood in single file,
would reach a quarter of a mile. The total number of patients
who attend in one year, if they stood two and two, rather
close together, would extend to a distance of 16 miles. About
25 miles of bandage are used annually and 18,000 Ibs.
weight of medicine. The amount of rice supplied annually
gratis to patients is fourteen tons, and of milk about twenty-
five tons.
It would be quite impossible to carry on this extensive
work without the large amount of assistance and support
which we receive from a great number of friends. First
among these must be mentioned our colleague, Dr Harold
Rawlence, who has absolutely identified himself with the
work of the Mission Hospital. I have already referred to the
most important and valued work done by Miss Neve as Super-
intendent of Nursing. To this we owe much of the efficiency
of the hospital. There is also a large band of assistants,
some of them, like Dr Wilson, our house-surgeon, Indian
Christians, and others Hindus, who have, however, been
trained in the Mission School. These form a staff of willing
helpers. We could not do the work without them. If many
90 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
hands do not make light work, they at least make it
easier.
Owing, too, to the generosity of many friends, both in
India and at home, most of the beds are endowed, and suffi-
cient funds are received to enable us, with the aid of fees re-
ceived from medical practice, to meet all the hospital ex-
penses, without any grant from the Church Missionary
Society or from the Kashmir State.
The annual cost of each bed in the hospital is about 10.
In the London hospitals it averages 90 per bed. The chief
saving in Kashmir is effected on salaries, cost of labour and
of provisions. But economy in surgical dressings and ap-
paratus is an important factor. For instance, instead of
medicated cotton-wool at a rupee per pound, we substitute
to a large extent muslin bags full of sawdust and disinfected
in a high pressure steam sterilizer before use. The sawdust
costs about one anna for 10 Ibs.
India owes a great debt of gratitude to the Government
for its splendid system of civil hospitals. But hitherto,
adequate provision has not been made to obviate the free
supply of medical advice and medicines to large numbers of
those who could quite well afford and ought to pay for them.
The vast majority of our hospital patients are poor, and
they receive attendance and medicines absolutely free and
without reference to religion. One claim is sufficient, that they
are ill and need relief. So also in the wards of the hospital,
patients are treated, clothed and nursed gratuitously.
To meet, however, the needs of the increasing class of
those who are well-to-do and seek medical aid, we have erected
a block of pay- wards, for admission to which a suitable charge
is made. Also in the out-patient department, those who are
willing to pay for advice and medicine are admitted by a
separate door, on the payment of a fee, which is fixed on a
sliding scale, according to the income of the applicant. For
this a receipt is given, which is used as a ticket entitling the
possessor to private entrance to the consulting-room.
THE MISSION HOSPITAL 91
Leaving the out-patient department, we descend a long
flight of steps. The westering sun is shining brightly and
lighting up the wards with its warm orange glow. The air
is fragrant with the perfume of countless roses which may
be seen along the borders of the red paths. Beyond lies
the trimly-kept garden with its gay flower-beds, well-clipped
evergreen shrubs, and soft green velvety turf. We walk
through the wards. The patients seem to live in the open air.
In the broad verandahs there are lines and lines of polished
black iron bedsteads, occupied by patients, most of whom, too,
are evidently convalescing if we may judge by their cheerful
aspect and bright manners. Their white clothes and happy
faces, the scarlet blankets and neat grey boards with the
name at the head of each bed in red letters, the pale green
walls and mirror-like floors all combine to make a pretty
picture which is enhanced by the feeling of underlying
utility (Plate 2.0).
Altogether there is accommodation for 150 patients.
Sometimes we have more, and beds have to be made up on
the floor. It is very interesting to go round the hospital
and see the large number of inmates. More than a hundred
different towns and villages may be represented. Many of
the patients have visitors or relatives sitting by them, and
these are allowed to come at all times, so that there may
sometimes be more than two hundred people in the hospital.
Most of these are Mohammedans, but there are a good many
Hindus, and a sprinkling of other nationalities, Punjabis,
Sikhs, Tibetans and Gujars from the mountains. As a rule
we are fortunate in being able to make ourselves understood
to the great majority, for most know either Kashmiri or a
little Urdu.
There are always a good many children in the hospital.
At first they are often absolutely terrified, but they soon get
to know us and become cheerful and even gay. Toys given
by English children in Srinagar, or sent out from England,
are greatly appreciated.
92 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
One little fellow in the " Plymouth " bed is only three
years old. He was brought in with a very large tumour of
the leg. During the operation it was found that the only
chance for him was to amputate at the knee. Usually such
a decision causes a terrible hubbub amongst the friends, and
often permission is refused. But in this case the relations,
although naturally greatly distressed, made no difficulties.
We found that they had been in before with another patient,
who had recovered from a very serious illness. The boy is
now convalescent. He is hugging a large tambourine with
a cat's head painted on it, and also a tin trumpet, and
is happy all day. When I go into the ward he smiles
all over his face, and salutes by putting his hand to his
forehead.
In the " Croydon Lay Workers' Union " bed there is now
a fat little boy of five, whose foot and leg were terribly burnt
some weeks ago. He has had several skin grafts applied
and is slowly healing. Another child in the " Norbiton "
bed is suffering from disease of the shin-bone and knee-joint.
His joint was twice tapped, but eventually a more extensive
operation had to be performed for the removal of all the
disease, and he is now convalescent. He has been very
good and patient over it all. Next to him, in the " Heylyn
Platt " cot, is a little fellow with hip-joint disease. He
has a large wooden horse to play with. Its tail has come
off and it has sustained various casualties, but he does not
mind.
As we walk through the hospital we are struck by the
commonness of certain ailments. There are nearly a dozen
people who have been operated upon for kangri burn cancer.
The kangri is the fire-basket, which the people carry under
their clothes to keep themselves warm. All their lives, from
early childhood, they burn themselves with these things;
and when they get old, cancer is apt to follow from the pro-
longed irritation.
The women's wards are in the " Sir Pertabh Singh Pavi-
THE MISSION HOSPITAL 93
lion " (named after H.H. the Maharajah of Kashmir, who
formally opened it in 1893). Here there are nine or ten
women who have been operated upon for in-turned eyelashes.
They were rapidly losing their sight, but will now steadily
improve and regain vision. In the " Lloyd Edwards " bed
is a patient for whom an important operation was required
for a very large tumour. She is almost well. In the
" Gertrude " bed is an old lady with ankle-joint disease, who
is being treated by modern methods, and is slowly improving.
We trust we shall now be able to save the limb. The
" Nazareth " bed is occupied by a young woman with disease
of one of the bones of the arm. She is always bright and
pleasant and is doing well. There is an elderly woman in
the " Kensington " bed with a severe burn of the elbow. She
fell down in a faint as the result of insufficient food and the
severe cold in the winter and was burnt by her kangri. She
is an old patient and was " hi " years ago for cataract of both
eyes and then received her sight.
These wards are under the special charge of Miss Neve, the
Superintendent of Nursing, who also teaches the patients.
Some of the younger ones are quite good at learning and
repeating texts, but the women as a whole are not very
attentive listeners. There are, however, fairly frequent
exceptions.
In the wards of the hospital we obtain a glimpse into the
better side of Kashmir life. Many of the patients are vil-
lagers. Supposing a little child falls ill, and is brought in,
he is often accompanied by quite a number of relatives.
Some of these usually remain for a few days, and as they
become accustomed to our ways and methods they grow
more and more friendly. Sometimes, hi rotation, nearly
every member of a family will come to take turn in watching
by and nursing a little patient. The father goes back
to his fields, his place is taken by the mother. She, in
turn, is too much needed at home, and has reluctantly
to leave, handing over charge, perhaps, to an old grand-
94 BEYOND THE P1R PANJAL
mother. Sometimes confidence is so far gained that the
friends will commend the child to our care for days or
weeks, ever and anon putting in an appearance to see how
things are going on.
Zuni was a little Kashmiri girl nine years old. She had
gone through a good deal of trouble at home. She hardly
remembered her father, who died long ago. Her mother's
health was very bad, and poor little Zuni had been left to fend
for herself. When her leg became swollen and painful, the
outlook seemed very bad. Her mother was too poor to pay
for the attendance of native doctors, which was perhaps just
as well for Zuni, for they would very likely have bled her
and given her poisonous drugs containing mercury, till her
gums became spongy and her teeth loose. A neighbour sug-
gested their going to the Mission Hospital, but they were
afraid, because they knew of a boy in the next street whose
leg had been cut off there. It is true that the boy was well
and happy and loud in his praises of the hospital as a place
where they got lots to eat and every one was kind. But
the possibility of her leg being cut off was too dreadful!
Zuni would rather die first. So they postponed it and put it
off, but then the leg got very sore and she could not walk
at all, and began to get very pale and thin. At last they
hired a boat and started off. Presently they saw a long row
of buildings, with several towers, on the side of a hill, and up
above was a white flag with a red cross on it. They were
told that this was the Mission Hospital, and Zuni was lifted
out of the boat by her aunt and carried up the hill to a large
room where there was a great crowd of people. She counted
150. They were all sitting on the ground. Then the
doctor came in and Zuni was very frightened, until she saw
that he had nothing more dreadful than a book in his hand.
He sat down, read to the people from the book, which he
said was the Gospel, and then talked to them, and Zuni was
surprised to find that she could understand something of
what he said, and that he was telling the people of a great
THE MISSION HOSPITAL 95
Prophet, who went about doing good and healing the sick
and who gave His own life in order to save men from sin.
Then after the doctor had finished and gone out, she heard
a little bell ring and ring; and each time it rang, one of the
sick people got up and went out of the big room and was lost
to sight. And Zuni wondered whether they were all having
arms and legs cut off, but thought not, as she did not hear
any cry except a small and naughty baby, which was evidently
very cross, and which was smacked by its mother, which
did not improve its temper. Presently her turn came and
Zuni was taken into the next room and the doctor looked at
her leg and said she must have something to send her to sleep
and then he would put the leg right. Then her aunt began
to cry, and she cried too, and felt sure she was going to have
her leg cut off and be killed. And they took her into a very
bright room and put her on a shiny table and gave her some
strange sweet stuff on a towel to smell, and she felt the whole
room whirl round, and the noise in her ears reminded her of
the great flood, when the stream near their home became a
roaring torrent and nearly swept them all away. Then she
seemed to hear far-away voices, which appeared to get louder ;
and she was just going to implore them not to do anything
to her, when to her surprise she was told that it was all
finished. She then fell asleep and when she awoke she was in
a nice clean, comfortable bed, with white sheets and red
blankets and such a soft pillow. And in the next bed to her
she was surprised to see another little girl of about her own
age, whose name was Khotani, and who said her home was
in the mountains. They were soon great friends and Khotani
told her that she had been in the hospital for two months and
was getting better, and it was a jolly place, and the Miss
Sahibs were very kind. And she showed her such a nice
doll and told her stories about life hi the mountains, among
the pines and snows, and all about her pet lamb and her
father's buffaloes. And the Miss Sahib used to come and
read to them and talk to them, and both Zuni and Khotani
96 BEYOND THE FIR PANJAL
learned texts and liked to hear about the little Child who was
born in Bethlehem, and about the angel who came to tell
good news to the shepherds. One day Zuni had a beautiful
Japanese doll given to her, and it made her very happy.
And a large musical-box used to be brought into the ward
sometimes and it played beautiful tunes and she was so
pleased. Zuni remained some months in the hospital, and
began quite to look upon it as her home.
Many of the patients come a good deal under the influence
of Christian teaching. But when they return to their homes,
too often the weight of public opinion is brought to bear
against the teaching which they have heard. We are doing
perhaps more than we can guess, even in our sanguine
moments, towards leavening and modifying that public
opinion. Although nominally assenting to much of Christian
doctrine, the general feeling of the Mohammedan community
is naturally very strongly against a change of religion. The
Hindus, on the other hand, have, of course, still less in
common with Christianity, and their whole religious thought
seems to be on quite a different plane. In the abstract, the
Hindu is more tolerant than the Mohammedan, but in reality
he is not one whit more so, if any member of his community
should show the desire of becoming a Christian.
It seems, and is, a bold enterprise for a mere handful of
Christians, brought up in a distant country and of an alien race,
with different manners, customs, sentiments and habits, to try
to bring the people of a country like Kashmir to believe in
Christ, with all that this belief (taken in the Christian sense)
implies. The difficulty is not diminished by the fact that the
lives of many Christians, with whom the people come into
contact, carry with them very little Christian influence. It
is increased by the want of religious freedom and toleration
in Kashmir. Hindus and Mohammedans are seldom back-
ward in applauding the impartiality exhibited by the Govern-
ment of India in all matters of religion, but they do not
imitate it. The convert to Christianity in Kashmir has to
THE MISSION HOSPITAL 97
endure a storm of persecution. He becomes an outcast from
his family and an object of contempt and hatred to his former
co-religionists. He usually loses his means of livelihood, and
is ostracized by his friends and neighbours. Yet these very
difficulties accentuate the importance of the work. The
evangelization of the world has from the earliest days had to
encounter persecution, hatred, intolerance and scorn. Time
after time it has triumphed, and by the grace of God it will
do so in Kashmir, but we must have patience.
" Among those who appear interested, in the wards, are
certain types. One is the old soldier who has served under
British officers, or the Indian servant who has been long in
the employ of a kind master. Perhaps little may have been
said to them about religion, but they have seen something
of its effect on the English character, and when spoken to
personally, under the solemnizing influence of a severe illness,
they respond to it. Let me give two examples. S. K. had
served thirteen years in a Punjab regiment and had fought
under the British flag in Egypt as well as in Afghanistan and
on the frontier. His home is 100 miles west of this, but he
had heard of the hospital, and when other treatment failed
to relieve his dropsy resulting from heart disease, he travelled
up here, on horseback, accompanied by two or three relatives.
Tapping and other treatment relieved him considerably, and
he was very grateful for all the personal attention shown him,
and was ready to talk about his former experiences. As
time went on, his heart seemed touched by the thought of
God's love, and he spoke of Christ as the Saviour. He not
only listened himself, but made others do so, and any Hindu-
stani-speaking patients in the wards would join with him in re-
sponding during an address or prayer. His improvement
was not maintained altogether, and at last he reluctantly
started for home, appearing much affected at parting. Of
such an one surely the hope may be expressed that there will
be a happier meeting above."
" P. K. was brought to us hi an extreme state of weakness
98 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
from an incurable disease. I had known him as the trust-
worthy henchman of a gentleman living here. We could only
relieve him a little, and stave off the end by a few days. But
he was thankful, and asked me to pray with him. I broke it
to him gently that he could not hope to see his master and
mistress again, as they would not be back for some weeks.
We talked of the life beyond, and he listened to the words of
Christ as if they gave him comfort. And he who gave com-
fort to that dying Mohammedan will not, we may be sure,
refuse to intercede for him at the Mercy Seat on high."
" Another type is the devout old villager, perhaps a Mullah
or Pir, who may have come from a distance to have his eyes
operated on for cataract. Some men of this kind seem
really religious, not mere formalists; they listen well, and
often comment briefly on the teaching, and the more spiritual
this is, the more they appear to appreciate it. Pleasant as
it is to talk to these, they do not readily receive any new
doctrine. The Atonement of Christ does not seem to appeal
to them, though the story of the Resurrection and Ascension
does so, and still more the doctrine of Christ as the Great
Intercessor. But saint worship in Kashmir has reached such
lengths that perhaps they believe as much about their ' Pirs '
as we claim for our Divine Master. One or two of the more
educated villagers have expressed much interest, but we have
lost sight of them lately. One from the west of the valley
read the Gospels and some tracts, and was at first a little
argumentative, but later on he openly, before some Moham-
medans, said he was not one of them, for he was a Christian."
" A different type to this is the lad, possibly suffering from
bone or joint disease, who likes to get hold of a book and to
hear something novel. The interest is often very super-
ficial to start with, but if it can be followed up, may make a
deep impression." l
At the foot of the Rustum Gaddi Hill and at the east end
of the hospital garden, opening on to the main road to the
1 Dr A. Neve, Mission Hospital Reports.
THE MISSION HOSPITAL 99
city, is the pretty little chapel of St Luke. It is built of grey
stone, and the windows, cornices, mouldings and interior
lining are of red brick. The church is cruciform, with
an apsidal chancel, on either side of which are brass
memorial tablets to Dr Elmslie and Mr K. B. Thomas and
to Miss Petrie and Miss F. Butler, the first lady medical
missionary to Kashmir. The reredos is a fine piece of carving
in walnut wood. In the north transept there is also a tablet
in memory of Miss Robinson, who for eight years rendered
most faithful service as nursing sister.
Gothic arches of timber support the roof, the inside of
which is ceiled with a beautiful parqueterie, peculiar to
Kashmir, and known as khatmband, thin slips of pine wood
pieced together with great skill to form a bold geometrical
pattern.
Near the end of the nave at the entrance, a carved screen
stretches across the church, behind which are the seats for
Mohammedans and Hindus.
St Luke's Chapel was dedicated by the Bishop of Lahore
on I2th September 1896, in the presence of a large congre-
gation, partly European and partly native. Among the
natives, Kashmiri, Punjabi, Pathan and Bengali were repre-
sented. This ceremony marked an epoch in the Mission.
From time to time we have the joy of witnessing in this
building the admission of members to the Christian Church.
One of the last was Lass Sheikh, a leper, who had long
been interested in Christian teaching, and who had been
living a quiet and consistent life in the leper hospital. At
the same tune a boy, the son of one of the other lepers,
was, at his own desire and with his father's consent, admitted
to the visible church. The service, which was conducted by
the Rev. F. E. Lucey, was most impressive, as first one and
then the other in the presence of the congregation confessed
his faith in Christ, and promised to fight faithfully under His
banner a pledge which, in Kashmir, is no empty form, but
a veritable taking up of the cross.
ioo BEYOND THE FIR PANJAL
In past years many inquirers, dreading the persecution
which is inevitable in Kashmir, have fled to the Punjab, where
some have been baptized.
