Here we shot for a couple of hours before tiffin, and afterwards till evening closed in. It was not one of the great shoots like we have in the autumn, and which I will describe later, but was none the less enjoyable, and being the last of the season each made the most of it.
KOTWAL FROM NEAR THE DAL DARWAZA
At the end of March I visited Harwan, a very favourite spot, once the abode of a famous Buddhist saint, and now best known as the site of the reservoir for the water-supply of Srinagar and of the tanks for trout-breeding. Rain had fallen in the night, and heavy clouds hung overhead with only occasional glimpses of intensely clear blue sky between them. But spring was now clearly advancing. The great chenar trees, two and three centuries old, were still bare, but the willows were showing fresh young leaves; the apricot trees were covered with clouds of blossom, pink and white. The mountain-sides were dotted with white wild cherry and pear and apple in full bloom; the ground was often white like snow with the fallen petals; the young hazel-nut leaves gave freshness to the mountain-side; and near at hand were violets, anemones, and cuckoo flowers. The air was rich with the scent of the fruit trees. Swarms of bees were humming around them; butterflies—tortoise-shell, clouded yellow, and cabbage-white—fluttered in the sunshine; and the lively twittering of birds—bulbuls, goldfinches, wagtails, and tits—gave yet one further evidence of the awakening spring.
Each spot in Kashmir one is inclined to think the most beautiful of all—perhaps because each in some particular excels the rest. Certainly Harwan has many fascinations of its own. Rising sheer behind was a mountain crowned with dark precipices overhung by heavy clouds through which pierced the snowy summit. Clear crystal streams rushed along the valley with a cheery rustling sound. In the middle distance lay the placid Dal Lake—on the far side overshadowed by the Hari Parbat fort. The main valley was interspersed with village clumps of fresh willow, clouds of fruit blossom, and majestic chenars. In the far distance lay the snowy ranges of the Pir Panjal, the Kaj Nag, and Khagan; and facing round again to the north rose the striking Mahadeo peak—rocky, bold and precipitous, and pine-clad to near the summit.
And one of the further attractions of Kashmir is not only that each spot is so different from the other, but that each spot has a different aspect every day. Bright days are the more numerous, but dull days also have no less striking attractions. The day after our arrival at Harwan was still and heavy; the whole sky was overhung with clouds, though they were high above the mountains, and even the most distant ranges showed up with unusual clearness white and distinct against the grey monotone sky. The stillness and the heavy cloud evidently portended a storm, and in the afternoon the distant horizon grew darker and darker. The snowy mountains were gradually obscured from view. Then the middle distance became black and threatening. At the same time on the mountain craigs behind heavy clouds imperceptibly settled down, and the great cliff grew darker and darker. Blackness seemed to grow all round, and the mountain summits with the angry clouds upon them looked more and more sombre and threatening. Meanwhile all was still and noiseless. Then suddenly out of the stillness came a rush of air. The poplar trees bent like whips. The long shoots of the willow trees lashed backwards and forwards. Great drops of rain came spitting down. A bright, quick flash darted out from the mountain. Then crash came the thunder—clap after clap—and torrents of rain. Few things in Nature are more impressive than a thunderstorm among the mountains.
THE LULL BEFORE THE STORM, DAL LAKE