Tag: angrez

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Five Yogis, Shankaracharya, Mughal Painting, 17th Century

One of the earliest instance of western art mixing up with Kashmir.

“Plate 231/ Harvard 1983. 620 recto Hindu Holy Men Artist: attributed to Govardhan Mughal school Circa 1630-1635 24,1 x 15,2 cm Watercolour on paper Private Collection, Courtesy of the Harvard University Art Museums. Govardhan’s miniature brings to life five Hindu holy men meditating beneath a neem tree near an early Kashmiri temple close to Srinagar, seen in the background. Each portrait represents a stage of life. In the foreground, a languid youth with a golden sea of curls reclines opposite the figure, a middle-aged sanyasi whose other-worldly gaze, self-grown shawl of long hair, and claw-like fingernails attest to his shedding of almost every mundane activity. To his left, sits an older devotee, whose expressive, disciplined face implies both intellectual power and spiritual grace. At the left of the miniature, momentarily distracted from his elevated state, a dark-bearded figure with a mala (rosary) and a turban wound from his own hair, looks out beyond the frame. Behind 124 the others reclines a holy man whose tense expression hints of troubled dreams. In the foreground, a fire smoulders, producing both warmth and the ashes worn instead of clothing by these aspiring saints. Nudes are rare in Mughal art, and most of those known to us depict holy men. Although the pose of the naked chela (apprentice) here was inspired by an engraving of Saint Chrysostom, interpreted as an Odalisque by the German printmaker Barthold Beham (1502-1540), Govardhan not only changed her sex but trimmed several years from her age. So convincing is the young sadhu that Govardhan’s adjustments to the western prototype must have been studied from life. Inasmuch as Prince Dārā Shikoh was so concerned with the varieties of religious personality, it is likely that this remarkable picture, one of Mughal art’s most serious investigations of the human spirits, was commissioned by him. Literature: we are grateful to Gauvin Bailey for discovering Barthold Beham’s prototype, for which see: Bartsch 1978, vol. XV [8], No. 43.”

~ Indian Paintings in the St. Petersburg Muraqqa by Stewart Cary Welch, 1996

The hill and temple depicted is probably Shankaracharya of Srinagar, the iconic symbol from the city. Although Welch identifies the tree as Neem, however, Neem is not that common in Kashmir and certainly not a common motif for art around Kashmir. It is possible the tree depicted is Brimji (celtis australis/Nettle Tree). Brimji is a common tree near holy sites of Kashmiri Pandits, this shade providing tree is considered holy by Kashmiris.

Asoka and Shankaracharya hill by Abanindranath Tagore, 20th century

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Govardhan was the son of Bhavani Das, a minor painter in the Mughal imperial atelier. Govardhan began his career during the reign of Akbar. Govardhan was a Khanazad (born in family), house born slaves, trained since birth for service to royal family.

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The Penance of Saint John Chrysostom by Barthel Beham, (1502–1540) was a German engraver, miniaturist and painter.

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On Khanazad


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I Married a Dinosaur


In 1922, Barnum “Mr. Bones” Brown, the famous American paleontologist got married a second time. He sent his wife to Srinagar for a solitary “honeymoon” while he head to Baluchistan’s Bugti hills to look for bones of Baluchitherium, the largest land mammal that looked like a Rhino. His wife Lilian Brown wrote the book “I Married a Dinosaur” (1950).
She stayed at Houseboat no.6 at Sonwar Bagh.

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You can read the book here: at Hathi Trust

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‘Paris Lingerie House’, Residency Road

In January, I discovered this rare shop in Srinagar.

‘Paris Lingerie House’, Residency Road. From Louise Weiss’s Cachemire (1955).

In 1920s, products from the shop were popular among expat British.

The trigger was the story of tailor named Butterfly given in ‘Travels in Kashmir’ (1989) by Brigid Keenan.

“And on other end we have the story of a Kashmiri tailor named Butterfly, maker of finest lingerie for British in India, who accidentally embarrassed his Memsahib clients when he brought out a catalogue carrying neatly sketched details of his comfy products and the names of the elite clients who had bought them.”