Of those who have been baptized in Kashmir, several
have sooner or later apostatized. Kashmiri Christians re-
quire very strong faith and an unusually strong character to
withstand the depressing effect of the constant disabilities to
which they are exposed, owing to their religious belief.
The whole strength of popular prejudice, of caste and of
officialdom is against a change of religion. But all these
are as impotent to stay the change which is coming surely
and slowly over India, as was Canute to stem the rising tide.
Education is making strides, and the future is bright with
the hopes of enlightenment and intellectual freedom. The
true power and beneficence of Christianity are becoming
increasingly acknowledged.
A Mission Hospital is a " moral text-book," which can be
read and appreciated by the most illiterate. And we are
right in revealing our sources of inspiration. We have a
message, the message of peace and goodwill to men through
the Saviour Christ. Day by day, week by week, these good
tidings of great joy have been told. Oftentimes, I fear, they
have appeared foolishness to the hearers. History repeats itself.
For the pantheistic Greek substitute the Hindu, for the mono-
theistic Jew take the Mohammedan, and to the one " Christ
Crucified " is still a stumbling-block, and to the other foolish-
ness. Nevertheless we believe with St Paul that to those who
receive Him, Christ is the Power of God and the Wisdom of
God. During the past years many Kashmiris have apparently
listened to this message with devoutness and thankfulness.
Twenty years ago a visitor walking round the Kashmir
Mission Hospital would have found one building occupied
exclusively by lepers. At that time the hospital wards were
built of lath and plaster, with earthen floors, and the ac-
commodation for the lepers was perhaps the worst of all.
From sixty to eighty lepers used to come to us annually as
THE MISSION HOSPITAL 101
out-patients. Of these, at the most, twelve could be admitted.
About this time there was a wave of interest in lepers.
Father Damien had recently died of the disease, and the
Prince of Wales's Fund had been started. It was a specially
suitable opportunity for pressing a request that we should
be allowed to build a separate hospital for lepers in Kashmir.
This request was favourably received by H.H. the Maha-
rajah, who most kindly granted us an admirable site of about
twelve acres, on a peninsula projecting into the Dal Lake,
and he allotted to us a sum of about 300 for the erection of
the first buildings, and one year's maintenance. This was the
commencement of the present Kashmir State Hospital.
Accommodation was provided for thirty patients, and in the
year 1891, the first year of the work, we had in the summer
months an average of twenty as our leper family. While
looking after their temporal needs we were glad to be
able to tell them of a Home where sin and disease do not
enter in, and where there is no more sorrow but joy for
evermore.
The number of patients increased year by year, and the
thirty beds proved insufficient. In 1894 a small block was
erected to hold eight more, and again in 1895 a second extra
ward for ten more lepers had to be erected. Since that time,
addition after addition has been made to provide for the con-
stantly growing need. In 1899 there were sixty-five patients
in the institution. In 1911 the number had reached one
hundred. The hospital now is quite one of the show places
of Kashmir. It is surrounded on three sides by the blue
waters of the lake, and there is a wonderful panorama of
snow mountains in every direction to which the eye is turned.
The building consists of nine separate lines. Most of these
have red-tiled roofs, and they are provided with verandahs.
In the three last blocks which have been added, there are five
rooms each. Every room has two windows and a little fire-
place, and holds two lepers. The floors have been tiled, and
ample ventilation provided. In the garden around are
102 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
hundreds of young fruit trees which we have planted, and we
also raise crops of wheat, barley, Indian corn and linseed.
The field work is not, however, done by the lepers.
In Kashmir there is no compulsory segregation of lepers.
Those who come to the hospital do so voluntarily, and stay
just as long as they like. For this reason it has been found
difficult to develop industrial work amongst them. It is
important that those who are well enough should have some
occupation. They are therefore expected to keep their own
rooms clean; and odd jobs such as grass-cutting, white-
washing, path-making and so on are encouraged. There is
also a little school for the children (Plate 21). Most of the
lepers come from hill districts around the valley of Kashmir.
Many of them belong to the herdsman class. Leprosy is not
hereditary. It appears to be propagated by a limited con-
tagion among those who live in crowded huts and under in-
sanitary conditions. There are two chief types of the disease.
In one of these there are pale, leprous patches, with loss of
sensation. This form affects fingers and toes, which drop
off, and it appears to correspond more closely with the
leprosy mentioned in the Bible than the other form. The
second form, the so-called tubercular leprosy, is far more
disfiguring. The body is covered with lumps, and, as these
are very numerous on the face, the patients' features are
distorted and sometimes look quite leonine. In many, the
eyes are attacked and incurable blindness follows only too
often. Advanced cases are turned out of their homes
and people refuse to eat with them, so their condition
is very sad. The less marked cases often continue to
live in their villages, and they are a source of danger to
others. I remember once when travelling in a mountainous
part of Kashmir, going to a cottage and asking for some milk.
A man brought me some in his bowl. I was just about to
drink it, when, glancing at the man, I saw that he was a leper.
There are undoubted risks when lepers are mixed with the
population, living, sleeping and eating with healthy people.
THE MISSION HOSPITAL 103
It will at once be perceived that the larger the number ot
lepers in the hospital, the better will it fulfil its intention;
and the longer every leper can be retained in the institution
the better for himself and the rest of the population. The
treatment is chiefly palliative. But many of the lepers im-
prove very much, and in some the disease appears to become
after a time completely arrested. Food, clothing, bedding,
in fact all that they need, is supplied to the lepers; and as
funds admit we are gradually furnishing the whole hospital
with first-rate iron bedsteads.
The spiritual work in the leper hospital has been up-hill,
and in some respects it affords a means of estimating the
difficulty of the work in Kashmir, and the apparent slowness
of progress. In the leper hospital the patients owe practi-
cally everything to Christian work. In their own villages
most of them are outcasts, although the people give them
alms. The contrast in the leper hospital must be very
striking to them. Here they have abundant food and many
comforts, with cosy little rooms and firewood in the winter.
Their wounds are dressed daily, and a friendly interest is
taken in them. When we go to this hospital, after visiting
all the patients, we gather them together and read a portion
of Scripture, following it with simple explanation or a short
evangelistic address. Attendance at this service is voluntary.
In the summer, nearly all come : in the winter, the number
drops to thirty or forty. The patients listen with attention.
They are not good at answering questions; many of them
seem to be afraid lest that should be taken by the others as
an indication of an intention of becoming Christians. From
time to time, however, some have professed their faith, and
have been baptized. These have all been subject to a measure
of persecution from the other lepers, who promptly refuse
to eat with them, and object to live in the same room, and
not infrequently show much bitterness. And yet the very
people who act in this way often say Amen quite fervently at
the close of the prayer with which our service is ended. The
104 BEYOND THE P1R PANJAL
fact is that they are ready to assent to a good deal of Christian
teaching, but object to baptism, because they realize that a
baptized person is no longer one of the great Mohammedan
brotherhood, and is therefore from their standpoint a rene-
gade.
The first to become a Christian in the present leper
hospital was K. K. He is intelligent and independent, and
certainly the best of the lepers. In the first instance he was
influenced largely through reading a copy of the New Testa-
ment which was given to him.
There is still a tendency for the leper hospital work to
grow and increase. Before long I have no doubt that we shall
be able to accommodate more than 100 lepers in the institu-
tion. It is interesting to know that all this work is, owing to the
enlightenment and liberality of the Maharajah of Kashmir,
carried on without any charge whatever upon the funds of
the Church Missionary Society. If there were no Christians
at all, the work would nevertheless be interesting and en-
couraging, for is it not a literal carrying-out of the command
to " heal the sick . . . and say unto them, the Kingdom of
God is come nigh unto you "? And if many of the lepers are
somewhat unresponsive and their gratitude is not always
conspicuous, do we not know of ten lepers who were actually
completely restored to health, and yet of whom only one
stranger returned to give thanks? Who can say that some of
these lepers, taking all their circumstances and the heavy
handicap of disease into consideration, may not be really
nearer the Kingdom than many Christians, who, enjoying
health and the innumerable privileges of a Christian environ-
ment, with all that this means, are nevertheless content to
live lives of luxury and ease, unmindful of the White Man's
Burden, and the great claim of Christian opportunity, which
calls us all to work while it is yet day?
CHAPTER: VIII
VILLAGE LIFE
Forced Labour Land Settlement Rice Cultivation Sericulture
Village Occupations Field Work Horticulture Apiculture Autumn
and Winter Some Common Birds.
THE villages of Kashmir are full of human interest as we
study the people in their natural environment.
The chief village population is found all round the valley
on the higher ground which shelves up to the mountains, on
the slopes below the foot-hills, the deltas of the tributary
valleys and the sides of the karewahs. Here enormous areas
of terraced rice-fields are to be found, stretching from the
alluvial plain up to the base of the mountains. And as we
go a little higher we find whole slopes covered with maize.
The flat tops of the karewahs are used especially for wheat,
barley, mustard and linseed, early crops which come to
maturity before the scorching heat of summer parches the
soil.
The life of Kashmir depends upon its agriculturists.
The population of the Kashmir Province is 1,295,203, and
of these probably more than a million are engaged in agri-
culture. In olden days the interests of the villagers were
largely subordinated to those of the inhabitants of the city
of Srinagar, many of whom were influential and all of whom
were more immediately under the eye of the rulers.
Rice for the city was taken from the villagers at low rates.
They were liable to frequent calls for forced labour. Every
year the levy of coolies for Gilgit placed in the hands of the
Tehsildars (the district magistrates) great powers of oppres-
sion. And from the chief of the local administration down
io6 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
to the humblest peon of the Tehsil this was an unfailing
source of income. Meanwhile, the poor and friendless, or
those who had incurred the wrath of the authorities, were
seized and sent off on the hated task of carrying loads a
thirteen days' journey, over rough mountain tracks to
Gilgit. Their condition was indeed little better than that
of slaves.
" In May 1888 I was on cholera duty in Islamabad. Just
as the epidemic was reaching its height, and hundreds were
dying every day in all the districts around, a levy of 5000
or more coolies was called for. The villagers were almost
distracted with fear. Who would do all the agricultural
work? What would happen, during their long absence, to
their wives and children? To what perils of pestilence and
inclemency of weather would they themselves be exposed
in the crowded bivouacs and snowy passes of the deadly
Gilgit district? I was present at a sort of farewell service
on a maidan outside Islamabad, when nearly 1000 men were
starting. And when they took leave of the friends who had
accompanied them so far, loud was the sobbing of some,
fervid the demeanour of all as, led by the mullah, they in-
toned their prayers and chanted some of their special Ramzan
penitential psalms. Braver men might well have been
agitated at such a time. It is certain that cholera clung to
the camp, and that unburied corpses of hundreds of these
poor * begaris ' marked the whole line of march from Srinagar
to Bunji."
In the year 1882 the State tried the remarkable experi-
ment of auctioning the villages for revenue purposes. The
purchasers in many cases bid amounts which were absurdly
greater than the value of the village revenue, and after
wringing all they could out of the unhappy villagers they
absconded without paying the State a single rupee. This
was bad enough. But to aggravate it the State actually
professed to regard the sum offered at the auction as the real
1 A. Neve, Mission Hospital Reports.
VILLAGE LIFE 107
value of the village tax, and year by year put pressure upon
the unfortunate cultivators with a view to realizing this
fictitious revenue !
The great land settlement, initiated by Sir Andrew Win-
gate in 1887, and carried through by Sir Walter Lawrence
from 1889-1895, changed all this, and from that time the
condition of the villagers has been one of increasing pros-
perity. Two among many evidences of this are the large
areas of new land being annually brought under cultivation,
and the numerous shops, which are springing up in the
villages, stocked with cotton piece goods and other luxuries
or necessities of civilization.
The abolition of the old method of a special low rate
for rice, fixed by Government, was, however, effected too
abruptly. It had been going on for generations, and the life
of the poorer inhabitants of Srinagar was largely dependent
upon cheap food thus obtained. When the market was
thrown open hi 1902, the price of rice rushed up to more than
fourfold, and thousands in the city were threatened by
starvation. The Government was compelled to readjust
the situation and for a time to make grants of cheaper grain
to those who were really poor.
Kashmiri villages are conspicuous in the landscape.
There is usually a group of chenar trees, with light grey
trunks, mottled with pale yellow, and massive curved limbs,
with dense foliage forming dark green masses in summer and
brilliant splashes of light red hi the late autumn. Close by
are two or three lofty poplars and lines of young saplings,
bordering orchards of pear, apple and apricot, or market
gardens enclosed by wattle fences. Mounds covered with
large purple and white irises, brilliant and fragrant in the
sunshine, mark the sites of the old village graveyards, and
the hamlet itself shows as a collection of large high-pitched,
straw-thatched gables, peeping out from among the mul-
berry trees (Plate 22).
These homesteads embowered in trees are surrounded
io8 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
by thousands of acres of arable land, terraced squares and
crescents of rice-field, irrigated from small channels.
Rice ripens up to an altitude of about 7000 feet. It is the
staple crop of Kashmir. There are at least sixty different
varieties with distinct names; but there are two broad
divisions, viz., white and red. The former is considered
greatly superior.
The successful cultivation of rice entails enormous labour.
First of all the fields have to be constructed in terraces so as
to allow of effective irrigation. Channels have to be dug for
the distribution of the water. It is essential, when the rice
has been sown or planted out from the nurseries, that the soil
shall never again get dry. The weeding alone is a tremen-
dous task. Rows of peasants may be seen standing in mud
and water, bent down, scooping out all the adventitious
plants and grasses, and plastering mud round the stalks of the
young rice plants. This goes on day after day under a hot
sun, and the fields have to be carefully and completely
weeded no less than four times a year. Where, however,
the rice plants have been transferred from nurseries, instead
of being sown broadcast, twice is sufficient. This special
weeding is called khushaba.
The Kashmiri is an absolute expert in rice cultivation,
and unless early frost steps in, continuous rain at harvest-
time, or one of the disastrous inundations to which Kashmir
is so liable, there is usually a splendid harvest.
Throughout the valley there is very extensive irrigation.
The water can be taken off at great heights from the tribu-
tary valleys, and there are also a large number of springs.
The distribution is very wide and is said to be conducted on
a system introduced by the Moghuls.
In and around Srinagar and the larger towns and villages
lift irrigation is also carried on largely by means of a long
pole acting as a lever and working on a pivot upon a cross-
piece resting on two uprights, or on the forked branches of a
tree. The short end of the pole carries a large stone as a
VILLAGE LIFE 109
counterpoise, and on to the long end like the line of a fishing-
rod hangs a thick rope with an earthenware bucket attached.
This is rapidly lowered into the river or well by pulling on
the rope and dragging down the end of the pole. When this
is released the weight of the stone raises the bucket which,
as it reaches the level of the ground, is emptied into a long
boat-shaped tray of wood which acts like a funnel and
conducts the water in the required direction. This form
of irrigation is especially useful for market gardens. All the
land really belongs to the State. But hereditary rights
of occupancy have been granted to cultivators who pay
their taxes regularly. They are not, however, allowed under
any circumstances to sell or mortgage their land. This
rule saves them from the clutches of the Hindu banias and
middlemen. And if it is necessary for a villager to raise
money, he can usually do it in advance on his standing
crops.
A certain number of high officers and privileged persons,
such as the Mian Rajputs, the clan of H.H. the Maharajah,
hold estates in Kashmir, which are revenue free and not
under the control of the Forest Department. These are
called Jagirs.
The land revenue actually collected in Kashmir in 1890
was twelve and a half lakhs of rupees (83,715). This is
about what it was in the time of the Emperor Akhbar.
Of recent years, however, although the taxation has
been reduced from fifty to thirty per cent, of the total crops
of the cultivators, the land revenue has greatly increased,
and it is now more than half as much again as it was
in 1890.
Entering the village, we usually find a broad track with
grassy borders bounded by a rippling stream. Grateful
shade is cast by large walnut trees, the deeply fissured and
gnarled trunks of which rise from spreading roots which
encroach on the path. Some of these trees have a girth of
18 feet and more. The houses are mostly two storied, and
no BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
they have a framework of wood which is filled in with sun-
dried or, in the better houses, with red kiln-baked bricks.
Under the thatched roofs is an airy space with stores of grass
and firewood, and sometimes silkworms. The eggs of the
latter are imported from France and to a less extent from
Italy, and about 30,000 ounces are distributed annually to
villagers, who place them in the roofs or rooms of their
houses and hatch them. The young are then fed on the
leaves of the mulberry trees which are so common. The
cocoons when ready are purchased by the silk factory.
In this way as much as 3,200,000 Ibs. may be brought in
by the villagers in one year, for which the Department of
Sericulture pays over Rs. 600,000 (about 40,000). This
goes to about thirty-five thousand villagers, giving them
on an average nearly Rs. n/ each, which makes it quite
worth their while, as this is equivalent to at least two
months' wages for an ordinary Kashmiri cultivator.
Most of the houses have a front verandah to the upper
story in which the people live for the greater part of the
year, and at one end of which is a little kitchen with clay
fireplace. The inner rooms, chiefly used in winter, are dark
and almost unventilated. The ground floor is often set
apart entirely for cattle and sheep. If this arrangement
secures warmth for the dwellers above, it is at some sacrifice
of sweetness. Every village has several granaries, small
square wooden buildings, the floor of which is raised a few
feet above the ground. And not far away is sure to be a
village shrine (Astan) often on an eminence and usually
with fine old trees hi the vicinity. The Mosque is probably
near by, and in its roof may be seen the wooden bier in which
the dead are carried to the graveyard to be interred without
a coffin. At daybreak and at sunset the voice of the muezzin
sounds out, calling the faithful to prayer, and soon a small
congregation gathers and the Imam conducts the Namaz.
In some mosques the congregation chant their prayers
almost in Gregorian style.
VILLAGE LIFE in
Often the sides of the houses are festooned with bright
rows of red chillies or split turnips, golden maize cobs and
dried apples.
