Danny and the Round the Bend Ski Club (Part 3).
But it was all good fun, and the weather was wonderful, with bright clear days and a hot sun. Far across the Vale of Kashmir, some 40 miles north, rose Nanga Parbat. This 25,000 ft plus triangular peak lay at the Western end of the Himalayas. The morning sun on the snows of the East face glowed pink and white like fire against the deep blue background: it was a magical sight that stays with you for a lifetime (like the rising sun over the bows, going into Bombay).
With our crude equpment, and the rough-and-ready orginisation of the School, you'd expect a lot of injuries, but I can't remember any serious ones. Basically, with the soles of our skis more like glass-paper than glass, and the (wood) edges badly worn, it was difficult to reach any speed before the next attempted turn brought you down. I suppose they must have had a luge to get immobile casualties down off the mountain, but I never saw it used (or even practised).
These days I suppose they just whistle up a helicopter, but in more primitive times you had this box-like sled (for the casualty) with double shafts fore-and-aft. In Austria the luge came out on a Sunday morning after Mass. They hauled it up to the "patient" on whatever lift they had. One of the village lads had volunteered (?) as victim. The contraption then started down with one instructor in the fore shafts and another between the rear pair.
As the heavy thing rapidly accelerated down the mountain, it took real skill to keep it under control, and of course sometimes the luge would win, often capsizing, hurling out the occupant, and bringing his violent abuse down on the two hapless "drivers", sprawled in the snow. Merriment all round (what would have happened if it had been our "instructors" in control, I shudder to think).
All too soon our month was up and we took the pony express back to Srinagar. There we said farewell to whatever beards we'd been able to grow (employing a professional with a cut-throat for the job), and looked round the place for a few days before starting out on our way back.
Srinagar was renowned for its silversmiths, and I had some tiny silver plates made of my name, number and (on a second, smaller one) the legend: "RC (and Blood Group). These were sewn on to my watch-strap as a back-up to the dog tags we wore (or were supposed to wear). IIRC, there were two of these, one green and and one red: one fire and the other water-proof. The hope was that, if they picked you up alive, they'd know what to transfuse you with, and if dead, which part of the cemetery to bury you in, and what name to put on the headstone. (The little silver plates soon fell off).
Kashmiri men had devised an interesting form of central heating. A small round basket was lined with baked clay, and into it was placed live charcoal. They'd settle down, swathed in a blanket, with this basket held between crossed legs under the blanket. I could see how this idea would keep out the cold very well, but was told that it was apt to cause an unpleasant form of cancer.
Kashmir was an anomalous State * in that its people were largely Muslim, but ruled by a Hindu Rajah. This caused difficullties in provisioning British forces there. Bully beef was anathema to the Rajah: tinned ham or "Spam" equally so to his subjects. The solution was to re-label all imported tins of meat as "goat", irrespective of the contents. This subterfuge, which deceived nobody, satisfied both sensibilities.
* It may be mostly forgotten now, but the Raj at the height of its power only ruled directly over 3/5 of India. Over the other 2/5 we ruled indirectly through the Rajahs and Maharajahs of the Native States. These were largely autonomous, although British (Indian) Law, Police, railways, Posts, telegraphs and currency held sway everywhere.
At Partition, there were 550 odd of these States, which had now to choose to join either India or Pakistan. Either way, they lasted about five minutes before the Rajah got his P45 (and a Pension if he were lucky) and their new country took over. At least, under the Raj, the Rajah still "retained the name and all the appearances of a King" ("Lear", shaky quotation?) . That was, of course, so long as he behaved himself and did as he was told (by the Political Resident). Otherwise he was out , and the Viceroy appointed a more malleable member of his clan in his place.
Srinagar, with the famous Dal lake and its houseboats, was a lovely place, not unlike our Lake District but on a much larger scale (and much warmer - and drier ! - in Summer). It is sad to think that the problem of dual loyalties snowballed after Partition, with India and Pakistan both laying claim to the territory, and fighting four wars (so far) over it, to the immense misery of the inhabitants.
(This was to have been the last Part of this tale, but it just grew, so there'll be more).
Once again, Goodnight, all,
Danny42C.
You can't have too much of a good thing !