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Only Kashmiri on Mars, 1898


In 1897-98 when H.G. Wells came out with his ‘The War of the World’ it took the western world by storm. The plot set in London had aliens from Mars who almost succeed at exterminating humans on this planet only to be stopped accidentally by microbial infection. Inspired by the success of plot and world’s fascination with Mars, a slew of derivative unofficial spinoffs by other science fiction writers followed. In one of the best know unofficial sequels to ‘The War of the World’, a Kashmiri, the only human living on planet Mars, puts end to the Martian scourge and saves earth for human race.

In ‘Edison’s Conquest of Mars’ written by American astronomer Garrett P. Serviss in 1898, actions begins where ‘The War of the World’ ends. Martians have been defeated, but humans know they will be back to finish the job. To stop them, a group of brave men lead by American inventor Thomas Alva Edison decide to take the fight to the Martians. In a they leave for Mars using the ‘anti-gravity’ device built by Edison. And on reaching Mars what do they find besides the giant Martians? Surprise! Surprise! A beautiful Kashmiri girl, the last one remaining of the race of humans that nine thousand years had been abducted from Kashmir and taken to Mars as slaves, the one who now sings songs to the aliens and keeps them entertained. The girl offers them the solution to the Martian problem, she tells them how to flood the canals of Mars and end the Martian civilisation.

I am not making this up. An extract from the book:

One of the first bits of information which the Professor had given out was the name of the girl. 


We Learn Her Name. 

It was Aina (pronounced Ah-ee-na).This news was flashed throughout the squadron, and the name of our beautiful captive was on the lips of all.
After that came her story. It was a marvellous narrative. Translated into our tongue it ran as follows:
“The traditions of my fathers, handed down for generations so many that no one can number them, declare that the planet of Mars was not the place of our origin.”
“Ages and ages ago our forefathers dwelt on another and distant world that was nearer to the sun than this one is, and enjoyed brighter daylight than we have here.”
“They dwelt—as I have often heard the story from my father, who had learned it by heart from his father, and he from his—in a beautiful valley that was surrounded by enormous mountains towering into the clouds and white about their tops with snow that never melted. In the valley were lakes, around which clustered the dwellings of our race.”
“It was, the traditions say, a land wonderful for its fertility, filled with all things that the heart could desire, splendid with flowers and rich with luscious fruits.”
“It was a land of music, and the people who dwelt in it were very happy.”
While the girl was telling this part of her story the Heidelberg Professor became visibly more and more excited. Presently he could keep quiet no longer, and suddenly exclaimed, turning to us who were listening, as the words of the girl were interpreted for us by one of the other linguists:
“Gentlemen, it is the Vale of Cashmere! Has not my great countryman, Adelung, so declared? Has he not said that the Valley of Cashmere was the cradle of the human race already?”
“From the Valley of Cashmere to the planet Mars—what a romance!” exclaimed one of the bystanders.
Colonel Smith appeared to be particularly moved, and I heard him humming under his breath, greatly to my astonishment, for this rough soldier was not much given to poetry or music:
“Who has not heard of the Vale of Cashmere,
  With its roses the brightest that earth ever gave;
Its temples, its grottoes, its fountains as clear,
  As the love-lighted eyes that hang over the wave.”
Mr. Sidney Phillips, standing by, and also catching the murmur of Colonel Smith’s words, showed in his handsome countenance some indications of distress, as if he wished he had thought of those lines himself.


Aina Tells Her Story.

The girl resumed her narrative:”Suddenly there dropped down out of the sky strange gigantic enemies, armed with mysterious weapons, and began to slay and burn and make desolate. Our forefathers could not withstand them. They seemed like demons, who had been sent from the abodes of evil to destroy our race.”
“Some of the wise men said that this thing had come upon our people because they had been very wicked, and the gods in Heaven were angry. Some said they came from the moon, and some from the far-away stars. But of these things my forefathers knew nothing for a certainty.”
“The destroyers showed no mercy to the inhabitants of the beautiful valley. Not content with making it a desert, they swept over other parts of the earth.”
“The tradition says that they carried off from the valley, which was our native land, a large number of our people, taking them first into a strange country, where there were oceans of sand, but where a great river, flowing through the midst of the sands, created a narrow land of fertility. Here, after having slain and driven out the native inhabitants, they remained for many years, keeping our people, whom they had carried into captivity, as slaves.”