In the courtyard in front of a house we see two women
busily engaged in pounding the unhusked rice in a large
wooden mortar with pestles 5 feet long. First one straightens
herself, lifts the pestle as high as she can, and then bending
suddenly brings it down with a crash. Then the other
woman facing her does the same. This is perhaps one of
the commonest sights in the village. On a stretch of green,
there is a row of upright sticks at intervals of 2 feet. These
are for weaving purposes. One of the villagers may be seen
walking up and down rapidly winding from a spindle a thread
of cotton in and out of these stakes. In the verandah an
old woman is seated with masses of snow-white cotton-wool
in front of her, from which, with the aid of a curious old
wheel, she is spinning excellent thread. A peep through
the window of another house shows a rough loom in which
woollen blankets are woven. This is one of the staple village
industries. A common arrangement is for the local shop-
keeper to advance money on the promise of repayment in
blankets and garden produce.
According to the Kashmiris there are six seasons in the
year, each of two months. " Wandh," with a somewhat
similar sound, corresponds to our English winter, or at least
with the time from I5th November till I5th January.
During this period and on till the end of March, the first
ploughing for wheat and barley is done. Then rice, maize
and the other autumn crops are threshed; and when the
snow falls towards the end of December the people weave
woollen blankets, and attend to their sheep and cattle.
" Sont " is the period from I5th March to ist May. This
is an extremely busy time. The fields have to be ploughed
and manured for rice and maize. And then these are sown.
In many villages the rice is sown in nurseries, and the seed-
lings are planted out when they are nearly a foot high.
ii2 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
Broadcast sowing gives better crops but entails considerably
more labour in weeding. The wheat and barley harvest
begins in the valley at the end of May, and during the whole
summer the harvest goes on at the various altitudes. Linseed
is a little later than wheat. From July to September the pea-
sants are busy in the fields weeding the rice, maize and cotton.
The last is a very pretty crop, with its large yellow
flowers followed by snowy tufts. The real harvest of
Kashmir comes on in September and October, called by
the Kashmiris the season of " Hard." It is then that the
rice and maize, millet, sesame, amaranth and other autumn
crops are gathered in. And now the fruit trees are laden,
and before long from all parts of the valley strings of ponies
may be met, and lines of coolies carrying baskets of apples
and pears and sacks of walnuts, most of which will find their
way to Baramula and be exported from there by cart to
the plains of India.
At harvest-time all round the valley, but especially near
the fringe of the forest, the villagers are troubled by the
depredations of bears. The fields of maize and the fruit
on the trees are a great attraction. To guard their crops
the people erect " machans " little roofed platforms twelve
to twenty feet above the ground. Here they sit and watch
at night and blow trumpets, beat drums, old kerosene tins,
or anything else which will make a noise. And at the same
time they emit blood-curdling yells, or piercing whistles,
all with the object of terrifying the nocturnal robbers. The
combined effect of fifty or a hundred people thus engaged
at night over a comparatively small area of cultivated land
is somewhat suggestive of pandemonium.
Kashmir is particularly rich in fruit trees. Many of
these are indigenous and found wild in the forests. The
people are quite clever at grafting. The stock is cut off
rather low, and into the end three or four scions are wedged
and supported by clay surrounded by birch bark. Ring
budding is also successfully practised. In addition to the
VILLAGE LIFE 113
ordinary fruit trees, currants, raspberries and gooseberries
are found wild. Apricots are also common. The fruit has
been all immensely improved by cultivation and the intro-
duction of choice varieties.
The grapes are rather disappointing. In the valley,
rapid night radiation hi the autumn, and the heavy dew,
together with the great sun heat in the day, appear to favour
blight and other disease. At the mouth of the Sind valley
there are some good vineyards producing delicious white
and red dessert grapes.
On the east side of the Dal Lake there are about 400 acres
of wine grapes, and at the distillery, under M. Peychaud's
skilled supervision, wines of the Barsac and Medoc type are
produced. The vintage varies much from year to year. It
is said that the soil is deficient hi iron and phosphates, and
that the frequent difficulty in obtaining perfectly ripe grapes
affects both the quality and keeping powers of the wine.
Hops grow well in Kashmir. In the summer the growth
is very rapid. A market is found for them hi the Murree
and other breweries.
A large number of sheep are kept by peasants who live
in the valley. These all have to be sent up to the hill pastures
in the summer to escape the intense heat and get fresh
grazing. They are entrusted to shepherds who bring them
back again in the autumn and receive two per cent, of the
flock if it is intact. They are also paid in rice and are
allowed all the butter made from the sheep's milk.
The cows, which are numerous in the villages, are small,
and they usually appear to be half starved. They seldom
give more than six pints of milk a day. A cow may be bought
for about twenty rupees.
In the sides of some of the houses in the villages we see
a circle with a hole in the centre into which bees are seen to
be crowding. These are the Kashmir hives.
They are merely earthenware cylinders, about 2 feet
long, and built into the wall. The outside end of the hive
n 4 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
has a central hole about an inch across, or sometimes a series
of small holes in a circle. The inner end has an earthenware
lid fitted over it and sealed on with clay. No artificial feed-
ing is done in the summer, but in winter the bees are sup-
plied with food. No special measures are, however, taken
to protect them from the cold, and the mortality is often
very great. In many villages, after a severe winter, when
the temperature sometimes falls to zero Fahrenheit, more
than three-quarters of the colonies will perish. Under
favourable conditions strong colonies are formed. Early in
May the swarms issue. One hive may give off as many as
six, weighing from two to four pounds each. The villagers
usually expect the swarms to settle and hive themselves in
one of the numerous empty wall hives. The bees are not
accustomed to English hives, and it is extremely difficult to
retain them. In many cases it appears advisable to fit a
strip of queen excluder zinc across the entrance to prevent
the queen from leaving. Usually this can be safely removed
after two or three weeks. But I have frequently lost swarms
in spite of this precaution. One colony left the hive and
deserted its brood two months after it had been introduced.
This was, however, due to persistent attacks of bee-
robbers. Where Kashmir bees are kept in wooden hives
there seems to be an unusual amount of fighting and robbing.
The local earthenware hives do not appear to attract out-
siders. Hornets, however, are often seen attempting to get
in. The wooden hives perhaps emit an odour from their
joints, for they are pestered by hornets, worried by robbers,
and sometimes in the spring a swarm will descend upon an
already occupied hive.
The Kashmiris understand something of the management
of queens. They sometimes secure a restless queen by tying
a fine thread to one of her legs and pinning her to the comb.
Sometimes, too, they change queens, and they cut out
queen cells quite cleverly.
Two harvests may be obtained, one in June and the other
VILLAGE LIFE 115
in October. The back of the hive is opened and smoke is
blown in, and the combs are rapidly cut out. The bees are
gentle, so comparatively few are killed. No proper care is
usually taken of brood comb, and insufficient supplies are
often left for the survivors. Sulphur is, however, not used.
The bees are wonderfully tame. I have often manipu-
lated them without the use of any subduer. As in Europe,
there appear to be two chief varieties the yellow bee and a
darker kind. In the yellow variety there is a fairly broad
transverse stripe on the back, with four parallel pale yellow
bands below. The ventral surface of the abdomen is yellow,
and the thorax is covered with light brown fur. The lowest
stripe is a little broader at the middle, which makes the bee
look as if it had a white tail. The wings when folded reach
to the lower margin of this stripe.
Wild bees appear to be yellower and to have slightly
longer bodies than the domesticated varieties. I have seen
them as high as 12,000 feet above sea-level. The favourite
altitude for wild colonies is between 5500 and 7000 feet.
It is too hot for them in the valley in the summer; but all
round the hills in the mountain villages they thrive. The
forests are full of wild balsams and the slopes are covered with
wild sage. So great is the attraction of the mountain and
forest flowers that many swarms desert the valley in the
spring but return to their village hives again in September.
Both hornets and ants are troublesome enemies. When
hornets threaten the hive the bees come out and form com-
pact groups, and as the enemy approaches they lower their
heads and, with a peculiar quivering movement, turn their
tails with the sting exposed towards the intruder, who
usually veers off. Hornets, however, sometimes carry off
one or even two bees at a time. Occasionally a bee with bold
spirit takes decisive action. Perhaps, like Sir Nigel Loring,
she regards the hornet as a " courteous and worthy person
with whom some small bickering may be had." Or possibly,
Marcus Curtius like, she seeks, by sacrificing herself, to save
u6 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
the whole community. I have seen a bee suddenly dash out
from the armed circle of defenders and pierce a formidable
hornet four times her own size, inflicting a fatal wound.
But all are not so courageous, for one day I placed a dead
hornet on the alighting-board when the sentry had gone in
for a moment. A casual bee coming out for an evening walk
suddenly and unexpectedly caught sight of the orange-
coloured monster, gave a most dramatic start, and then
hastened back to her own quarters. Whether she spread
the alarming news I know not, but almost at once a fierce
and stalwart worker emerged and, single-handed, seized the
unwelcome intruder and threw him off the platform. In
their behaviour toward ants bees seem rather timid. Ignor-
ing them unless they come quite near, they even then appear
to chase them with some apprehension lest the ant should
turn and seize them by the nose.
Large ants are the most formidable of all foes. They will
sometimes raid a hive like a band of Masai warriors attack-
ing a village. There is a large black variety half an inch long,
with powerful mandibles, with which they literally cut off
the bees' heads. Should an invasion of these occur, the bees
will leave the hive, but not before large numbers have been
massacred. Fortunately the defence is easy, as it is only
necessary to stand the legs of the hive in water.
No one in Kashmir has yet succeeded in getting bees to
work properly in the upper sections of a standard frame hive.
It will be interesting to see whether the introduction of
English or Italian queens will result in greater industry, or
whether their progeny, too, will succumb to the somewhat
enervating influence of the climate and the summer and
autumn droughts.
As the autumn draws on in Kashmir the days remain
bright and hot, but the cold at nights becomes increasingly
intense. Early in September excellent snipe-shooting is to
be obtained, and large numbers of duck begin to fly over the
valley. On some of the lakes wild waterfowl are very
VILLAGE LIFE 117
abundant. In 1906 Lord Minto and the Viceregal party shot
1500 duck in one day on the Hukra Jheel. When shooting is
going on, the duck rise from the lakes and marshes in clouds
and wheel round hi tens of thousands, some at a great height.
After the middle of October the leaves rapidly change
their colour. Poplars and mulberries become lemon-yellow,
chenars a pure light red, and apples and pears orange and
crimson. At this season the willows are pollarded and their
saplings and leaves stored for whiter fodder for the flocks.
In the hedges blackberries are abundant. In the evenings
at this time of the year a blue mist hangs over the valley and
round the foot of the mountains, which take on exceedingly
rich orange-coloured tints as the sun sets.
In the winter snow usually falls in the third week of
December. After that, sometimes for six weeks, the whole
country is snow-bound, clouds settle down upon the moun-
tains and there is no sunshine. The cold then becomes very
great. Occasionally the Dal Lake is frozen sufficiently to
bear. I have on two occasions skated from the distillery
at the south end to beyond the Nassim Bagh, 3 miles to the
north-west. It is not, however, very safe, as there are warm
springs.
Every morning, during the winter, thousands of jackdaws
leave the city and fly in dense clouds out into the country in
search of food. About five o'clock in the evening they re-
turn. In fine weather they fly high. If, however, the
weather is threatening, they skim just over the tops of the
houses and trees. It is interesting to watch their flight.
The whole army appears to be composed of divisions. As
they advance, a cloud of scouts is thrown out in front. On
reaching the outskirts of the city the front battalions settle
on groups of trees in such numbers that the whole tree be-
comes black and the branches are weighed down. When the
rear divisions arrive there is much wheeling and manoeuvring
and evidently different clans occupy distinct trees, for which
sometimes active skirmishing is carried on. When, however,
n8 BEYOND THE FIR PANJAL
the last stragglers have arrived, the whole force rises in a dark
cloud and makes its way to the city, where the night is spent
roosting in trees and under the eaves of houses.
The valley of Kashmir is remarkably calm. With the
exception of thunderstorms in the summer and occasional
gales early in March, it is extremely rare to have a windy day.
The rainfall varies much from year to year. It is usually
between twenty-five and thirty-five inches. The heaviest
rain is ordinarily towards the end of July, corresponding to
the full development of the monsoon in North India, and it
is then that there is great danger of floods.
One of the commonest of Kashmir birds in the villages is
the white-cheeked bulbul. These have a graceful feather
crest curving forwards and nearly 2 inches long. They are
quite domesticated and often come indoors, perching on
tables and chairs or even on the edge of a tea-cup, the sugar
at the bottom of which has special attractions for them.
With a little trouble they can be taught to catch crumbs
thrown in the air, and they will perch on the back of one's
hand. Swallows are exceedingly common. They usually
arrive in March and build their nests in April and May.
Small game is not nearly so common in Kashmir as might
be expected. There are no hares nor wild rabbits in the
valley. On the hills the chikor partridge is common. It
belongs to the genus of rock or sand partridges, and is found
usually just above the line of cultivation among the rocks.
Coveys are often seen in the fields at harvest-time, and
they are met with up to an altitude of 9000 feet. The monal
pheasant is the most handsome of all Kashmir birds. The
cock is magnificent, with rich peacock-blue plumage with
golden-red sheen. These pheasants are not very common.
They live chiefly at the upper margins of the forests.
The valley is infested with rats. In the summer they live
in the fields and farmyards. In the winter they crowd into
the houses and do immense mischief. They would be still
more numerous were it not for the large number of half-wild
VILLAGE LIFE 119
cats which take up their abode in the roofs and basements of
the houses and do valuable service. It is an interesting fact
that when Kashmir was attacked by plague there was no
evidence of any rat infection.
As we walk through the village we notice the little shop,
the tawny-yellow or black dogs stealthily walking about, the
flocks of ducks busy gobbling in the stream and the little
bathing-houses close by.
Ploughing is done with small bullocks and the ploughs are
small, for deep furrows are unnecessary. Rice cultivation is
the great interest of most of the inhabitants of the valley.
It speaks well for the fertility of Kashmir that although there
is only one annual rice crop, in good years excellent rice may
be bought at a halfpenny per pound.
It is hi the villages that we see the real Kashmir life.
The language, dress, complexion, manners and customs of the
people here are quite distinct from those of any other country.
Probably few people have undergone less change hi the march
of the centuries than this nation, in its isolated valley, sepa-
rated by gigantic mountain ranges from all the countries
around and, until the last quarter of a century, connected
with India only by a rough bridle track more than a hundred
miles long.
CHAPTER IX
MEDICAL MISSION CAMP WORK
On the March Methods of Work Worship of Sacred Places The
Pirs The Great Flood Relief Work.
Go with the spiritual life, the higher volition and action,
With the great girdle of God, go and encompass the earth !
Not for the gain of the gold, for the getting, the hoarding, the having,
But for the joy of the deed ; but for the Duty to do !
CLOUGH.
To come into really close contact with the people it is neces-
sary to go and live among them. This can be done by going
into camp. Firstly we gather together a good supply of
medicines. These and our surgical instruments, dressings,
tents, bedding, clothes, etc., are packed up into separate
bundles, altogether about ten in number. Next day they are
all put on board one of the flat-bottomed river-boats. We
embark, with a dispenser and a surgical assistant, and
quietly drift down the stream. Presently night comes, but
our boat continues its course, one or two strokes of the
paddle at the back, every now and then, keeping the bows
straight. Early the next morning we come to an immense
stretch of water, the Wular Lake. The boatmen always
cross this with great trepidation, as it is exposed to severe
storms which sometimes come on suddenly and are occa-
sionally destructive to life. Under favourable circumstances
we reach the other side by midday. The next step is to
obtain porters to carry our baggage over the mountain-
passes. The following morning we make an early start and
begin climbing up steep grassy slopes. Then the path
enters a great pine forest. As we approach the summit
120
MEDICAL MISSION CAMP WORK 121
of the pass, looking back, we obtain a magnificent view of
the Wular Lake, glittering in the sunshine, 3000 feet below,
with the Vale of Kashmir extending away into the dim
distance beyond.
Crossing the ridge, we descend gradually through dense
fir forest until the trees begin to get thinner and more
scattered.
Kashmir has its backwoods stretches of sloping hillsides,
partly under cultivation, with green patches of Indian corn
rudely fenced hi by primitive hedges of broken tree trunks.
Here and there are groups of blackened tree trunks. Close
by is the margin of the great forest, home of the bear and
leopard. Troops of monkeys may be seen, swinging from
tree to tree, or grouped in grassy glades, munching wild
apples, green walnuts, or any other forest fruits upon which
they can put their paws. Sometimes they are so near that you
are tempted to chase them. If you do so you will find that
instead of running off along the ground where they could
easily outdistance you, they will almost at once take to some
high tree, perhaps a fir, up which they will run till they
reach the top branches, where they sit and calmly survey
you to see what you intend to do next. The settlers who
live in the flat, earthen-roofed log huts, which are scattered
about in the newly-reclaimed fields, have to reckon with
these predatory bands, which systematically rob their crops.
It was in such a district as this that I took up my quarters
for a short time in the month of May. The hut in which I
was staying is on the very border of the forest. Behind
lay a fringe of blue pines, with cedars and spruce trees, gradu-
ally becoming more and more dense. In front was the dark
brown of the rich newly turned-up soil ; a li ttle further away
the gleam of flooded rice-fields ; and here and there a grove
of walnut trees, from among which peep out the roofs and
walls of dark brown log huts.
The news soon spreads that the doctor has arrived. And
early in the morning little groups of expectant patients may
122 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
be seen sitting beneath the pine trees. Their numbers are
continually being added to, until at last there may be as
many as a hundred and fifty or two hundred people.
Herdsmen there are, and numbers of ordinary Kashmiri
peasants; a sprinkling of Punjabis, who have come as emi-
grants ; two or three Hindus, distinguishable by the vertical
reddish-yellow mark on their foreheads; and shyly holding
aloof there are also groups of women, some clad in dirty grey
gowns which were once white, and others, the wives and
daughters of Gujars, dressed in dark blue.
Our stock of medicines and instruments is arranged on a
table and all the scattered clumps of people are gathered
together in a semicircle facing the doctor, who briefly ex-
plains to them all his object in visiting the district; that he
has come to endeavour to help those who are sick; that he
has come from the well-known hospital at Drogjun, Srinagar.
