Photo. The Jaint
Temple Vista in Rajasthan - India. This temple is called Ranakpur. It`s
locataed 60 kilometres north of Udaipur and is set in verdant hills and gardens.
© Joe Gill.
Later on in a cafe I chat to an
Israeli girl and she asks, did you feel the earthquake? Ah! That was it - 7.6 on
the f-ing Richter scale over in Islamabad, up here less so. Then she tells me
about the bus crash, 13 dead including one Israeli.
At the money changers later they tell me, no, not one crash - caused by a
falling rock - but three. Not 13 dead but 50 - pictures in the local newspaper
prove it. Yes, and am I surprised? F*** no, these guys overtake on blind bends,
overtake in convoys and play chicken with one another on mountain passes. Bus
drivers are homicidal maniacs, or perhaps they rely on Shiva or whoever dangles
from their mirror. So I am glad I prayed all the way here.
Today it down poured and hailed, long after monsoon was supposed to be over.
The guy in the cafe blamed global warming and of course GW Bush. Like the
Kashmiris, blaming the Brits and Americans for not helping them to freedom.
I arrived last night at 2am down the road at Gaggal,
there was one cab man asleep in his car when I got off the bus. He woke up with
a tap on the window and was breezy as anything, zipping me along mountain roads
to Mcleod Ganj, spiritual capital for Tibetans in India and just up from
Dharamsala. I offered a lift to a solemn Indian boy who just gets out the car
and doesn't even say thanks.
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Photo. A
smiling boy. © Joe Gill. |
 |
The journey from Srinigar to here was hellish - well, the first
part through mountains to Jammu was beautiful, we went through a monkey park and saw
a stunning river delta from on high and then arrived in Jammu, which is a
dump. No problems, I just waited for bus which took Indian time to leave.
|
The night ride from hell was along a half-built road for five hours. I
prayed, believe me. So weird for me to be only westerner in these places,
not understanding a word.
Photo. A Kashmir lorry driver - the picture was taken
on the road in east of Srinigar.
©
Joe Gill. |
 |
I am elated when later that night, after waking up night porters in several
hotels to be told there were no rooms in Mcleod Ganj, with my fantastic young
cabbie we find a hotel with a room 2km up the road in the village of Bhagsu. The
room is fine and I am at last in something like civilisation after practically
being held hostage for 3 days by the disgusting and greedy Mr. Ramzan of Swan
boathouse on Dal Lake (Watch out for his cohorts selling you a trip to Kashmir
in Delhi - when you get there by plane your host will try and take another $300
off you. I was naive and fresh to India and I have learnt my lesson).
For two and a half days I was looked after by his devout and sweet enough
henchman, Hafiz, whose catchphrase when I opened my wallet wondering how much to
pay, was "make the people happy". I certainly did. Still, he took me to the
mountains and rode with me through verdant breathtaking Himalayan valleys
beneath snowy crags, a true cowboy he was.
I tried to mimick the click clicking and neighing the
Kashmiris used to get the horses to go, with minimal success. Anyway I felt like
I was in a Kashmiri western, John Wayne slouching in the saddle, checking the
hills for Injuns, or was that armed militants? They never showed, although
cowboy asked if I could change a one million euro note or something because he
knows some [signs trigger] people who can't go to the bank in case they get
arrested.
Photos. The Jaint Temple Vista in Rajasthan
- India (left), and carvings from this temple (right).
© Joe Gill.
 |
 |
I look vague and we pass on to issue of marriage, an Indian favourite,
and how I must get a poor one who will always follow me, and not go to market
like he used to before being married. "You can take 100 medicines for your
health but sex is the best cure," he tells me and who
can argue with that? When I go back I must speak to my mother, he says, meet
girls and get married pronto. Maybe I can bring a Kashmiri girl back, like the
shy one we picked up with her flirtatious mother while riding through a mountain
village?
Hafiz, when not trying to procure girls for me, was mournful and devout, and
confessed to smoking a lot of the mountain weed. His brother was killed in a
grizzly work accident (he was electrocuted along with three others, leaving
several children behind). Anyway day two was the beginning of Ramadan, the stars
confirmed it, and on the houseboat, which looked over Dal Lake, very pretty,
with eagles floating over head, boatman going by offering flowers, postcards and
camera batteries, and the ethereal chant and prayer from discordant voices over
loudspeakers from the mosque that was with me from 5am until the evening.
|
Photo. A gypsy woman with veil. I
met gypsies on my way and drank salt tea.
© Joe Gill.
Haffi and driver Yusef, who is dead friendly and all hugs, were a bit
out of it all day, no water or tea for them.
I met gypsies and drank salt tea among dirty toddlers and a pot on an
open fire in their falling down house in the dark, next to a ruined Hindu
temple. |
 |
In the evening along the country roads wood smoke wafts through the trees
and makes your eyes water, just as it must have done in England 200
or 500 years ago.
Then comes 6.15 and they turn on the car radio and listen to the imam
announce end of first fast day and they are cockahoops, ploughing into the
apples and dates they bought en route, eating at the first kebab stand and then
on to a greasy restaurant where I treat them. Next day I am out of there. Enough
of filthy drab Srinigar, polite Indian soldiers and them mountains.
Joe Gill, 9 October
2005
Aditional
information
On Saturday 8 October this year (2005) a
powerful earthquake measuring 7.6 on the Richter scale struck the region
bordering Pakistan, northern India, and Afghanistan. This quake is estimated to
be responsible for at least 20,000 deaths in southern Asia, and the death toll
may be as high as 30,000 according to local officials (from an article on Travel
Explorations 11 October 2005).
As the author of the article, Joe Gill,
reports to Travel Explorations: "I was out of Kashmir when it happened but I
felt it, although compared to what the people in Pakistan/Kashmir suffered my
experience was very trivial".
Presentation of the author:
|
Joe Gill is a freelance journalist working in London,
specialising in the non-profit sector, international development and Latin
America.
Photo. Joe Gill from England.
© Joe Gill. |
 |
Contact
details: Joe Gill, journalist, London 44 207 607 4120.
(M)
07748597168
(H) 0207 6074120
E-mail:
joegill00@hotmail.com.
From
Travel Explorations: Everybody can do something to help those affected
by the earthquake! People who have passion for travelling care about other
people. If you would like to donate to the relief effort, there are several
organisations who offer both immediate and long term assistance as Care, Red
Cross, Save the Children, UNICEF and others.
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