The plot twist devised by Garrett P. Serviss mashed up some of the more popular obsessions of the western world around that time: ‘Canals of Mars’, ‘Eden on Earth’. The idea of Kashmir as Eden comes from 1806 writings of German philologist Johann Christoph Adelung who attempting to explain the common origin of all languages, postulated Kashmir as cradle of entire human civilisation. Add to that the romantic image of Kashmir in western mind as created by Thomas Moore’s famous lines from Lalla Rookh (1817) – ‘Who hasn’t heard of the Valley of Kashmir?‘, an exotic science fiction brew, (or Kehwa as we Kashmiris would prefer) is ready.

So, Who hasn’t heard of the Valley of Kashmir? Apparently, even Martians have!

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Read:
Edison’s Conquest of Mars (1898) here at gutenberg.org

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Portrait of a Raider


One of few works which gives a name and a face to the anonymous horde of ‘Kabailis’ that descended upon Kashmir in 1947-48. 
Gulmar, though his big hawk-like nose rather marred his good looks, had the attraction of youth, and was divertingly Mahsud. He asked direct, practical questions on everything. Like Rahim he had admirable manners – Pathans may prove the best servants in the world.; but he was restless, a piece of quicksilver, you could never ignore him. Possessor evidently of a strong character, you felt that, if you didn’t look out, he would soon have complete control of your affairs.
He did not seem physically very tough. Within days he fell a victim to Karachi belly, and I was doctoring him with liver pills; he also blistered his feet accompanying me on walks, not yet vigorous ones because of my recent operation. Admittedly he had a new pair of chaplis – the heavy, sandal-like shoes worn by Pathans; they had been bought in honour of his fresh employment, and eventually of course would be paid for by me. But, like Rahim, he plainly thought physical exercise crazy. If you had no need to walk you didn’t do it; you sat around and got fat.
During these strolls he soon became a keen and adept helper in my photographic efforts. It was a new form of shikar or sport. From just behind me he would crack jokes ingeniously with the victims, diverting their attention from the lens, keeping their faces alive until the moment of the shot – and then, the deed done, would laugh delightedly at their surprise.
When we were out shooting in this fashion one day, he spoke of his own shooting in Kashmir; real shooting.
“Shooting at what?”
“Men, of course, Sahib.”
I looked at him astonished. “But you only seem about seventeen”
“Yes, Sahib.”
“But you can’t have been fighting the Indians when thirteen?”
“Yes, Sahib” – and enquiry left no doubt that he had, and thought it not at all remarkable. He gave details of where he had gone and they made geographical sense. He had been bombed and rocketed by Indian planes, machine-gunned by Indian infantry. He had been half smothered by the blood and entrails of a mule, blown up a few yards away. He spoke of having spent a night on a snowy hillside – without socks or coat – to snipe Indian troops at dawn.

“Carrying a man’s rifle was rather tiring for me sometimes”, he grudgingly admitted. Remembrance of my facile thoughts on his stamina made me ashamed.

~ Ian Melville Stephens, ‘Horned moon: An account of a journey through Pakistan, Kashmir, and Afghanistan’ (1953). Back then, Ian Stephens, former editor of ‘The Statesman’, was one of the first person allowed to cross into India from Pakistan by walking across LOC. Back then, he was also one of the few person’s sympathetic to Pakistan (even quit his job possibly because he thought Pakistan was getting a raw deal), someone who believed that the country had a shot at been a progressive nation. Stephens would meet these simple natives, men capable of abominable deeds in bouts of mass madness, and yet he found them admirable as that is how things were region between Delhi and Karachi, a region he lovingly re-christened ‘Delkaria’.