Here, perhaps, one or two of those present say that they
have been there, and were with us for some time, and were
kindly treated and got well. Resuming, the doctor goes on
to say that he has also come to tell them all the Good News
of the Gospel of Christ. Here some one present interrupts
and is understood to say that this was what he heard when he
was in the hospital, and that it was good doctrine. The
doctor then reads some short passage to the assembled crowd,
which is being constantly augmented by fresh arrivals,
and in simple phrases in their own Kashmiri language tells
them the old story of the sinfulness of man, the love of God
and its manifestation in our Saviour Christ. The audience
listens with marked attention, and as the doctor closes with
the words that the work which is done at the hospital at
Drogjun and which is also going to be done in their midst is
the work of Christ, because it is at His command, in His
name, by His servants and for His honour, there is a murmur
of assent. After a short prayer for the blessing of God upon
the work and the people, the medical part of the work is
begun and goes on till all present have been seen.
MEDICAL MISSION CAMP WORK 123
Their ailments are very various. Some have old-standing
indigestion or chronic coughs. Others are suffering from
ophthalmia or from various parasitic diseases. The latter
are largely propagated by infected drinking-water. And
young children are specially liable to suffer. In most Kash-
miri villages the juvenile population, instead of being strong,
well, and of a healthy colour, is pale and unwholesome looking.
Skin diseases, too, largely due to dirt, abound. A good
many surgical cases are usually brought to us. And from a
professional standpoint these are the most satisfactory of all,
as we can usually either put them right at once, or give them
a note of admission to the central hospital.
The work in some of its aspects, although arduous, is
not without its touch of humour. In one part of the arena
a line of children will be seen waiting for their dose of santonin
and castor oil, which is administered in such a way as to
remind one of the ministrations at Dotheboys Hall. Sitting
under a tree may be seen an enthusiastic patient, carefully
scraping with his forefinger the remains of castor oil from a
red earthenware cup and consuming it with apparent relish.
Public interest reaches a high pitch when an operation is to be
done, and it is impossible to exclude unprofessional specta-
tors. Perhaps some small tumour is removed, or a series oi
cases of in-turned eyelashes is operated upon, teeth are ex-
tracted, or small abscesses lanced. I often wonder whether
our antiseptic precautions are not regarded as some kind of
special ritual. If chloroform has to be administered the
interest reaches its high-water mark, and a hush falls upon
the onlookers. Next day the crowd is larger than ever,
and if many days are spent at one centre the numbers are apt
to become so great as to be almost unmanageable.
The importance and value of periodic tours in the out-
lying districts of Kashmir are obvious. Not only do these
bring us into touch with remote villages, and enable us to
attend to those who may require skilled treatment, but they
also quicken the flow of patients from the villages to the
124 BEYOND THE P1R PANJAL
hospital, where treatment can be carried out under the most
favourable conditions, and where in the wards there is daily
Christian instruction.
It is easy enough for those who live near the river to
come in to the hospital, even if their homes are distant.
But there are many remote mountain valleys which are
difficult of access. A mountain pass more than 2000 feet
high is a serious obstacle for any one who is blind, lame
or otherwise disabled. Hence the recurring visits of the
medical missionary are hailed with delight.
And year by year Christian teaching and the healing art
have thus been carried to all parts of Kashmir. " In the
Wazir Garden at Islamabad, under the chenar groves at
Pampoor, by the broad placid river at Sopur, in the visitors'
bungalow at Baramula, the busy portal of ' the Happy
Valley,' hi the stately gardens at Vernag and Achibal, by
the sacred tank at Bawan, below the great mosque at Eish-
makam, among the walnut trees and orchards of sequestered
mountain villages, have the message of Divine love and
the ministry of healing been brought to the sinful and the
sick."
In Kashmir there is very little fanaticism. In some
respects the toleration is surprising. The friendly relations
existing between Mohammedans and Hindus are remark-
able, and partly to be explained by the fact that many
Hindu customs have survived, even among Mohammedans.
At the present time the Mohammedans greatly outnumber
the Hindus in Kashmir, forming 93 per cent, of the total
population. Forcibly converted from Hinduism in the
fourteenth century, they still retain some indications of
their original faith. The most striking of these is their
affection for sacred places. Thus both religions have this
important feature in common. For the Hindus also resort
to springs, tanks and lakes. " Although great Pan be dead
in Greece, the twilight of the gods is not yet in Kashmir.
Every grove has its familiar deity; every clear spring or
125
rushing torrent its water-nymph." Not a few Mohammedan
shrines have been placed on the sites of former Hindu sacred
springs, and the worship has been continuous, although
changed in form.
A large number of villages have each their own shrine,
usually the grave of some Mohammedan saint of bygone
days.
Often one tank will have a Hindu " Astan " on one side
and a Mohammedan " Ziarat " on the other. Recently,
when on tour, I pitched my tent on a peninsula, in the
middle of a tank, and the droning sound of a Hindu
chanting his Shasters on one side and of a Moham-
medan Darwesh reciting the Koran on the other side,
seldom ceased.
In this respect the worship of Hindus and Mohammedans
is similar. Indeed an easy transition seems to have oc-
curred, when the Hindus embraced Islam, under Moham-
medan pressure, and their devotion was transferred from
the spring to the tomb. The oldest Mohammedan shrines
now existing may be traced back to about the fourteenth
century. Devotion to, reverence for, and implicit trust in
the village shrine play a much larger part in the religious life
of the average Kashmiri Mohammedan than any special
regard for the Koran or its teaching. And although the
name of Mohammed is reverenced by the people they know
little about him. It is the shrine which protects from dis-
ease and disaster, and to it they look for aid in any enter-
prise or in times of stress. Gifts are brought to it by the
villagers fowls, rice, ghee and sometimes money. The cus-
todians of the tombs are usually descendants of the " holy "
man interred therein. They are called Pirs or Pirzadas,
and wield considerable influence. They can usually read,
and a common arrangement is for them to take turns in
conducting the worship of the village mosque. Besides re-
ceiving the offerings of the faithful, they eke out a rather
precarious livelihood by making and selling charms. These
126 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
consist of a short verse of the Koran, or even an undecipher-
able scribble on a scrap of Kashmir paper, folded up and
stitched in a little piece of cloth or leather perhaps two
inches long and one and a half broad. This is tied round
the neck of the applicant, or round one of his arms. If
there is disease of the foot or leg the amulet may be found
attached to the ankle or knee. In cases of illness the Pirza-
das are usually called in and they recite prayers and issue
fresh charms. The common people have great faith in these
Pirs. One of the villagers, referring to the plague, which had
not invaded the isolated mountain district in which his
village was situated, said to me, " It has not come here, sir,
the Pirs here have mighty powers."
Sometimes when we are camped in a village, the Pirs
shun us. At others they are friendly, and come and listen to
the preaching, and are willing to accept and even pay for
little books. Occasionally they raise objections to the
teaching, or ask questions which are not always relevant.
In talking to them, one of the most useful arguments is the
sinlessness of Our Lord. For what is required is something
to show them that Christ is not as they claim, only one of a
select number of great prophets, who were equal and are all
mediators.
THE GREAT FLOOD
" As on my return from a tour to Kishtiwar, on a cloudless
June morning, I looked from a snowy pass westward for 100
miles across the great basin of the Kashmir valley, with its
ripening wheat and young green maize, and the glitter of its
streams and the soft blue haze of its distant towns, I little
dreamt that in a few days there would be the highest flood
recorded for many generations.
" Even before the heavy rain, the Wular Lake was already
at its flood level, from the melting of the exceptional snows of
last winter. Then came two heavy downpours, with but
MEDICAL MISSION CAMP WORK 127
three days' interval. In the side valleys the bridges were
swept away, and as the clouds cleared, we learnt by the tele-
graph that the river had risen 30 feet at the head of the valley,
Islamabad. Steadily the water rose, overlapping the lofty
embankments which protect the towns and cultivated areas.
With ample warning the people fled from all the lower
ground, carrying their little household effects. It was
beautiful, but cruel ; those ever- widening, ever-rising stretches
of rippling, gleaming water, then the crash of the cataract
and of falling houses, as the flood broke through or lapped
over an embankment and swept down in resistless power,
involving gardens and palings and outhouses in one common
ruin. There was much to be done in the way of salvage at
the English Church, at the library which fell, crushing thou-
sands of volumes into the muddy water, and hi other places.
And it was a strange sight to be rowing about the Munshi
Bagh in which we live, trying to avoid the masses of wreckage
swept along by the swift current, and steer one's way among
the upper branches of fruit trees, or past the half-submerged
roofs of huts.
" The hospital, so splendidly situated on the western spur
of the Takht Hill, was at once the refuge for many, and every
possible part of it was occupied to overflowing, while the
surrounding slopes were covered with refuge camps, and the
road blocked with ekkas and carriages. At the foot of the hill
house-boats and barges were moored, and rafts of timber were
floating about. The scene was one of picturesque beauty,
for the weather was brilliant. Among the hospital inmates
were all sorts and conditions of men, Europeans, Parsees,
Sikhs, Kashmiri officials and military officers as well as the
usual variety of patients. For the first few days we must
have numbered over 200 persons. There was almost a
water famine, for the water pipes had been carried away
and provisions were very scarce. We were soon active in
relief work, for hundreds were homeless, and some destitute.
A wealthy and philanthropic Parsee, Mr Dhanjibhoy, C.I.E.^
128 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
generously bought large quantities of grain in the Punjab
and sent it up for us to sell at a low price; so a grain shop
was opened at the hospital, of which Mr Knowles took the
charge, and this rice or flour was sold below cost price to
those whose houses had been destroyed. In addition to the
work thus done by the Mission, there was another larger relief
fund. The Kashmir State also gave a large amount of wood
for the purpose of rebuilding. By invitation of the Resident,
I took charge of an area of about 200 square miles of flooded
district between the city and the Wular Lake. Much of my
work had to be done by boat, as the water was still very high,
and some of the villages surrounded by marshes had to be
reached partly by wading. In the course of a month I
visited about 100 villages, distributing Rs. 4000 of the State
Relief Fund, issuing orders on the Forest Department for
timber, and also orders for water-chestnuts, of which a large
crop soon became available. Later on I was joined by Pan-
dit Radha Kishen, formerly Chief Justice, and by Colonel
G. Young, C.B. As the news of this relief spread, villagers,
who had deserted their ruined homes and fled to the hills, or
gone for work to the towns, began to return and collect
materials and rebuild some kind of shelter from the weather.
We found intense poverty in the lower villages where people
were eking out an existence on herbs and the stalks of water-
lilies. In one village but three families out of twenty had
any kind of grain. Fortunately at that time the flocks were
all on the mountains, and so were safe out of harm's way.
There is much recuperative power in Kashmir villages, and
with the help of grants of wood most were rebuilt before the
winter.
" In my work I received considerable help from the higher
State officials, and on one occasion, having run out of money, I
bicycled up to the city and called on the Private Secretary to
the Maharajah, and His Highness gave me Rs. 500 from his
private purse to go on with. Mr Knowles and Mr Tyndale-
Biscoe were doing similar work in and around the city, and
MEDICAL MISSION CAMP WORK 129
we were glad to be in a position to help relieve such a catas-
trophe.
" The Medical Missionary needs to give a wide and liberal
interpretation of his marching orders. Sanitation claims
a place in the functions of the physician in all lands, not least
amid the filth of the Orient."
1 A. Neve, Mission Hospital Reports.
CHAPTER X
r ",
A GLIMPSE OF KASHMIRI TIBET
The Sind Valley A Delayed Post The Zoji Pass Dras and the
Dards Kargyl The Battle of Pashkyum Valley Moulbe Sculpture
Ldmoydro Monastery A Weird Orchestra Chunrezig The Bon Chos
Assassination of Langdarma A Laddkhi Village.
IT was on a beautiful day towards the end of May that I
started on a journey to Leh. This town is the capital of
Ladakh, a barren but very picturesque and interesting
country in the midst of the Himalaya mountains between
Kashmir and Chinese Tibet.
Turning our backs on the little European settlement
at Srinagar, on the stately but sluggish river Jhelum, and
leaving behind us the great line of glistening peaks which
bound the valley of Kashmir on the south, separating it
from the plains of India by a mountain barrier 150 miles
wide, we rode out to Kangan, the first large village in the
Sind valley, on the great high-road to Ladakh, Tibet and
China. At Kangan the valley is about a mile across.
The Sind River is a deep and rushing stream, fed by
melting snows in the regions to which we are going. The
road wends its way up this valley, sometimes close to the
river, at others climbing over spurs or traversing patches
of gloomy forest, again emerging and like an English country
lane, bounded by rough hedgerows, rich with honeysuckle,
jessamine and wild roses. Every few miles we pass a village
nestling in walnut and mulberry trees; the fruit of the latter,
which is ripe, is eagerly consumed by the juvenile population,
which grows visibly fatter in the mulberry season. Horses,
130
A GLIMPSE OF KASHMIRI TIBET 131
cows, sheep, goats and even dogs may be seen greedily de-
vouring the fruit as it lies on the ground. At night, too,
bears, attracted by the sweet juicy berries, sometimes come
down and climb the trees. The next part of the route has
an alpine beauty and passes through upland meadows
brilliant with flowers ragwort, larkspur, balsams, colum-
bines and anemones, with a background of fir forest. This
in its turn presents a dark serrated edge against the atmos-
pheric mauve, from which rise snowy peaks and slopes like
burnished silver.
Not long ago Rahmana, a postal runner, was carrying
his mail-bag along this road. He had it slung over his back
in a blanket. Suddenly he felt a violent blow from behind
which knocked him over. On turning round he saw a large
black bear standing over him. Shouting for help, he caught
hold of his post-bag, which the bear was proceeding to
examine, and tried to run away; but this unfortunately
directed the foe's attention to him, and the bear, sitting up
in its characteristic posture for attack, struck him a violent
blow in the face with its right paw. Rahmana fell down
again and would very likely have ended his days there and
then, if some villagers, hearing his shouts, had not rushed
up. The bear, seeing their numbers, judged that discretion
was the better part of valour and fled. Rahmana was
carried on a bedstead 20 miles to the Mission Hospital.
I met him at Kangan some months afterwards when he had
quite recovered, although he was sadly scarred and dis-
figured. " Thrice," he said, " during the first night at the
hospital the night nurse came to see whether I was still
breathing and thinking I might be dead, I was so weak."
He spent several weeks with us and was most grate-
ful. The Christian instruction which he had received
from day to day had evidently impressed him, and he
will, I know, give us a warm welcome whenever we visit
his village.
Leaving Kangan, we passed the place where the day
1 32 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
before, the road being bad, a pack-pony belonging to Major
D , a sportsman, had fallen into the river and been
swept away. The whole of that pony's baggage was lost,
including rifles and money. As we went on, the valley
became narrower and the sides steeper. Clouds had been
gathering, and suddenly a terrific storm came on, the
thunder rolling round and reverberating among the cliffs
and mountains. The rain continued, and we were soon
thoroughly drenched and our baggage (on pack-ponies)
well soaked. The water was running off the ground
in sheets and night was coming on. Pitching tents was
out of the question, so we took shelter in a house in
the village of Revil. The owner, who was sitting hi a kind
of verandah, swept it out for us and here we established
ourselves.
The next day being Sunday, we made a halt, and soon
found that sick people were beginning to arrive. So we un-
packed our medicine boxes and soon all the village had
gathered round. Amongst others was a former hospital
patient, who, like Rahmana, had been attacked and severely
mauled by a bear. He brought a present of honey and then
proceeded in Oriental fashion to descant to the assembled
crowd on the excellences of the Mission Hospital and how
well he was treated there.
Great wreaths of white cloud were drifting along the
hillsides and the fresh snow was quite near us. But the
next day, in spite of rain, we pushed on.
A few miles further up the geological formation is in-
teresting and characteristic. From just below Gagangair
in the S.W. in ascending order, as we march up the gorge
N.E. to Sonamarg, we notice schistose slates, quartzite,
lower carboniferous (syringothyris) limestone, agglomeratic
slate, with traces of fenestella beds and Punjal trap. Finally,
at Sonamarg, above all, are permo-carboniferous layers and
muschelkalk. In the latter, fossil Ptychites have been
found by Stolkza and by Middlemiss. The latter points
23. THE ZOJI LA PASS.
A GLIMPSE OF KASHMIRI TIBET 133
out that the sections of the Lidar valley show exactly
the same sequence.
The scenery was now very fine. The valley became
narrower and narrower until at last it formed a great rift
or chasm, with the river foaming at the bottom. Our road,
which was several hundred feet above it, was carefully built
on the steep hillside. Opposite it were beetling cliffs nearly
a mile high, with here and there between them patches
of gloomy pine forest. Two more days brought us to
the foot of the Zoji Pass, the boundary between fertile
Kashmir, with its flowery meadows and dense forests and
the barren rainless upland valleys of Dras and Ladakh
(Plate 23).
The top of the Zoji La Pass is about 11,200 feet above
sea-level, and although easy in the summer and autumn,
when the path ascends through graceful birch woods and
over green slopes studded with pink primulas or brilliant
red potentillas, it is difficult to cross in the winter or spring
on account of the deep snow. Rising at 3.30 a.m., we had
not gone far before our difficulties commenced. The snow
was too slippery for laden ponies, and in places snow bridges
had broken away. We were obliged to unload, and, with the
aid of some hardy mountaineers, carried our baggage over
the difficult and dangerous places. Presently the snow
seemed harder and we again loaded the ponies, but even
then, ever and anon, one would fall through up to his girths.
After seven hours' hard work we reached a shelter hut. The
worst of the pass was now over. Some months later a
Moravian missionary, Mr Francke, very nearly lost his life
trying to cross too early in March. He was overwhelmed
by a heavy snowstorm, lost his way, fell into a drift and
gave himself up as lost, when providentially he saw in the
distance the dim forms of two postal runners, and following
in their track he extricated himself.
In the shelter house we found a solitary traveller
strange to say, a former hospital patient on his way home
I 3 4 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
an old man very feeble and with a bad cough. He had been
unable to proceed and might have died but for our arrival.
