Every year, thousands of tourists travel to the northern most part of India to enjoy the beauty of Kashmir, described as ‘paradise on earth’ by a besotted Mughal emperor. It was to experience this natural beauty that we journeyed to the valley from Kerala. We were welcomed by cool winds and rain at Srinagar airport. Our driver Irshad said that it had been raining continuously for four days.
Though we meant to visit Pahalgam and Gulmarg, we were confined to Srinagar, as the roads to these places were flooded. Two and a half days were spent exploring the gardens, Dal Lake and many shops in Srinagar. The shikara ride in Nigeen Lake was refreshing and the natural beauty of the lake and the surrounding scenery exhilarating.
We stayed at Hotel Regal Palace in Lal Chowk. On the morning of September 7, a day before our scheduled departure, the Jhelum started overflowing into the city. By 2.00 p.m., the water had entered the hotel’s basement. Gradually we lost power supply and, late in the evening, mobile connectivity too. We were cut off from the rest of the world. Little did we know that the hotel, its owners, around 15 staff and the 35-odd guests would make our world for the next four and a half days!
By midnight, the water rose to fill about half of the ground floor. The staff toiled to bring all the things to the first floor. After a night filled with the sound of barking dogs and crying men and women from neighbouring buildings, we woke up to see water all around us. The whole city had become a part of the mighty Jhelum.
Since we couldn’t leave, many of the guests were worried and depressed. Farooq Shah, the owner, comforted us and promised that he and his staff would leave the building only after the last guest was escorted to safety. He also promised everyone that he would provide food and drinking water. His calm demeanour, amid much loss, was uncommon.
Farooq talked to us about the plight of the ordinary Kashmiri caught in the struggle between two neighbouring nations. The heavy military presence in the valley had made the police toothless. The civil administration had done little to improve living standards. Tourism was a good source of revenue but, with the flood, that hope was also gone.
True to his word, Farooq and his staff took extreme care and provided us with food and drinking water, when several thousands of people were stranded. Sadath, the young and handsome general manager who was also the co-owner, risked his life swimming in the dangerous waters to get supplies from a neighbouring building.
As the waters slowly receded by the second day, the staff and some of us advanced to the next building with the help of ropes and a ladder and reached the bund road by the side of the Jhelum. At a distance, a part of the bund had breached and prevented people from crossing to the other side. I met hundreds of people waiting for the water to recede. All along we could see army helicopters flying above. The locals’ attitude towards the army seemed quite negative. When asked if the army wouldn’t help, a middle-aged man remarked: “Sir, the military won’t come to help us. Here they usually come to kill only.”
The reply was an eye-opener for those of us from Kerala, as our state usually sought the help of the military in adverse situations. “The changing governments use us for gain and forget us after election,” said another who made his livelihood from a shikara on the Dal Lake.
“Sir, we don’t have the military or the police to help us. We are caught in the struggle between India and Pakistan. Though we are a part of India, the government does not care for us,” said a smart gentleman, who was introduced to us as a school teacher.
“We are most scared during the curfew; sometimes imposed for weeks... the situation is similar to now. No shops will be open, no one ventures out and the mobile network may be disconnected. If there are not enough food reserves we may starve,” said a woman whose husband worked on a houseboat. These revelations by the local Kashmiris were not the impression we had about Kashmir and its people.
By the afternoon of the fourth day, the water level receded, allowing us to cross to the other side. From there we crossed the river on a hanging bridge and got help from an army boat that dropped us near a road from where we reached the airport.
Memories of Kashmir still haunt us. Many of those who helped us, especially the hotel staff, were worried about their loved ones caught in the flood. Their houses had been submerged. But they helped and comforted us with a smile that’s hard to forget. Those who travelled before us might have seen the beauty of Kashmir, but none would have seen the real beauty of the Kashmiris as we did.
The author is the director of Dr. Paul’s Speciality Dental Clinic, Kolenchery, Kerala. drjospol@gmail.com