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Flowers Throughout the Year

Photo: Brian Brake. 1957.
Flowers Throughout the Year
January 
(Sternbergia fischeriana)
When warming suns begin to melt the snow,
But yet the bitter winds if winter blow,
In sheltered nooks sternbergia’s golden blooms,
Bear witness to the throbbing life below.
February
(Anemone biflora)
As more and more we see of earths’s warm floor,
These small perennials eyes to beauty draw,
There whiteness of the snow is tinged with rose,
Or blue may be, from spring’s vast colour store.
March
(Hyacinthus orientalis)
Now Spring is here. The hyacinth’s perfume
Recalls the bear from its long winter tomb
And sends it forth to rein case in fat
A mighty carcase with an air of gloom
April
(Tulipa lanata)
[Gul-i-Lala, used to grow on roofs. One of the biggest of the specie]
It’s tulip time, and where lanatas glow,
Great scarlet giants, other tulips know
That they, dwarfed, must bloom and unseen fade,
Unless some gentle hand to them stoop low.
May
(Iris Kashmiriana)
[Latar]
From rhizomes planted in the autumn time,
This cream white flower adores the summer clime,
Bearded and fragrant, armfuls gaily go
To market, where they fetch perhaps a dime.
June 
(Trollius acaulis)
Golden blooms for the golden monthd
When the visitors are here,
To fill the coffers of many a man
In the vale of fair Kashmir.
July
(Lilium polyphyllum)
Of lilies among the rarest,
Its fragrant trumpets don’t sound,
But flare as they nod, 30 inches
Or more from the ground
August
(Morina Coulteriana)
Beware! For if these spikes of gold you choose
To bring into the house, they may refuse,
Their guardian prickles putting up a blitz
To draw your blood and make your tongue abuse.
September
(Aconilun violaceum)
In Autumn draws the mountain monk
His hood about his ears to warm ’em,
And this blue monkshood shows their hue
Should he allow the cold to storm ’em.
October
(Gentiana Moorcroftiana)
[named after explorer William Moorcroft who visited Kashmir around 1822]
As slender as the time that’s left
E’er snow is here again,
These sky blue flowers seem to say
“For winter sports remain.”
November
(Crocus Kashmiriana)
[Kongposh]
Not wild, but on so many acres grown,
This blossom violent-blue is widely known.
For from its roots commercial saffron comes
And o’er the hills its sweet perfume is blown.
December
(Viburnum Nervosum)
[Kulim]
With pink-white, clustering blooms it greets the morn,
Although of leaves by winter’s hand it’s shorn,
And when its scarlet berries purplish turn
Man eats them, saving thus his store of corn.
~ Verses by “Snilloc”, published in the Illustrated Weekly of India.
From the book ‘Kashmir, “the playground of Asia”: a handbook for visitors to the happy valley’ (1943) by Sachchidananda Sinha, who later in 1946 went on to be the first President of Constituent Assembly of India.

I have added some notes in []
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 Frontpiece of ‘Beautiful Valleys of Kashmir’ (1942), Samsar Chand Koul
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Previously:

Song of Trees

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The Sun Chasers in Kashmir, 1913-14-15-16