Giving him food, we put him on a pony and carried him
safely on his journey for some days, till we reached a large
village. On the way we were caught in a sharp snowstorm
and passed the skeleton of some poor traveller who had
perished by the way.
After two days we reached Dras. This is a small village
in a wide open valley 10,000 feet above sea-level. Amid
grassy slopes and patches of cultivation there are detached
groups of flat-topped houses, and for such a remote place
there is a fair population.
Dras is one of the districts where there are descendants
of the Dard invaders who entered Western Tibet from the
north-west; but having become Mohammedans, these have
lost many of their distinctive features. On the other side
of Kargyl, to the north-east, there are, however, still some
genuine Dards, who have kept up old customs, including
a special festival every two or three years, when they sing
Dard songs. Both here and at Dras the Dard language is
spoken. It is strange that there are so few of these Dard
colonists left. Mr Francke gives the following story which
he has heard of their fall. " The Dards were besieged in
their castle (probably by Tibetans), and when their supplies
of food and water came to an end, they resolved to die to-
gether. So they all assembled in the central hall of the castle
and the oldest man pushed away the stone on which stood
the central pillar supporting the roof and the falling roof
buried them all." The Dards were fond of adorning rocks
with outline drawings of animals. The ibex is the favourite,
but mounted huntsmen and even tigers are occasionally
represented. And various symbols and stone images show
that they were Buddhists.
At Dras more than seventy patients came to me in one
day. One of the bystanders interpreted for me from Kash-
miri to Tibetan. The head magistrate of the district
A GLIMPSE OF KASHMIRI TIBET 135
happened to be there and sat by my side. He also accepted
a copy of the Gospels in Persian.
Just beyond Dras, on the plateau, there are some inter-
esting stone images by the wayside. One of these bears
an inscription in Kashmiri Sharada characters, which was
partly deciphered by Cunningham, who made out amongst
others the word " Matreiyan." In all probability these
are Buddhist images, dating back to the emigration from
Kashmir.
The news of our coming now preceded us, and, as we
marched on, often we would find a little group of patients
and their friends waiting by the roadside to interview us.
Here and there a former patient would appear. One old
man, for instance, had received his sight after an operation
for cataract. Further on we met a cripple being carried
in a basket en route for the Mission Hospital, which was now
ten days' journey away. Sometimes a blanket was spread
on the ground for us to sit on and dishes of dried apricots
and their kernels and currants were brought out. The
people are pleasant- mannered but very dirty. In some
districts their lives are hard, owing to the difficulty in raising
crops in the desert. Nothing can be done without irrigation.
Wherever a stream comes down from the snow-clad heights,
there is a fan-shaped area of cultivation, and little channels
are cut along the hillside as far as the water can be carried.
In some villages there are three or four lines of small irriga-
tion canals one above the other. Occasionally they may
be seen hundreds of feet above the road. These channels
were many of them perhaps constructed in the first
instance by the Dards.
The sands of some of the rivers, the banks of which we
were now marching along, contain a fair amount of gold.
In some places the people do gold-washing, but their methods
are primitive and they make little more than the daily wages
of an ordinary labourer. Here and there one finds evident
traces of old workings. There are, for instance, remains of
136 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
gold-diggings near Channegund, 7 miles before we come
to Kargyl.
The next day we reached Kargyl, which is a large village
and marks the border where we pass into Ladakh. In the
villages on the Kashmir side there are some Hindus and
Sikhs, but most of the people are Mussulmans, and Moham-
medanism is now spreading chiefly by intermarriage with
Tibetan women. In Kargyl both polygamy and polyandry
exist side by side.
In Tibet polyandry is the custom. This has been de-
fended, even by British officials, on the ground that the
country is too poor to support a population married in the
ordinary manner. The fallacy of this would be less obvious
if the unmarried women of Tibet remained virgins, which is
not the case. Moreover, the practice of polygamy, which
in the case of Tibetan Mohammedans is becoming more
frequent, has shown no signs of producing a population
too large for the districts where it is in vogue. Most
of the people in Kargyl understand Tibetan only, but
there are very few Buddhists. After Kargyl the popula-
tion is Buddhist and you feel that you are in a strange
country.
Here and there on the hill-tops or by the wayside are to
be seen the simple square altars known as lathos, which date
back to before the introduction of Buddhism, but upon
which people still place flowers and hang strips of rag as an
offering to " the Unknown God."
On leaving Kargyl we crossed the Sum River which carries
down masses of dark-coloured silt, and climbing up 200 feet
we crossed a bare and arid plateau surrounded on every
side by high but barren peaks. After 7 miles we de-
scended to a stream and found vegetation again willow-
trees, poplars, barley and wild roses.
This is known as the Pashkyum valley, and was the scene
of a great battle in the autumn of 1834, when the Dogras,
under Zorawar, invaded Ladakh. The Ladakhi leader
A GLIMPSE OF KASHMIRI TIBET 137
fell early in the day and his army at once fled in the direc-
tion of Moulb6 and Shergol, destroying the bridge to prevent
pursuit. The Dogras, however, crossed the river on inflated
skins, inflicted great slaughter and also captured some
hundreds of the fugitives who were neither so well armed
as themselves nor possessed of discipline.
Winter came on and the Ladakhis had their chance, but
their leaders were absolutely incompetent. Mustering an
army of about 15,000, they again marched down to attack
the Dogras near Langkartse, between Kargyl and Sum.
But on the approach of the Dogras they again fled, losing
400 of their number who fell through a snow bridge and were
drowned and 200 who were made prisoners, including their
general. The Ladakhis then retreated to Moulb6. The
Dogras followed them up and the Ladakhi army retired to
Leh. All the chief towns along the route now hastened to
make their submission and sent large presents to Zorawar.
In this way Lamoy6ro, Saspool and Alchi escaped being
sacked. The Ladakhi king, having capitulated, Zorawar
entered Leh and received a substantial indemnity of 50,000
rupees and he also arranged for an annual tribute of Rs.
20,000.
Meanwhile a Dogra fort at Sura had been attacked
by the chief of Sod, who captured it and killed the garrison.
Zorawar, who heard of this when at Lamoy6ro, at once
marched to Suru, put the small Ladakhi garrison to the
sword, and, by offering 50 rupees per head on all who had
joined the chief of Sod's force, 200 were surrendered to him.
These he beheaded.
Leaving Pashkyum behind us, we plunged into a narrow
rocky valley, devoid of all verdure except here and there
where a little rivulet trickling down the hillside supplies
sufficient water for trees and grass to grow. These spots
were welcome oases in the desert. In some places the moun-
tains were wonderfully tinted red, yellow and violet, due
to the colour of the soil.
138 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
After we had marched about 20 miles from Kargyl,
emerging from a long and narrow ravine, we entered a wider
valley and saw opposite to us, on the side of the hill at
Sheogol, the first monastery, a small group of square white
buildings with flat roofs, the edges of which were painted dark
red, perched on a cliff of conglomerate.
A little farther on we caught sight of the Moulbe
Lamaserai, right on top of a pointed hill 300 feet high,
standing out in the valley. Just beyond Moulbe there
is an immense block of rock by the roadside with beauti-
fully sculptured on one face of it an image of Buddha
40 feet high. This Matreiya was probably carved by
order of one of the local chiefs in the time of their inde-
pendence (Plate 24).
At Moulbe there is also an inscription of King Lde's
abolishing living sacrifices. This was not, however, obeyed,
and the people continued to sacrifice goats before the
pre-Buddhist altars, tearing the heart out of the living
animal.
During the next two days, two lofty mountain passes had
to be crossed, one of them 14,000 feet high. There was no
snow here, but the height made us feel rather short of breath,
especially when .the wind was blowing. Descending from
this, we soon came in sight of the great Buddhist monastery
of Lamoy6ro (Plate 25). This is a remarkable place. The
high conglomerate cliffs are crowned by an immense number
of buildings. Time fails to tell of all the wonders we saw
the steep stairs and ladders, the tunnel-like passages, giddy
precipices, curious little cells and fierce Tibetan mastiffs, the
rows of prayer cylinders, the painted stones, and strangest
of all the large wall frescoes of hideous demons, and the
interior of the temples. We went into two of these. The
first was a room about 30 feet square and lofty, all the
light, coming from little windows round the top. On the
floor were rows of flat legless benches for the Lamas (as the
Buddhist priests are called in Ladakh). Round the walls were
24. COLOSSAL Bl'DDIIA AT MOl'LHK.
A GLIMPSE OF KASHMIRI TIBET 139
shelves and pigeon-holes full of books, manuscripts and vest-
ments, and here also were massive copper and brass bowls,
jugs, urns, basins, and the drums, cymbals, clarionets and
shawms these last 14 feet long used by the monastery
band. The walls and wooden pillars of the temple are hung
with tapestry, ancient silk banners and pictures. Facing
the door at the end of the room there is an altar or raised
platform with rows of images of Buddhist saints. These vary
in height from four inches to eight feet, and are of metal or
gilded or painted clay (Plate 33)- In this chamber the monks
gather daily at stated times. Their ritual is interesting and
impressive. Sitting in two lines facing each other, they softly
chant their prayers to the rhythmical accompaniment of
several drums, which are lightly tapped. At the end of a
verse or paragraph a blast of trumpets, shawms and clarionets
and a crash of cymbals and drums startles the visitor. The
musical effect is quite unique. The sounds cease as sud-
denly as they began, and then one thin nasal-toned voice
goes on softly chanting, to be joined shortly by the whole
choir, accompanied by the drums as before (Plate 27)- In some
of their observances there are certain resemblances to Roman
ritual. Often in reading or chanting, each monk will take
different pages of the same book and read it simultaneously
so as to finish the book at one sitting. Everything had a
Chinese look. The banners and several of the images, with
their almond-shaped eyes and gaudy colours, were identical
with those which I have seen in China. So also were
the rows of brass cups and little lamps and the large
bowl of butter with an ever-burning wick. Most of the
things in the temple had come from Lhassa, the home
01 Lamaism.
On special occasions the Lamas wear red cloth helmets and
waistcoats of rich embroidery over their brick-red toga-like
robes. In the second temple at Ldmoy6ro the walls are
covered with frescoes illustrating Buddhist doctrine, the
triumph of Buddha over his enemies and the tortures of the
I 4 o BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
Buddhist hell, and there is a large image of Chunre'zig 10 feet
high with numerous arms, and hands each containing an open
eye.
The Dulai Lama professes to be an incarnation of Chun-
rezig or Avalokita. The meaning of the name is "He who
looks down." This is a purely mythological creation and is
met with hi various forms in different parts of Tibet. The
Lamoy6ro image is of the colossal eleven-headed, thousand-
handed form. In one of the hands is a bow and arrow for
the defence of its votaries. The faces in front are supposed
to wear an aspect of benevolence, while those on the left
indicate anger at the sins of men. Waddell points out that
the earliest images of Avalokita clearly show that the figure
was modelled on the pattern of Brahma, the Hindu Creator,
and that Brahma's insignia, the lotus, rosary, vase and book,
may often be seen in the representations of Avalokita. Our
illustration shows a rosary and vase, and in one of the right
hands is a jewel (Plate 26).
In niches in the walls of the passages of the Lamoyoro
monastery, and especially near the chief gateways, are the
prayer cylinders, from one and a half to two feet high, each
revolving on a pivot. These boxes either have a prayer
painted on them outside or an opening into which a prayer
sheet can be thrust. The monks as they pass set them in
motion. A certain number are kept constantly revolving
by water power or wind a curiously mechanical and de-
graded idea of prayer. The sacred text, " Om mane padme
hon," is also stamped on pieces of paper or white and yellow
cotton cloth and hung up on poles. The Lamoyoro monastery
is one of the most important in Ladakh and is said to have
been originally a Bonpo Ldmaserai. In olden times the
religion of the Tibetans was the so-called Bon Chos. When
Buddhism was introduced the original Tibetan religion
underwent certain modifications. Monasteries were founded
and the names of various spirits were tabulated. According
to Francke, the main features of this religion were the follow-
26. I.MACK OK c in NRK/.K;.
(InU-rinr of ti-inpU- :il I.;iniv.'>ro. >
A GLIMPSE OF KASHMIRI TIBET 141
ing: "The world consists of three great realms, the land of
the gods, or heaven, which is of white colour; the land of men,
or the earth, of red colour; and the land of the water spirits 01
lower world, of blue colour. There is a king reigning hi
heaven as well as in the under world, but the greatest power
on the earth is the earth mother. There is a huge tree, the
tree of the world, growing through all the three realms. It
has its roots hi the under world and its highest branches in
heaven. The king of heaven is asked to send one of his sons
as king to the earth, and around the story of the mission of
the youngest son of the king of heaven to the earth, the
national epic of Tibet in general, and Western Tibet in par-
ticular, has grown up."
In 900 A.D. the leader of the Bon Chos was Langdarma.
He carried on a campaign against Buddhism, with bitter
irony, compelling many of the monks to become hunters or
even butchers and beheading those who would not submit.
" But when Langdarma imagined that he had succeeded in
annihilating Buddhism, the f^ake which he thought he had
crushed bit him. A Buddhist hermit put on a robe, black on
the outside and white inside, because only black clothing
(the colour of the Bon Chos) was allowed to be worn in those
days. But underneath his coat he kept a bow and arrow in
readiness. He approached the king as if he were a suppliant,
and threw himself down upon the floor. When Langdarma
walked up to him, he suddenly rose and shot the king through
the heart. Then in order not to be recognized by those who
had seen him enter in black, he put on his dress with the
white outside and escaped " (Francke).
Even to this day the Ladakhi ex-kings wear their hair in
the same fashion as Langdarma did. A great grandson of
Langdarma, whose name was Nyima Gon, conquered the
whole of Western Tibet, although to begin with he had only
300 horsemen.
At the foot of the cliffs below the Lamoy6ro Monastery
is the village, a group of flat-topped houses made of sun-
t42 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
dried bricks and nearly every one of which flies on the roof
one or more prayer flags. Many of the people, too, carry
prayer wheels, each consisting of a small copper cylinder
4 inches high, with a little weight and chain on one
side by which it is kept constantly revolving on a wooden
handle.
The approach to Lamoyoro, like that to all Lamaserais,
is marked by stone walls paved with thousands of stones
with the mystic formula carved on them. These walls,
which are from ten to fifteen feet broad and about five feet
in height, are sometimes two or three hundred yards long,
and often at both ends there are chortens or rows of
them.
Day after day our route lies along valleys through bare
mountains, a mixture of rocky crag and sandy waste, broken
only at intervals of six or eight miles by an occasional fan-
shaped oasis, watered by some snow-fed stream, and assidu-
ously cultivated by a scanty population.
A Ladakhi village is quite characteristic and very pictur-
esque. After a long and hot march on a sandy path, with
rocky cliffs towering above and a great river foaming below;
after threading one's way through innumerable boulders with
dark red polished surfaces and occasional carved inscriptions,
all lying under a blazing sun, the atmosphere quivering with
heat the temperature in the sun perhaps 140 F. we see
in the distance a green patch of cultivation. As we approach
we find terraced fields of barley and buckwheat supported
by stone walls. Here and there are bushes of wild roses
with profuse and brilliant red blossom. Little runlets of
crystal water cross the path, and there are lines of poplars
and willows with, nestling among them, flat-topped houses
with bunches of prayer flags. By the side of the road are
long lines of broad and solid wall, paved with smooth flat
stones, each bearing the sacred text," Om mane padme hon,"
"O God the jewel hi the lotus. Amen." The Buddhist
monuments (chortens) are a conspicuous feature of the
A GLIMPSE OF KASHMIRI TIBET 143
landscape, being pure white or earth-coloured with patches
of red paint. They are usually dome-shaped, resting on
a solid square foundation and with a red-coloured spire. They
vary hi height from twenty to sixty feet. The people are clad
in long coats of a grey woollen material, with broad girdles
of blue or red and caps of various colours, red, blue, green,
or even of black velvet with red lining. They have high
cheek-bones and wear their hair in long queues which make
their backs greasy and black. The women have head-
dresses of red cloth, covering also the neck and back and
closely studded with turquoises and brooches. On either
side these are balanced by large ear-flaps of black lamb's-wool.
The poorer women wear long and thick black coats and
trousers. Those who are less poor have richly-coloured
stuff or silk skirts. They also wear elaborate necklaces of
silver and red coral, and a large white section of some marine
shell, like a cuff, on each wrist. Over all, long cloaks of
goatskin are worn. The monks, too, are always in evidence,
with their shaven heads, receding foreheads, voluminous red
robes and bare arms.
Perhaps on top of a neighbouring cliff is a monastery,
a small replica of Lamoyoro, a picturesque group of white
buildings with verandahs and rows of small windows, the
whole surmounted by a parapet decorated with tufts of
yaks' tails on poles. In such a monastery there are usually
two temples. One of these contains numerous small images
of incarnations and founders, and is provided with shelves
for manuscripts, brass vessels and musical instruments used
in worship. In the other temple there is usually a colossal
image of Buddha or Chunrezig and the walls are covered with
paintings representing victories of Buddha and the de-
struction of his enemies. Prayer cylinders abound and the
monks religiously turn them as they pass. These monasteries
are always interesting places to visit.
But neither hi them nor in the villages and towns of
Ladakh does one meet with the Buddhism of romance.
144 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
Along with much that is quaint and weird and fascinating
from an artistic standpoint, there appears to be only too much
that is gross, sensual and depraved. Ignorance and pride
as usual go hand in hand. There is no " Light of Asia "
here. It appears to be passing scarce even in Buddhist
countries.
CHAPTER XI
THE UPPER INDUS VALLEY
Khalatze Fort and Bridge An Ancient Inscription Ruined Castles
- The Moravian Mission Tsongkapa, the Reformer Rirdzong
Monastery Potted Lmas Alchi Monastery Bazgoo The Mongol
War Leh, a Town in the Desert Dogra Conquest Moravian Mission
Work Buddhist Chortens and Rock-Carving The Hemis Demon
Dance Evangelization of Tibet.
