Of course, part of the delay was due, and all was attributed, to the unusually bad state of the roads. The heavy storms and floods which, by wrecking the road, had delayed us so much, naturally checked the heavy transport still more; and severe congestion of bullock-carts resulted at all the halting-places along the route. Still, the main cause of delay lies in the fact that the monopoly of transport has been granted by the Maharajah to one Danjibhoy, who charges what he pleases, and takes such time over his arrangements as suits his Oriental mind.
The motto over the Transport Office door might well be “Ohne Hast—mit Rast!”
The other (much-cherished) monopoly in this favoured land is that enjoyed by Mr. Nedou, the owner of THE HOTEL in Kashmir.
We were advised when at Lahore to approach Mr. Nedou (who winters in his branch there) with many salaams and much “kow-towing,” in order to make a certainty of being received into his select circle in Kashmir. The great man was quite kind, and promised that he would do his best for us; and he was as good as his word, as we were immediately welcomed and permitted to add two to the four persons already inhabiting the hostelry. I confess that, even after a dâk bungalow of the most inferior quality—such as that at Ghari Habibullah or Baramula—Mr. Nedou’s hotel fails to impress one with an undue sense of luxury. In fact, it presented an even desolate and forlorn appearance with its gloomy and chilly passages and cheerless bed-vaults.
CHAPTER V
FIRST IMPRESSIONS OF SRINAGAR
We learnt that the earthquake of this morning was far more than the ordinary affair that we had taken it to be. The hotel showed signs of a struggle for existence. Large cracks in the plaster, spanned by strips of paper gummed across to show if they widened, and little heaps of crumbled mortar on the floors, betrayed that the grip of mother earth had been no feeble one.
Telegrams from Lahore inquired if the rumour was true that Srinagar had been much damaged, and reported an awful destruction and loss of life at Dharmsala. I think if we had fully known what an earthquake really meant, we should not have so calmly gone back to bed again!
The advent of Mrs. Smithson upon the scene relieved a certain anxiety which we had felt as to immediate plans. The idea of rushing into Astor had been given up, we found—not so much on account of our tardy arrival, permits being still obtainable, but on account of the impossibility—at any rate for ladies—of forcing the high passes which the late season has kept safely sealed.
Walter, having pawed the ground in feverish impatience for some days, had gone off into a region said to be full of bara singh; so we decided to possess our souls in patience for a little time, and remain quietly in Srinagar. Accordingly, instead of unpacking our “detonating musquetoons,” we exhumed our evening clothes, and began life in Srinagar with a cheerful dinner at the Residency.
Friday, April 7th.—We are evidently somewhat premature here as far as climate goes. The weather since our arrival has become cold and grey, and we have seemed on the verge of another snowfall. However, the clerk of the weather has refrained from such an insult, contenting himself with sending a breeze down upon us fresh from the “Roof of the World,” and laden with the chilly moisture of the snows. We have consumed great quantities of wood, vainly endeavouring to warm up the den which Mr. Nedou has let to us as a sitting-room. Fires are not the fashion in the public rooms—probably because the only “public” besides ourselves consist of one or two enterprising sportsmen, who doubtless are acclimatising themselves to camp life amid the snows, and have implored the proprietor to save his fuel and keep the outer doors open.