Photo: Jammu. 2012.
In August 1913 the strangest of pilgrim to Kashmir arrived in the valley. He was on a three month leave from work. But working, He found the valley to be a paradise, a place perfect for pushing the limits of his ideas. He returned in May 1914 with his wife for performing the perfect exercises recommended for men and women on new age.
“A doonga was hired, and all instruments and stores put aboard, and on May 11 we started on a prospecting tour up the River Jhelum as far as Islamabad, observing the sun from the river bank at various localities. A very convenient site for a temporary Observatory was found about 10 mile out from Srinagar near the village of Pampur. This was a small grass-covered hillock about 100 yards from the river bank, rising some 20 feet above the general level of the plain. On this, most conveniently arranged for our work, were some foundations of an abandoned building with stone walls about 3 feet high, and plenty of building material lying near. A very small amount of masonry work was needed to adapt these walls for mounting the polar heliostat, which had to be raised above the ground about 7 feet in order to reflect the sin downwards at the correct angle.[…]
On June 22, having obtained a satisfactory series of visual and photographic observations, both of the day and night definition, the Observatory camp was placed in charge of the official chowkidhar of the village of Tengan, and we started on a tour to various localities to test the influence of local conditions on the definition of sun. During this tour observations with the 3-inch portable telescope were made at a large number of stations in the valley and in the mountains, the route chosen being from Awantipur on the Jhelum river to Trall, and thence over the Bugmar pass to the Lidar valley, ascending this to an altitude of 11,000 feet at Zojpal. Returning from the high elevations, the Jhelum river was reached again at Bijbihara and the journey continued by river to near Awantipur and thence by two marches across the valley to the foothills of the Pir Panjal range near Romu. These last marches gave us an opportunity to test the definition in th midst of vast streches of wet rice cultivation, and also in low hills of about 200 feet elevation above the general level of the valley. From Romu the plain was re-crossed diagonally back to Pampur, the observing camp being reached on July 8. After a few further observations wight he 4 1/2-inch telescope the whole equipment was pack and transferred to the doonga, and the expedition reached Srinagar on July 13.”
The pilgrims were spectroscopist-astronomer, John Evershed (1864 – 1956) and his wife astronomer Mary Ackworth Orr Evershed (1867 Hoe, Devon – 1949). John was known to have designed his own spectroscophic instruments and Mary was adept at taking readings. Together the two went on to photograph things like solar spots and the tail of Halley’s comet. John Evershed was the first to observe the radial motions in sunspots, a phenomenon now known as the Evershed effect. Something we are taught as kids in Science class even in Kashmir. What is not usually taught is that Kashmir and Evershed played a little part in proving Albert Einstein’s general theory of relativity of 1916. Around 1911, when man was still a couple of decades away from making his own ‘miniature suns’ – the ‘Hydrogen Bombs’, Einstein’s theory of relativity was still fiercely debated and contested by scientific community,in such an atmosphere, Einstein started proposing another theory extending his theory of relativity to include theory of gravitation. Based on the new theory one of the claims he made was that the wavelength of light emitted by a massive body should be increased by an amount proportional to the intensity of the local gravitational field. This came to be known as ‘gravitational redshift’ or ‘Einstein shift’. If the effect could be observed in case of Sun, Einstein’s theories could be ‘prooved’ in real world. It was one of three basic tests of Einstein’s theories that could be proved by observing the solar bodies. Astronomers around the world tried to find the proof by chasing the sun. 
One of the first proof of this particular effect was provided by Evershed by observing the sun in Kashmir in 1915. He was running the famous hill top observatory in South India, Kodaikanal of Tamil Nadu. He was known to make his own spectroscopic instruments while his wife helped him take the readings. He was part of the revolution in which ‘observation’ of solar phenomena were ahead of theories about sun. Around 1913, he was also looking for a better place to see the sun and other other stars. He found environmental conditions in Kashmir valley, particularly Srinagar, the city of the Sun, to be better than those in Kodaikanal even though he couldn’t find a single local person who could be employed to help him photograph the sun. In a report titled ‘Report on the Conditions for Astronomical Work in Kashmir’ (1914), excerpts of which were previously quoted, he wrote:
“These islands were visited on June 13, and from the Sona Lankh in the Bod Dal the seeing was estimated as from 4 1/2 to 5 continuously between 11 A.M. and 3 P.M. From this island the water surface is practically continuous for about 3 1/2 miles to the south or south-east, and there are many water channels and marshes to the south-west. No doubt this fact contributed to the good seeing, because of the absence of disturbances in the lower strata of the air by contact with the sun-heated soil or rock surfaces.
It was found that no particular advantage was gained by ascending the low flat-topped hills called karewahs that stretched out into the plain from either side of the valley. The definition here seemed slightly less good than on the level plain among the rice fields.”
Out of these observations came the the theory that one of the best spots to observe the sun would be not the high mountains but islands surrounded by water bodies.  
It is interesting that Karl Alexander A. Hügel, the Austrian visitor to Kashmir in around 1835 should have noted, “We followed the course of the Jelam for two hours through an uncultivated district, ending in a marsh, and finally entered the Wallar Lake, into which the Jelam flows in two places. Not far from the shore is a little island called Lankh, a name which might lead us to imagine that the Kashmirians once had an observatory on it, where all their astronomical calculations were made.”
It is interesting to note here that now most of the water bodies in Srinagar and around it would be considered unsuitable for such scientific activities as the water canals and the bodies have drastically shrunk under the pressure of human habitational activities. Island on Wular can be reached by foot, and no one in the valley cares that the two islands on the Dal Lake could easily have been developed as small space observatories. 
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In 1916, a rather strange phenomena was observed across Britain. The population of wasps had drastically shrunk. While the previous year there had been many, in 1916 English people noticed that usual stingy visitors were missing. The same phenomena was reported from Kashmir by John Evershed. In a letter to ‘Nature’ magazine in September 1917, he wrote about ‘Scarcity of Wasps in Kashmir’:
“The abnormally dry season in Kashmir beginning’ in May, 1915, may have been specially favourable for the development of these wasps, but if so it is not easy to account for their subsequent scarcity. As in England, the year 1916 was remarkable for the rareness of wasps. The winter was mild and dry, and the shortage of rain persisted through the spring. Scarcely a single wasp of the smaller species was seen during the summer and autumn following. The only nests of the larger kind I saw were two very small ones suspended from the woodwork of the spectroheliograph, where I could daily watch the process of construction. This, however, was a most tedious operation, for after several months the nests were no larger than 1 in, or 2 in. in diameter — that is, about a quarter the size attained in 1915 — and instead’ of swarms of active workers, only one or two rather sluggish insects were seen on the nests. The apparent despondency of the wasps in 1916 was in strong contrast with their energy during the previous season. Yet, so far as human beings could judge, the two seasons were equally inspiring as regards clear blue skies and brilliant sun.”
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Did more Sun Chasers follow Evershed’s path and reach Kashmir?
In the travel guide book, ‘Beautiful Valleys of Kashmir’ (1942), Samsar Chand Koul, gives the following interesting casual anecdote from his 1937 visit to Kausar Nag Lake:
“A certain American professor once came here to ascertain the depth to which ultra-violet rays can penetrate, 10,000 ft. above sea level. He adjusted his machine with proper screws and places it in the centre of the lake. The screws and somehow became loose and part of the machine sank, so the experiment was not successful.”
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First Cricket Match in Kashmir, 1851