LEAVING Lamoyoro we descend into a narrow valley, passing
on the way some very remarkable lacustrine deposits on our
right. These cover an area of several square miles and pre-
sent very much the appearance of a large glacier, only, instead
of ice or snow, there is a crevassed surface of hard and smooth
clay. The height above sea -level is about 11,000 feet.
Following a deep gorge, with precipitous sides, for about
two hours, we emerge in the relatively broad Indus Valley,
just below Khalatze, where, there is an interesting old fort
guarding a bridge across the river. Near this bridge there
are many boulders of a deep red colour polished by the sun
heat and drifting sand of ages. Some of these show traces
of ancient carving. The ibex is a favourite figure. On one
stone there is a more elaborate representation of a tiger
chasing some smaller animal and an inscription in Indian
Brahmi of the Maurya period. This stone was discovered
by the Rev. A. H. Francke, a Moravian Missionary, who was
working in Khalatze, and at his request I photographed it
and a print was sent to Calcutta to Dr Vogel, by whom it
was deciphered and found to indicate the fact that as long ago
as 200-300 B.C. the Indus was crossed at this place (Plate 28).
This is the most ancient stone inscription in Ladakh.
K 145
146 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
At Khalatze there is a ruined Dard castle, with in front
of it a short inscription in Indian character. Some earlier
inscriptions which have been found at Khalatze are thought
by Mr Francke to belong to the times of the ancient
Mons.
Western Tibet was colonized by Indians at a very early
period, as is shown by the inscriptions in Brahmi characters
dating as far back as 200 B.C. Tradition has it that at a great
council held by King Asoka in the third century B.C., Buddhist
missionaries were to be sent to Kashmir and even Yarkand.
By the second century A.D. Buddhism was firmly established
in Kashmir and had also probably penetrated Western Tibet.
It is thought that the colonies of Mons, which are found in
so many of the villages of Western Tibet, may be the descend-
ants of those early Indian colonists.
The Dard dynasty seems to have ended about the end of
the twelfth century. At that time the country was divided
among many petty rulers who were continually at war. And
especially at harvest-time perpetual raids and counter-raids
were made. This accounts for the large number of ruined
castles in which stores of grain were kept and to which on
alarm the non-combatants fled, and if hard pressed the
combatants also. And yet a through trade was carried on
down the Indus Valley. Mr Francke recently explored and
excavated the ruins of Balu Kar, an old customs-house on a
precipitous knoll overlooking the river a short distance above
Khalatze. There used to be a bridge at this point. The
customs-house was fortified and its officer had the title Mdo
gtsong gtso Lord of the trade in the lower valley. Mr
Francke found a number of ancient beads, and also some
very old tea, but no coins.
Bragnag Castle, which crowns the rocky cliffs above
Khalatze, was built by King Naglug about 1170 A.D. And
a bridge over the Indus was constructed at the same time,
evidently in opposition to that of Balu Kar, which is 3
miles further up the valley. The object was doubtless to
THE UPPER INDUS VALLEY 147
make a rival customs-post and secure a share of revenue
from the trade which passed through.
In the Indus Valley traces of gold-diggers are abundant.
All along the banks between Khalatze and Saspool there
are signs of old diggings and in some places there are the
ruins of buildings. Mr Francke found that in Khalatze there
were old folk tales about gold-digging ants, reminding one
of the stories of Herodotus.
The Moravian Church has a Mission Station here, and for
some years Christian work has been steadily carried on among
the villagers. Mr Francke's name is a household word in
Khalatze, and since he left, the Rev. S. Ribbach, one of the
most capable and devoted of the Moravian Missionaries,
has been working the district. The moral influence of the
Mission is most important, although so far very few Ladakhis
have actually become Christians.
From Khalatze the route lies up the Indus Valley, which
is here 9500 feet above sea-level. The road, except where it
is driven down to the river by cliffs, crosses a series of arid
plateaus intersected by deep ravines. One of the commonest
plants in the scanty herbage of these desert uplands is the
wild caper, with its white hellebore-like flower, solid green
buds and fleshy leaves. Nine miles beyond Khalatze there
is a very narrow gorge on the left. Four miles up this, quite off
the beaten track, is the interesting monastery of Rirdzong, be-
longing to the reformed Tsongkapa or yellow sect. Tsongkapa
was born in 1355. He was the great reformer of Lamaism,
which he found very corrupt . He tried hard to persuade
the Lamas to again wear the yellow robes of Buddhism and
he also sought to improve their morals, which were then, as
now, very bad. After encountering much opposition and
carrying on a vigorous controversial campaign, his cause
became increasingly successful in Central Tibet and large
numbers of followers adopted the yellow cap of early
Buddhism, the badge of his party, which he called Gelugpa
the sect of virtuet
148 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
In Ladakh he was less successful. At present there are
two sects of Lamas, the red and the yellow. But both
wear red robes, and the only difference in dress is in the caps
and girdles, which in the case of the red sect are red, and in
the other yellow. The robes of the early Buddhists were
yellow. Even now some of the Lamas in Zanskar, between
Kashmiri Tibet and Kishtiwar, are clothed entirely in
yellow.
In Central Tibet the yellow sect is now much larger than
the red. And Tsongkapa's name is almost as sacred as
Buddha's. His image, with characteristic tall yellow mitre,
is conspicuous in all the temples of the yellow sect. Tashi
Lunpo at Shigatze, the home of the Tashi Lama, was founded
by Tsongkapa's nephew in 1445, and contains a large pillared
hall with a huge statue of the reformer, who is regarded as
an incarnation of Amitabha, and is supposed to have been
reincarnate in the present Tashi Lama.
Rirdzong Monastery is a very large building. It is
unusually clean and well kept and much more modern than
most, being hardly a century old. This monastery has a
better moral reputation than most.
Retracing our steps to the mouth of the gorge, a march
of 14 miles through a very desolate part of the Indus
Valley, brings us to Saspool. This is a large village with
about 3 square miles of cultivated land, irrigated by a
large stream, in which there are numbers of small snow trout.
A few hundred yards above the village are the ruins of an
extensive monastery, which was probably destroyed in the
Balti War of the latter half of the sixteenth century.
On the walls of numerous caves which remain there are
still frescoes in a wonderful condition of preservation, and
we found several clay medallions stamped with the image of
Buddha. These are said to have been prepared from the
ashes of cremated Lamas or Buddhist priests, and they are
prepared by adding a little clay and stamping them
with a large seal. A chance traveller once called them
THE UPPER INDUS VALLEY 149
"potted Lamas," a suggestive, if somewhat irreverent,
name.
Opposite Saspool, on the opposite side of the river,
there is a village called Alchi, about 3 miles away, which
contains the oldest monastery in Ladakh, one of the original
Kashmiri Buddhist Lamaserais.
This monastery at Alchi is noteworthy because it is one
of four which were built by Kashmiri monks, the most famous
of whom was Lotsava Rinchen bzangpo, who is said to have
lived in the year 954 A.D. In one of the rooms of the temple
there, I was able to obtain a good photograph of an ancient
wall painting, representing this monk (Plate 29). The
characteristic feature of these ancient Kashmiri monasteries
is the employment of richly carved wood. At Alchi, in front
of the temple, there is a verandah with substantial wooden
pillars surmounted by beautifully carved capitals on which
there is a cornice similarly ornamented. Above this are
smaller pillars and arches with trefoil design and images of
Buddha and Buddhist saints. The doors, too, have very
broad frames which are carved in Kashmir style. On the
walls, both inside and out, there are numerous paintings. Mr
Francke says that there are monasteries presenting similar
characters at Kanika in Zangskar and Sumsa, Manggyu,
Chigtan and Bazgoo.
From Saspool the road leaves the Indus and climbs up a
steep ravine to a plateau. After about 5 miles there is a
steep descent to the village of Bazgoo, which clings round the
foot of a rocky ridge which is crowned by the ruins of an ex-
tensive fort which was erected by Dragspa, brother of King
Lde the Reformer. Bazgoo was sacked by Zorawar in 1836
in the second Dogra war. The rocks here are of a rich red
colour, and the whole place is exceedingly picturesque. In
the foreground are some immense chortens, with mani walls,
said to have been erected by Stag tsang ras cheng, a very
famous Lama, who lived about the end of the sixteenth
century, and is believed to have introduced the custom of
1 50 BEYOND THE FIR PANJAL
building these walls into Ladakh. In the little valley there
is a clear stream surrounded by fields of barley and groves of
poplars and willows, and there is also an orchard of apple
trees. Behind is the bold outline of a rocky ridge with the
ruined castle and a Lamaserai. At the foot of the cliffs are a
considerable number of flat-roofed houses with prayer flags
fluttering in the breeze, and prayer wheels being turned by
the stream. The mountains around are beautiful and are
the home of ibex, wild sheep and snow leopards. On the
plain just beyond Bazgoo, a great battle took place about
the middle of the seventeenth century. The King of Western
Tibet, who was at war with Chinese Tibet, asked help from
the Moghuls, who were then reigning in Delhi and held
Kashmir. Shah Jehan sent an army which crossed the
Indus at Khalatze on two wooden bridges and advanced to
Bazgoo. The Mongols had taken up their position on the
Plain of Jargyal between Bazgoo and Nyemo. They were
signally defeated and decamped, leaving the field of battle
strewn with primitive weapons, armour and baggage.
In return for this aid the King of Ladakh had to promise
to become a Mussulman, build a mosque at Leh and to give
Kashmir the monopoly of the wool trade. Unfortunately as
soon as the Moghuls had returned to Kashmir, the Mongols
again descended and King Delegs had to buy them off next by
agreeing to pay yearly tribute.
Leh, the capital of Ladakh, is situated 20 miles
further up the Indus Valley. It is a town in the desert
(Plate 31) The desert, however, is not a plain but a sloping
valley surrounded by barren mountains, and with the green
margin of cultivation stretching only just so far into the arid
wastes around, as irrigation can be carried from the stream
upon which the life of Leh depends. Twelve miles behind
Leh, the valley is closed in by a snowy range, which is
crossed by the Khardong Pass, 17,400 feet above sea-level
and 6000 feet higher than Leh. This is the route to the
Shayok, Nubra valley and Yarkand. Below Leh, the valley
Photo by]
30. VIEW FROM THE PALACE, LEH.
THE UPPER INDUS VALLEY 151
opens out into a fan-shaped expanse of desert extending
down four and a half miles to the Indus River. Owing to
the extraordinary clearness of the atmosphere the distance
looks much less. Close to the river there is an isolated rocky
hill the upper part of which is terraced with the white build-
ings of the monastery of Spittag. This, which was built by
King Lde under the influence of Tsongkapa, was the first of
the reformed monasteries. Later on others of the same sect
were founded by subsequent kings. One of these, Trigtse
Monastery, 12 miles further up the Indus Valley, is placed
in a very commanding situation on the top of a rocky
peak.
The view from Leh across the Indus is magnificent
(Plate 30). In the distance, but looking quite near, is a line
of snows culminating in a peak over 20,000 feet in height.
The prevailing colour of the numerous ridges below snow level
is light red. In the early morning and at sunset the play
of colours is sublime: the mountains glow with shades of
orange and crimson, while their shadows are often a pure
liquid violet. Spittag, with its picturesque monastery, the
walls of which catch up the sunlight, the village nestling in
verdure, and the broad stretch of desert in the foreground
and middle distance flanked by rocky heights, combine to
form a picture never to be forgotten. The atmosphere of the
valley is remarkably clear and transparent, and the heat of
the sun very great. There is generally a difference of more
than 60 between the reading of the exposed sun ther-
mometer in vaciu), and the air temperature in the shade,
and this difference has occasionally exceeded 90. Dr
Cayley succeeded in making water boil by simply exposing
it to the sun in a small bottle blackened on the outside, and
shielded from the air by inserting it in a larger phial of trans-
parent glass. Owing to the diminished pressure of the
atmosphere at the elevation of Leh, this would, however,
take place at 191 or 192, or about 20 below the normal
boiling-point at the sea-level. The average rainfall is only
152 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
three inches a year. Leh itself is a remarkable town, and
is the meeting-place of Aryan and Mongol, the western
centre of Lamaism and an important mart for Central Asian
trade in wool, tea and Indian hemp. Here may be met
traders from many remote districts, and the streets are full
of picturesque figures. Leh is a town of flat-topped, terraced
houses built of sun-dried bricks. There is one broad street
with a line of poplars and quaint two-storied houses, in the
shops of which all sorts of bright-coloured garments and other
goods are exposed for sale. This street is also used for polo,
and exciting games are played by enthusiastic Tibetans
mounted on the small active ' country ponies. The main
street is entered at the south end by a large gateway. At
the other end is the steep slope of a rocky ridge with terraced
houses and a very large chorten with a white dome and red
spire. Crowning the whole and high above the town is the
most conspicuous building of Leh the palace. This is nine
stories high. It is said to have taken three years to build,
and was constructed by King Senggenamgal early in the
seventeenth century (Plate 31).
On top of the hill behind the palace there is a red monas-
tery containing a colossal image of Matreiya, 25 feet high,
the head of which projects above the floor of the second
story. This was erected by King Lde.
Leh was invaded by the Dogras under Zorawar in 1835.
The following winter the Ladakhis revolted and attempted
to throw off the Dogra yoke. This led to another invasion
by Zorawar, and the King of Ladakh, whose name was
Tsepal, was deposed and sent to live at Stog, a village on the
other side of the Indus. Zorawar built the present fort, and
put in a garrison of 300 men. He then left the country after
sacking the king's treasure house.
Once more in the winter of 1840-41 the Ladakhis rose
in rebellion. This was quickly subdued by Zorawar.
In the following year, however, this redoubtable general
lost his life in a campaign against Central Tibet. For the
THE UPPER INDUS VALLEY 153
Tibetans found a valuable ally in the intense cold. The
armies met on a plateau 15,000 feet above sea-level not far
from Gartok. The Dogras had already suffered severely
from the snow. The fight lasted for three days. The
Tibetans then made a charge and a horseman speared
Zorawar, who had already received a bullet wound in
the right shoulder. Thus perished a gallant soldier, who
had served his master, Golab Singh, well, and made his
name to be feared throughout the whole of Western
Tibet.
Golab Singh did not accept this reverse as final. A
fresh and well-equipped army was sent up to Leh, and
from there it marched to Drangtse, near the western end of
the Pangong Lake, and after damming up the stream so as
to flood the Tibetans out of their entrenchments the Dogras
delivered their attack and completely routed the Tibetans,
capturing their leader, whom they promptly executed.
Having thus vindicated their authority, the Dogras then
made peace, taking Ladakh as the spoils of war and once
more finally allotting to the king the village of Stog and its
petty revenue.
In Leh there is now a British political officer, who is on
the staff of the Kashmir Residency. The administration is
carried on by a Governor appointed by the Maharajah of
Kashmir, who is grandson of Golab Singh.
Since 1875 the Moravians have had a Mission Station
here. They have had a succession of earnest and capable
missionaries. The Rev. F. Redslob, the founder, was much
liked by the people, and exerted a great influence for good.
The Mission Hospital attracts large numbers of sick people,
and is much appreciated. Typhus fever often breaks out in
epidemic form in Leh and the villages around, and causes
terrible mortality. Both Mr Redslob and Dr Marx, the
Mission doctor, lost their lives from this disease in 1891 ; and
in 1907 Dr Ernest Shawe, who had succeeded Dr Marx and
had been attending large numbers of typhus patients, also
154 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
died of typhus. The whole history of the Moravian Mission
in Ladakh is one of noble self-sacrifice and devotion,
for the climate is most unsuited for the prolonged
residence of Europeans owing to the extreme altitude.
Nevertheless, the work has been steadily carried on
by Mr Weber, then by Mr Ribbach, and at the present
time by Messrs Peter, Schmidt and Reichel. There is now
a small community of Tibetan Christians.
About a mile above Leh there is an immense chorten,
the largest in Ladakh. This was erected by King Lde.
Close to this the Moravian Missionaries, who were carrying
on excavations, found a large grave with many ancient
skeletons and painted clay-pots apparently dating from the
time of the Dards. This chorten was perhaps built to
antagonize the spirits of the old Dards, which were supposed
to bring death and disaster.
A few miles beyond Leh, in the Indus Valley, is the large
village of Sheh. Immediately outside Leh, on the road to
Sheh, there is a very long mani wall nearly half a mile in
length with high chortens at each end. This was constructed
by King Deldan in the first half of the seventeenth century.
A very large chorten at Sheh, five stories high, was also
erected by the same king. On the rocks at Sheh, just where
the path from Leh reaches the Indus, there is a remarkable
image of Matreiya, about 30 feet high, which is thought to
have been sculptured by order of King Nyima Gon about
975 A.D. There is also an inscription showing that at that
time the Buddhist religion was fairly established in Western
Tibet. It was not until the fourteenth century that Lhassa
became the religious centre for Western Tibet also. From
that time the Bon religion disappeared, but the Buddhism
of Tibet became less Indian.
Buddhism was first introduced into Central Tibet about
400 A.D. Rather more than two centuries later, this religion
began to spread rapidly owing largely to the influence of
King Shrong Tsan Sgampo, who was a zealous proselyte,
THE UPPER INDUS VALLEY 155
But for another two centuries there was an acute struggle
between it and the Bon Chos.
The chief emigration of Buddhism from the Kashmir side
is believed to have taken place between A.D. 600 and 1000,
and to have been then due to a general decay of Buddhism
in the valley of Kashmir which resulted in the impoverish-
ment of the monks and impelled them to move eastward.
Rather an absurd episode occurred as I was entering Sheh.
I was riding a local pony. These little beasts sometimes
strongly object to umbrellas. And I was carrying one, as
the sun was intensely hot. For some miles all went on well.
But when nearing my destination, I turned round to see
whether the baggage ponies were in sight. In doing so my
umbrella must have moved forward a little. The pony at
once bolted and charged straight into the coolie who was
carrying my tiffin basket. And we all fell in a heap together.
No one was hurt, but the injured expression on the coolie's
face was most amusing.
The monastery of Hemis, which is situated about 20
miles further up the Indus Valley, is nearly 12,000 feet above
the sea-level. It is especially famous on account of the
great religious masquerade which is held there every summer.
There are about 300 Lamas in the monastery, which is really
quite a settlement. Hundreds of spectators are drawn
from Leh and scattered villages far and near. Many of the
women appear in richly-coloured silk dresses, and on the
appointed days it is a strange sight to see the crowds of pil-
grims making their way up the desolate and barren desert
slopes to the scene of the dance.
THE LAMA DEVIL DANCE AT HEMIS
The object of this dance is probably chiefly to illustrate
the struggle of the demons for the soul of man, and the value
of priestly intercession. It is performed in a large court-
156 BEYOND THE FIR PANJAL
yard surrounded on three sides by verandahs (Plate 32).
On the fourth side a colossal banner, with a representation
of the founder of the monastery, was hung. This is only
exhibited once in twelve years. The following is an account
of the day's dance at which I was present. It will be seen
that it was somewhat monotonous, although quite unique,
and remarkably interesting. Every available space, whether
window, verandah or housetop, was crowded with Tibetan
spectators. About 9 a.m., after a few preliminary growlings
from the shawms (copper trumpets 15 feet in length), sud-
denly the band struck up cymbals, shawms, clarionets and
drums forming the orchestra. The players were red-robed
monks with dragoon-shaped red cloth helmets, and they
faced a broad flight of steps on the opposite side of the
quadrangle. Down these steps two figures (acariyas) made
their appearance, clothed in yellow-brocaded costumes with
masks of cheerful aspect and red handkerchiefs over the back
of their heads. In their hands each had a stick with a tuft
of hair on the end. With these they kept the crowd in order,
and also carried on by-play behaving like circus clowns.
Next thirteen richly-dressed figures with black hats
(rather like large stiff Tarn o' Shanters) came dancing down
the steps. On top of each hat there was an erection about
10 inches in height with a tiny model of a skull in the centre.
Each dancer had a handkerchief tied over his mouth, a piece
of skull in his hand, and a life-size picture of a skull suspended
in front of his rich robes. These black -hatted devil dancers
proceeded to hop round in a circle revolving from right to
left and left to right alternately on each leg to an accompani-
ment of quiet singing and measured beating of drums and
subdued clash of cymbals by the band. Two Lamas now
came forward and gave a little brush of twigs to each dancer,
and then placed a small image on the ground and a pan of live
charcoal. A Lama remained standing by this, holding a
bunch of peacocks' feathers in his hand. The black-hatted
ones now danced round slowly, waving coloured silk rags
THE UPPER INDUS VALLEY 157
round their brushes. Quiet singing by the Lamas was con-
tinued. Then clarionets sounded from the top of the steps,
and the dancers slowly went off in that direction.
After this there was a pause of five minutes, during which
a steady, low, measured beating of drums and cymbals was
carried on. Then the clarionets sounded out and sixteen
figures trooped on, clothed in rich costumes of Chinese
brocade some blue, others red, green and yellow. They had
flat brazen masks, tall caps, and each held in his left hand a
small bell and brass sceptre (dorje), and in the right a tiny
double drum (daru). The leader's drum was white, all the
rest were green. The band sings, the dancers step to right
and left, close in, form a smaller circle, rattle their drums
and bells, and after measured chanting they caper round.
Two trumpets are now blown on the steps and they run off
two by two. More quiet singing is carried on by the band.
It is now half-past ten. Then there is a pause, only broken
by low drumming and occasional reinforcement by cymbals
and clarionet. The abbot of the monastery now rings his
bell, and while the band plays loudly he sprinkles his desk
and seat with holy water. Another Lama sprinkles the
ground in front of the shrine. Then all the musicians re-
spectfully stand at attention as a procession of sixteen un-
masked mitred Lamas enter. Each of these carries a little
bell, a sceptre and a tiny double drum. And each has his
mouth tied up with a handkerchief. They are attended by
acolytes in yellow aprons. Following them come several
figures with very large yellow, red, black and green masks
and rich robes the Founder of the Monastery with attend-
ant spirits good and evil. Over the Founder a large umbrella-
like canopy is carried. These sit in a row against the east
side of the quadrangle. The Limas sing and continuous
drumming goes on.
Suddenly high piercing, weird whistling was heard and
a troop of demons with flags on their heads trooped in,
scampered round and ran off again. The L4mas continued
i 5 8 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
their singing. The two acariyas again began to carry on
by-play. Then four young drummers, unmasked, with
crown-like head-dresses, came in, and facing the Founder and
his attendant spirits proceeded to make a curious humming
noise while one beat his drum and the others pretended to do
the same. This went on for a long time and then the drummers
marched off. Next a blue-faced spirit began to dance, holding
a sceptre in the right hand and a bell in the left. A bene-
volent white-faced spirit now came out and danced. Then
the Founder, with a little drum in his right hand and a brass
box in the left, and dressed in a white silk-flowered gown, did
the same. After this a red-faced spirit danced, holding a
little drum in the right and a large spoon in the left hand.
Next an orange-faced demon, with a spear and flag and metal
spoon in his hand, executed a dance. The band continued
playing. Then a blue-haired devil dancer with yellow robes
pranced about. Next a blue-faced tusked demon came out
and danced. He was shortly joined by two equally hideous
attendants who danced in step with him. Then a black-
haired, black-faced figure took his turn and was joined by
two equally horrible attendants. After this the sixteen
mitred Lamas who had been sitting in the centre of the court
paid their homage to the Founder and sang softly without
accompaniment. The clarionets now sounded on the steps
and the whole of the dancers and mitred Lamas marched off
to the sound of drums, shawms, clarionets and cymbals.
After a great noise from these, sudden silence supervened.
It was now about 12.30, and there was an interval of an
hour, during which some Lamas and some also of the specta-
tors prostrated themselves before the colossal picture of
the Founder. Occasionally, too, the shawms were blown.
At 1.30 a black-faced demon entered with a representation
of a skull, life-size, hanging in front of him, and holding a
red-and-black flag in his right hand. Then a row of ten
hideous demons, horned or black-hatted, with little skulls
on the crown, came into the arena. These wore long capes of
THE UPPER INDUS VALLEY 159
many colours. One held a naked sword, a second the model
of a human heart, another a sickle, a fourth a hammer.
Others held spears, chains and models of human viscera.
These were to represent the devils who struggle for the
human soul. Two ape-like figures with gaping mouths now
rushed on and joined in. The Lamas continued to chant
and the drums to beat. Finally the demon figures went off,
two by two, to the sound of shawms and cymbals. After
a short burst of music, an offering in a brass vessel was made
to the shrine by a Lama, who prostrated himself. A mat
was now deposited in the courtyard with a tiger skin in the
centre. A procession of the abbot and attendant Lamas
approached this. The abbot, clothed in a yellow cloak,
held a silver cup ; one Lama by his side carried a ewer and
another a plate. Standing on the mat, amidst soft singing
and chanting, the abbot rings a little bell in his left hand
and, his head being bare, thrice fills the cup from the ewer and
pours the fluid out on to the ground. He then puts on his
hat and places a banner on the floor. Then a weird and
shrill whistling arises and four death's-head maskers, clothed
in white, rush in and dance near the banner. One of these
holds a small skull in his hand and a stick with a blue flag.
A violet cloth containing a model of a human figure is now
placed on the banner on the ground by a Lama. The death's-
head maskers go round and round this their victim, make
signs over it, and then run off two on each side. Drumming
and beating of cymbals goes on, and then a yellow-faced and
hideous demon enters, a second with a red face, a third green,
and a fourth white. One has a sickle, another a chain, a
third a rope. These dance round and round and go off to
the sound of the clarionets. Drumming goes on. Then a
procession of Lamas enters two with censers, one with a
ewer, two with clarionets, and a horrid red devil with white
hair. The red devil has a sword which he waves as he
approaches nearer and nearer. The Lamas move off, leaving
him alone. But he is now joined by four more three red-
160 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
faced and one black with pictures of skulls hanging in front
of their robes. These dance round the victim. The
musicians of the band chant the demons walk round in
procession. Drums and cymbals beat. Then there is a
pause and they begin again. A Lama now cuts up the image
and gives a portion to each demon. Lamas chant again
and the demons strike a listening attitude. Two clarionets
sound on the steps and the demons troop off two by two.
It is now 3.10 p.m.
After a pause of about ten minutes a red demon enters,
followed by others, red, yellow, green and white, each with
a death's-head on his breast and four of them crowned with
skulls. These dance round and Lamas sing. They continue
dancing, and finally a Lama distributes portions of the
image to them and then carries off the mat, figure and
banner.
A yellow demon with a white flag on his head beats a drum
on the top of the steps. He is joined by figures dressed up
as yellow tigers and with flags and small skulls on their
heads and bells round their waists. These ran about wildly,
went off and came on again. They then formed themselves
into two rows of five each, facing each other. While one of
them beat a drum the others pretended to do so beating
time with their drum sticks but not touching the drums.
They advanced and retreated and crossed over from side to
side. This went on monotonously for a long time. After
about half an hour the whole ten struck their drums loudly
and with a steady rhythm of one long and three short strokes
for about twenty minutes. The Lamas chanted and suddenly
the demons howled and ran round the arena. Trumpets
were blown and then a silence supervened. It was now
4 p.m. and all was finished.
Tibet is one of the countries the door of which is still
closed to evangelistic effort. It was hoped that the result
of the recent expedition would have been to open it not only
to trade but to Christianity. So far those hopes have not
THE UPPER INDUS VALLEY 161
been fulfilled, and the British Government is very averse
to any travellers entering the country.
It is greatly to be regretted that in spite of the expendi-
ture of life and treasure, Chinese Tibet is more closed than
it was before the war. This is characteristic of the unfortu-
nate methods of British policy. The recent invasion of Tibet
by China will seriously alter the political equilibrium of
Central Asia and cannot fail to affect India. It seems
probable that what has been refused by Britain may be
granted by China, and that in future the best route to Chinese
Tibet and Lhassa will be through China, and that missionary
effort may be directed from that side with greater hopes of
success than in time past.
Meanwhile there is plenty of work to be done in Western
Tibet and on the borders. And there are points of contact,
and influence is being brought to bear upon the people.
For many years the Moravians have been carrying on a
quiet work among Tibetan-speaking people to the south and
west. And there are several centres with small Tibetan
Christian congregations. Not long ago a Lama, touched
by the kindness shown to him by the missionaries when he
was ill, and impressed by a study of the Gospels which had
been given to him, became a Christian. He has, I hear,
exercised great influence on his former disciples in Western
Tibet, and it is possible that several may ere long join the
Christian congregation.
Mr Francke, who formerly worked hi Khalatze in the
upper Indus Valley, brought out a monthly newspaper in
Tibetan. The circulation was small so far as the number
of copies issued was concerned; but each copy was handed
on from one to another, and the monasteries furnished not
a few regular readers.
On the east side on the Chinese border a quiet work is
going on at Ta-Chien-lu and other places. A most inter-
esting book, With the Tibetans in Tent and Temple, by Dr
Susie Rijnhart, gives a graphic description of work in Tankar
1 62 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
and Kumbum monastery, and a record of an heroic but dis-
astrous attempt to penetrate to Lhassa, the great centre
of the Lama system, in which she lost both husband and
child, the former being murdered by robbers. Although the
journey was rash, we cannot but admire the zeal and self-
sacrifice of these pioneers. Who can say that such lives were
really lost in vain? Tibet will become open to the Christian
Faith in the course of time. At present, opposition emanates
mainly from the Lama priests. The monasteries are great
land-holders; and so the weight of wealth, the influence of
priestcraft, and the traditions of a religion which has existed
many centuries, combine to form a citadel which will require
very much more extensive effort than is now being put
forth, before it shows signs of capitulation.
The Kashmir Mission of the C.M.S. occupies one of the
outposts of the Church of England on the Indian Frontier.
Further east are the Moravian Stations. This is the fighting
line of Christianity and it is a very thin one. The battle is
prolonged. There can be no doubt as to the result if the
Church is only true to its trust. The results of Mission work
are indeed according to our faith, not only as individuals,
but also as a Church. The lack of men and means, of which
we hear so much, are symptoms of want of faith, and yet how
much there is to be done. India is still feebly occupied by
the Church, and Central Asia is practically untouched.
Where are the men?
CHAPTER XII
SPHERE OP INFLUENCE OF MEDICAL MISSION
WORK
Racial Antagonism Points of Contact Opportunities for Service
Economic Value of Medical Relief Should Missionary Work be Sup-
ported? Aims and Attainments.
Such mercy He by His most holy reede
Unto us taught, and to approve it trew
Ensampled it by His most righteous deede
Shewing us mercy, miserable crew !
That we the like should to the wretches shew
And love our brethren.
SPENSER.
THE rapid development of India has brought us face to face
with many grave problems. The action of the National
Congress, the Swadeshi movement, the Pan-Islamic revival,
and the anti-British tone of a large section of the Indian
Press, are various manifestations of this. It has, however, been
truly pointed out by the Bishop of Lahore that the very
rise of these new conditions is, in large part, due to our
National Christianity and to our attitude toward and manner
of dealing with India. As missionaries, our one aim is to
bring India the very best (of all which we believe that we have
received from God) of faith and high moral and intellectual
ideals and of self-sacrificing service. That mercenary
motives are often imputed to the British, whether Govern-
ment servants or missionaries, is too true. On the whole we
believe that imputation to be both unjust and untrue.
Missionary enterprise has done more to keep steadfastly to
the front the highest principles and motives of life, than any
other agency in India, and it has achieved results too ex-
tensive to be measured. It is not too much to say that
163
1 64 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
Indian Society, whether Hindu or Mohammedan, is uncon-
sciously saturated with Christianity. Many missionaries
who are lamenting their apparent want of success and who
deplore the comparative rarity of the crowning joy of indi-
vidual work, the actual receiving of convinced and consistent
Christians into the visible Church, would be much happier in
their work if they could only realize the extent to which they
have been permitted to be the instruments of disseminating
the highest truth.
We believe the present state of India to be a stage of
progress, and that the best and truest of our rulers have indeed
been striving, as has been well said, " to do what was right
from day to day, believing that if this were the principle of
our rule, the ultimate issues of it could not be evil, or in any
real sense injurious to ourselves."
If the time has come or when it does come that Indians
should be permitted and encouraged to take over administra-
tive and judicial responsibility, to a much larger extent than
hitherto, I believe that missionaries will welcome such a change
a change which is not only inevitable but to be hoped for
soon, and which might be at once safely realized, if only " the
valiant man and free, the larger heart and kindlier hand " had
been rung into the land to a larger extent than is the case.
Missionaries in North India are apt to feel that as
Christians they have more in common with Mohammedans
than with Hindus. The Mohammedan belief in the Unity
and Purity of God and their theoretical acceptance of " the
Law," seem to give a common platform of belief. It is im-
portant that the most should be made of these points of con-
tact. We owe a debt to those who, like the eminent linguist,
Dr Grierson, have emphasized the importance of the Hindu
doctrine of Bhakti, the oneness of the Supreme Being, and
the sinfulness and unworthiness of man, a doctrine, too, which
recognizes Incarnation. " In every nation he has faith
who feareth God and worketh righteousness, for he is ac-
cepted with Him. And the man that walketh in darkness
MEDICAL MISSION WORK 165
and hath no light, if only he walks uprightly and judges
righteous judgment, he, too, shall see the mystery of the truth
and duty that he loved, unfolded in the loving face of Him,
that liveth and was dead and is alive for evermore." x
One of the strong points of Medical Missions is this, that
they enjoy exceptional facilities for showing kindness and
courtesy to thousands of Indians of all classes, and of render-
ing service to them. One of the greatest duties and privileges
of the British in India, is to set forth the honourableness of
service and the nobility of " the golden rule " ; ideas which,
although deeply rooted in the West, have not yet received
much acceptance hi Asia, in practical life.
At the present time, when there is an undoubted increase
of racial antipathy between East and West, it is most im-
portant that all Englishmen should set themselves deter-
minedly to extend more kindliness and sympathy to their
Indian neighbours and dependents, and to do what they can
to lessen the bitterness and racial dislike, which are becoming
so painfully apparent.
Another strong point of Medical Missions is that they aim
high. The highest ideal of life is for us to address ourselves
to the task of carrying out the programme of Christianity,
to cheer the poor with good tidings, to release the captives,
give sight to the blind, and set at liberty those who are
bruised. We have been privileged to see a partial realization
of this ideal in our own age and our own country. How
many hospitals, infirmaries and asylums have been founded
for the relief of every kind of disease! In every city, too,
how numerous are the benevolent institutions and the as-
sociations for improving the condition of the poor, the
suffering and the degraded! It was not always so. What
has made the difference? The growth of refinement and
civilization? Surely not! There was a high degree of re-
finement and civilization in Rome and Athens in olden days,
but little humanity. More than half the population of those
1 Gwatkins.
i66 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
cities was enslaved. And apart from military institutions,
not only were there few if any hospitals for the care of the
poor and suffering, but we know that, on the contrary,
heartless selfishness and merciless cruelty flourished in the
midst of civilization and refinement as in a congenial soil.
Was the condition of things any better in India before the
days of British rule? Was there any care for the sick poor?
Were there any hospitals or institutions for the relief of those
afflicted with blindness or other disease?
It is to Christianity that we must look for the great motive
power of philanthropy. Its great Founder proclaimed His
Mission to be for the relief of the distressed. It was He Who
sent out His disciples with the great commission to heal the
sick and say unto them, " The Kingdom of God is come nigh
to you." He was never more at home than in a crowd
composed of persons suffering from every kind of disease
and infirmity of body and. mind, " amongst whom He moved
benignly, touching one here into health, speaking to another
the word of power, and letting glances of kindness and good
cheer fall on all." And, following in His holy footsteps,
Christians have at all times carried on the great work of
comfort and healing. Public hospitals, refuges for the blind,
and asylums for lepers, owe their origin chiefly to Christians.
In more recent times Christian statesmen brought about
the abolition of slavery, and a Christian lady started the
great Dufferin scheme for the relief of suffering women in
India.
As the influence of Christianity has spread and become
stronger, it has gradually altered the whole character of
public opinion until, instead of, as in the classical days of
paganism, its weight being on the side of cruelty and neglect,
the scale is now weighed down on the side of mercy. And
in these days Christian charity is not content with minister-
ing to human misery, but seeks to remove its causes and to so
regulate the conditions and environment of life as to avert the
onset of disease. This great Christian influence spreads and
MEDICAL MISSION WORK 167
radiates until we find, especially in the large cities of India,
non-Christians, Parsis, Hindus and Mohammedans, whose
consciences have been stirred and who are awakening to
the needs of the distressed and suffering, and coming forward
and liberally supporting or even founding hospitals and other
institutions for the relief of disease and pain. But, although
full of promise for the future, such instances are still excep-
tional, and as a whole, the Indian people are very far behind.
They have little desire to engage in practical philanthropy
and they care for none outside their own family or caste.
And if charitable institutions are organized for them, those
who are not Christians often cannot be trusted to administer
the funds honestly. Nowhere does the gulf between East
and West come out more clearly than here. On the one side
we have apathy, callous neglect, and gross and often dis-
honest selfishness; on the other, the high ideals of Christian
philanthropy. It makes one sick at heart to hear English
men and women who openly advocate leaving the Hindus
and Mohammedans where they are English men and
women who lightly esteem their own priceless heritage, the
Christian Faith, handed down through centuries of struggle
against wrong, and who so depreciate the moral and spiritual
resources of the West as to think that we have no gifts to
impart to the East. Have we no higher ideals of unselfish
devotion to duty, of purity, of family life, brotherly love and
charity to all men, than the seething mass of corruption,
deceit, selfishness, impurity, fraud and intrigue with which
the Indian peoples are infiltrated? We know we have.
But the question is, how are these to be imparted? The
only efficient way is for whole-hearted Christian lives to be
lived in contact with the people. Precept is important.
Christian educational work in India is most important.
Preaching, too, is a divinely appointed method. Those are
needed who follow in Christ's footsteps, upon whom is the
spirit of the Lord as they go forth among the men and women
of India to preach good tidings to the poor and proclaim the
1 68 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
acceptable year of the Lord. But, above all, example is
necessary. Those who are in Government service are pre-
cluded from, in their official capacity, promoting the spread
of Christianity. But if they are Christians at all, they can-
not help bearing witness by their lives and actions, and by
their personal influence in private life. Contact with the
people must tell.
It is here that the great value of Medical Mission work is
manifest. It is following the highest example. Medical
Missions are quite one of the most important manifestations
at the present time in the whole world of the practical spirit
of Christianity. They use medical science for its highest pur-
pose. Taken at the lowest estimate they confer an enor-
mous boon on suffering humanity, not only in India but hi
China, Africa, Persia, Arabia and other countries which are
in great need of humanizing agencies.
So far as men and funds have been available, various
Missionary Societies have endeavoured to carry on this im-
portant work.
The Church Missionary Society, for instance, through its
Medical Mission Auxiliary, has planted out forty hospitals
with a staff of eighty-six doctors and fifty-two nurses. In
this way medical relief is being afforded annually to more
than a million sufferers, to whom also Christ is set forth as
the Saviour.
We often hear the objection that this work should be
done in our own land where it is alleged it is more needed.
It is done there. There can be no conflict between different
parts of the Christian's work. Those who are most earnest
and keen and devoted in work amongst the needy at home,
are just the people who are most in sympathy with those
working abroad. A living Church at home makes an active
Church abroad. From a medical standpoint it appears that
the need abroad is greater than at home. In Great Britain
it is said that there is one qualified medical man to every
1400 of the population. In India there is not one to every
MEDICAL MISSION WORK 169
100,000. A distinguished officer of the Indian Medical
Service has stated that it is doubtful whether five per cent,
of the Indian population are reached by skilled medical aid.
In London the mortality is barely twenty per thousand per
annum. In Indian cities, even when there is no plague, it
is quite double. In Kashmir about half the children born are
said to die in infancy. As if the pain and suffering of the
Eastern peoples were not sufficient, it is in many cases
aggravated by neglect and apathy, or by the cruel and bar-
barous treatment of untrained native practitioners and
ignorant impostors.
In Kashmir we are in the midst of a population of this
kind, with its high mortality and all its suffering. Let us
look at the work of the Mission Hospital from the standpoint
of the people of the country. They know that in it they have
a place to which they can go in time of need ; that it is open
to all, without distinction of race, creed or caste; that their
religious feelings will be respected, and that when admitted to
the hospital they will be treated with kindness, clothed, fed
and receive personal attention, and the necessary surgical or
medical treatment. They know that the institution is clean,
well-ordered, and that they will have a large measure of
freedom in receiving relatives and other visitors from their
homes. Those who come from the valley also know that they
will receive Christian instruction there. So far from con-
sidering this a reason for not coming, a great many of them
welcome the teaching, and not infrequently express their
appreciation of the friendly personal interest thus taken in
them. In the wards of the hospital, with these hundreds of
patients constantly in touch with Christian work and
Christian teaching, we have that very contact of race with
race, of Christianity with Mohammedanism and Hinduism,
which is needed, and which is so beneficial, and which is
essential if the people are to realize the nature of the Christian
Faith and its claims upon them.
Last year there were 23,642 new out-patients and 1979
1 70 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
in-patients in the hospital. What becomes of all these
people? They return to their homes. Many go to crowded
streets and alleys of the city. Very many disperse to scores
of villages scattered throughout the length and breadth of
the valley of Kashmir, others to the plains of India, some few
to distant mountain homes in Tibet, Afghanistan, and even
Yarkand and Khotan. Herdsmen, peasants, shopkeepers,
traders, landowners, priests, State officials every class is
represented, and so the work of softening prejudice, over-
coming bigotry, and smoothing down racial distrust goes on;
and in many a distant village, grateful appreciation is still
retained for very real benefits received, for the saving of
life, the restoration of sight, or relief from disabling pain
and disease. And thus, too, attention has been directed
toward the Great Physician, of Whose teaching such are the
fruits. And step by step, slowly it is true, but surely, the
way is being prepared for that Kingdom for the coming of
which so many pray in one of the commonest but most sacred
petitions.
" What a difference between such work and Bazaar
preaching. In the bazaar, shouting and argument; the
preacher contradicted, and Christianity and Englishmen
alike reviled and held up to contempt. It is indeed a work
which needs doing, but what gifts of tact and meekness are
needed for it. In the hospital, on the other hand, quiet,
gratitude, bigotry melting away, hard hearts thawing,
Christ revered, Christian ' altruism * acknowledged and
praised." *
The value, too, of medical work from the standpoint of
political economy is of interest. Every disabled subject
is a source of loss to the State. Agricultural or other work
is left undone, or imperfectly done. Every patient, previously
incapacitated for work, who is healed and restored to his
occupation, is a distinct gain to the country. So that medical
and surgical work directed in one year to the successful relief
1 Dr A. Neve, Mission Hospital Reports.
MEDICAL MISSION WORK 171
of several thousand patients is of direct political im-
portance.
There are not a few who do not, we regret to know,
believe in what they call " the Missionary part of our work,"
but for the sake of the great amount of relief to suffering
achieved by the Mission they give their cordial support.
We do not expect those who are not Christians to approve
of Christian Mission work. Such work is, however, carried
on for the benefit of all classes, without any distinction of
race or creed, and we are thankful for the help accorded by
those of any class, whatever their religious beliefs may be.
Philanthropic work forms a happy bond of union between those
whose views on most subjects may be very widely divergent.
Upon those, however, who are Christians, it is surely evident
unless their faith is purely nominal that Medical Mission
work has a very special claim a claim not based on isolated
texts from the Scriptures, but on the whole life, example and
precept of the Master.
Whatever our opinions may be about Missionaries and
Missionary methods there can be no doubt whatever in our
minds, if we are Christians at all, that the duty of evangeliz-
ing the world is laid upon the Church.
So that such objections as that the evangelization of
India or of Kashmir is impossible, or that it is undesirable,
are simply irrelevant. For the question for us is not whether
it is possible or desirable, but " What is the duty incumbent
on Christians ? "
One of the commonest objections to Mission work in
India is that the people's own religions are good enough,
and perhaps better for them than Christianity. Such an
objection can hardly come from Christian lips; for the de-
claration of, and witness to, the truth of our Faith is of the
essence of Christianity. Moreover, an acquaintance with
the religious beliefs of the country shows how defective
they are in ethics, and how overladen with gross superstitions.
Those who are imperfectly acquainted with practical
172 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
Mission work often assume that the preaching and teaching
of Christianity is disliked by the peoples of India, and is, so
to speak, forced upon unwilling hearers by ignorant and more
or less fanatical missionaries. This view would be amusing
if it were not so generally current. It is certainly not the
case in Kashmir. No doubt there are many amongst our
hearers who are apathetic and listless. There are others who
make no attempt to listen, who are too ill, in too much pain,
poor things ! too ignorant, or too certain that their own is the
one true faith. And, of course, there are always some who
are too worldly and sensual to even understand the teaching
of Christ. But these raise no objection to the preaching,
their attitude is rather one of indifference. On the other hand,
there are many who are quite the reverse, who listen with
attention, almost with eagerness, and some of whom audibly
assent. It is by no means uncommon for patients in the
wards to ask us to come and talk to them.
No, it is not the teaching they object to. It is the idea of
changing their religion, of breaking their caste, and being
formally, by the act of baptism, cut off from all their old
associations and family ties. There lies the crux.
The fight with Mohammedanism is a stern one. The work
goes on day after day and year after year, not only in Kashmir
but in other Mohammedan countries, with very little out-
ward sign of progress. The mass of the population appears
to have so little desire for righteousness that it does not
realize the inadequacy of Islam. Humanly speaking,
Mohammedanism owes its origin in a measure to the unfaith-
fulness of the Christian Church of those days. It is a
very serious question whether it does not owe its continuance
in these days in almost equal measure to the same cause.
Nowhere is the need for Christianity greater than in
Mohammedan lands. Nowhere is the challenge more emphatic
for us to abundantly prove that the Christian faith alone
has power to bear fruit.
The halo of romance which surrounds a sphere of work is
MEDICAL MISSION WORK 173
not always dispelled by closer contact. But when actively
engaged in grappling with obstacles, the eye is focussed on
near objects, and for a time more distant things are hazy or
unseen. Thus it is with the routine duties and wearing
details of Medical Mission work. Now it is the monotonous
and brain-fatiguing claims of language-study that distract.
Anon it is the exhausting demands of surgical practice under
difficulties. Again it is the spiritual, moral and intellectual
barrenness of the people, or the blatant and self-conceited
ignorance of their teachers. Nor are there wanting foes
from within. In a great undertaking, difficulties are inevi-
table. But the very obstacles in the path of progress spur
the traveller to even greater effort. And when success has
been achieved, then every drop of previous pain and toil is
transformed into the very essence of sweetness, enhancing
joy a thousand-fold.
CHAPTER XIII
DEVELOPMENT OP KASHMIR
Material Improvements Influence of Medical Mission Future of
Kashmir Probable Victory of Christian Faith and Ethics.
Ring in the valiant man and free,
t The larger heart, the kindlier hand ;
Ring out the darkness of the land,
Ring in the Christ that is to be.
TENNYSON.
EVEN the quietest and most secluded spot cannot resist the
tide of progress and advance which beats upon its shores.
Kashmir is undergoing rapid changes. The prices of food
have increased immensely. This may be borne with a
measure of equanimity, when we recognize that our loss is
the gain of the actual working-classes of the population. The
liberal rates of pay offered by Government Departments have
made both skilled and untrained labour more expensive and
difficult to obtain. Difficulties of transport, too, in the
valley may increase if changes in time-honoured arrange-
ments are hurried on precipitately.
Visitors returning to the country, after an absence of a
few years, find many material improvements new houses,
metalled roads, substantial masonry bridges, solid embank-
ments and electric lights. Such changes at once strike the
eye. But they are only an index to still greater reforms.
The creation of the State Council, the inauguration of the
land settlement and the reorganization of the Financial,
Public Works, Postal, Telegraph and Forest Departments,
have contributed largely to the material, and not a little, we
may hope, to the moral welfare of the subjects of His Highness
the Maharajah. And looked at simply from this standpoint,
the growth and development of the Mission Hospital is
worthy of some notice. This forms now one of the most im-
portant public buildings in Kashmir. Year by year it has
DEVELOPMENT OF KASHMIR 175
increased in size to enable it to cope with the demands made
upon its accommodation and resources by an ever-growing
multitude of patients. During the past ten years 436,364
visits from out-patients have been recorded, 14,727 have
been taken into the wards of the hospital as in-patients and
half a million meals have been supplied free. The large
number of surgical operations, 40,710, shows how far the
confidence of the people has been secured. There is no doubt
that the Kashmiris believe more in surgery than in medicine ;
the reason, of course, being that the results of the former are
so much more tangible. The removal of a large tumour or
the extraction of a " cataract " can be appreciated by
the most ignorant, and the use of chloroform and other
anaesthetics does much to remove the dread of the more
serious operations. Surgically the success cannot be gain-
said. Year by year increasing numbers of sick are relieved,
and a higher standard of work aimed at. Year by year, too,
we see evidences, not indeed so tangible as surgical statistics,
but as incontrovertible, that prejudices and bigotry are
breaking down. We see racial and religious barriers yielding,
and a new spirit at work.
Although the outlook for Kashmir is, on the whole, bright,
there are some shadows. There is ample room for increase
in the population. For immense areas may still be brought
under cultivation. Famine will never again, under wise
administration, assume the appalling proportions of the
years 1878-9. Sanitation has had great victories in the past
notably the introduction of a supply of pure water to the
city, whereby thousands of lives have been saved in subse-
quent cholera epidemics. In the future it will push these
successes further, and also deal with the causes underlying
the deficient female population. Much, for instance, may be
effected by more careful and thorough vaccination.
Already there are signs of real danger from the rapid
increase of tuberculosis in the valley. This will need to be
vigorously combated, although the time is not yet ripe for
i;6 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
the adoption of segregation measures. Leprosy also will
have to be exterminated.
The low-lying ground round the Jhelum River will, it is
to be feared, continue to be liable to serious periodic inunda-
tion. The catchment area is so enormous and discharges
its waters so rapidly into the main stream, that the deepening
of the river-bed at and above Baramula, although mitigating,
will not prevent the occurrence of floods. It is a pity that
the wisdom of King Asoka or the Emperor Akbar, in placing
their respective capitals above flood level, was not imitated
by the founders of, and more recent builders in, the present
city of Srinagar, such important parts of which lie below flood
level. Much can, however, still be achieved in the direction
of draining and reclaiming swamps. Crops may be improved
in quality, and a greater variety be introduced. With its
copious water-supply, unlimited electrical power will be
available in Kashmir when required for commercial use.
The railway when constructed will give a great impetus to
trade. Sooner or later the country will be thrown open to
capital.
The northern races and those living in mountainous
countries have in time past been those who have taken a
leading part in history. Kashmir may have a great future
before it. In physique and intellectual development its
people compare most favourably with those of any part
of India.
The administration is steadily improving; and as officers
of better training and with higher ideals replace those of the
old school, there will be still greater progress, and many tyran-
nical abuses which still exist will disappear.
The extension of education will also bring about great
changes. At present the villages and outlying valleys are
virgin soil. Female education, by bringing the earliest
possible influence and training to bear upon the children,
through their mothers, will elevate the race in health, mind
and morals. Technical education has a great future before
DEVELOPMENT OF KASHMIR 177
it. The Kashmiris are naturally clever with their hands.
Careful instruction will improve the quality of the art work
already produced. And fresh outlets will be found for skill.
Under favourable conditions, and especially if there were
facilities for transport, such as a railway or even the pro-
jected cable way, much raw material might be prepared or
manufactured for export. Various existing industries might
be developed and fresh ones started, such, for instance, as
basket-weaving, oil-presses, mills for cloth and linen, match
factories, potteries, paper-works, tanneries, dye and soap
works, saw-mills, rope factories and workshops for high-class
carpentry and cabinetmaking.
Above all, the greatest advance is to be looked for in the
direction of moral improvement. No amount of material
prosperity or of ordinary education will, for instance,
remedy the incredible amount of perjury which exists in
Kashmir at the present time, and which comes to a focus in
the law courts. A healthy public opinion is necessary. At
present this is conspicuous by its absence. But Kashmir
has been downtrodden for centuries and is only now emerging
from mediaeval conditions.
In this connection the subject of religion cannot be
ignored. Kashmir is essentially a Mohammedan country.
But Islam is not a regenerating force. The condition of
Mohammedan lands is well known. And they all have a
family likeness. For the defects of the system are more
easily assimilated than its elements of loftiness. Modern
Islam in India is at present engaged in putting new patches
on an old garment. But the old garment will not last.
Indeed Mohammedanism in India shows curious traces
of its prolonged contact with Hinduism. And at the present
time it is being profoundly influenced by its Christian sur-
roundings.
The new Mohammedan University, if conducted on
modern lines, will accentuate this influence and tend to em-
phasize the nobler and Theistic aspect of the religion, the
1 78 BEYOND THE PIR PANJAL
Arabian founder of which will occupy a less important
position as his limitations become more clearly recognized.
Hinduism has still great vitality and a remarkable capacity
for the absorption of other religious systems and doctrines.
Its time-honoured foundations, however, must eventually
be sapped by the progress of education. It is only a question
of time.
Kashmir will derive its moral springs of action more and
more from Christian Faith and Christian Ethics.
This is not the mere dream of an enthusiast! The Car of
Progress is moving slowly forward. It must not be made to
travel too fast. In the East, reaction follows very closely
upon precipitate action.
During the past quarter of a century the material, intel-
lectual and moral advancement of Kashmir has, however,
been great and altogether unprecedented in its previous
history. And if even the present rate is maintained, the
future of Kashmir will become increasingly hopeful and
happy as the seed which is now being widely sown comes to
fruition.
HOWIE AND SEATH, PRINTERS, EDINBURGH.
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY
Los Angeles
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