“On one glorious afternoon (15th June, 1851) I see we played on the plain of the Eedgarh [Idgah ]the first game of cricket – a single wicket match – ever seen in the vale of Cashmere: we had brought up with us gear for the express purpose. After this exercise we went, later in the day, through the tender mercies of the “hummaum” or steam bath, which oriental instituiton is not, as far as I know, except at Peshawar and perhaps Delhi, found in any other Indian city. It is a strictly Mahomedan institution, and was probably introduced into Cashmere from Persia.  “
~ The Highlands of India’ (1882) by David J. F. Newall.
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 2011
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So, it is official, Cricket reached Kashmir before Football.
See previously:
First Football Game in Kashmir, 1891
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Idgah remained a favorite spot for playing cricket. And yes, I have had a bath in Kashmiri Hamaam (Barbers shop basically often came with bathing facilities in Srinagar. Don’t know the status now).
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Last days of Silk Route, 1939

The impact that World War 2 had on the Silk Route traders who used to visit Kashmir. An extract from ‘The Kashmir Residency: Memories of 1939 and 1940’ by Evelyn Desiree Battye, who served as Personal Assistant to the Resident of Kashmir during those years. 

Invariably there was something of interest going on in the deep back verandah or in the square entrance hall where farash footmen hung about with the colorful chaprassis waiting for the next message to be taken or received, bot most interesting of all to me were the bagmen, as the itinerant merchants were called. Most visited regularly once or twice a year and were welcomed as old friends. They came great distances on foot in yak and mule caravans carrying their goods. They were ffed and put up in the servants quarters.
‘China-man agaya, Memsahib,’ de Mello would announce with beaming face. Once it was during a dinner party.
‘Oh, do let’s see what he brings!’ ladies exclaimed; and after the mea; the hall floor would be littered with his goods to examine and admire.
The Chinaman brought underwear for us, and for the men silk pyjamas with dragons embroidered on the pockets. There were fine cross-stitched tray and tea cloths with small napkins to match, lacquer tea sets with red and gold painting on the insides, and little cups and saucers with matching spoons just the right size for after-dinner coffee. With these went black lacquer trays, fruit plates and finger bowls. There were prettily painted china soup bowls with their matching lids, saucers, and serving spoons from which to choose a set of eight. Also displayed were exquisite ornaments both in white and green jade which Ronnie and I held admiringly but could never afford even though they were at bargain prices. The Chinaman encouraged us to finger his goods as much as we liked and to drape his satins and gossamer materials over chairs and balustrades to see the effect. Once we had made our purchases he had everything neatly folded and packed up into his bags in a jiffy.
These roving Chinamen would stay in India a year, sometimes two, while travelling round a favorite beat of ‘regulars’ with the chittis of recommendation we always gave him, until he had sold all his wares. Then he would travel back the long way ‘over the top of the world’ following the silk route to China to replenish his stocks for the next trip. It was quite a thing to welcome back a familiar Chinaman after his long absences. But would there be a next time?

‘What happen to poor China-man now, Master, Missee?’ I remember our favorite bagman expressing, his wrinkled face a study of woe. ‘Big war stop China-man to come back. Fan Lo face ruin!’

‘You must come back, Fan Lo; what would we do for presents without you? Take this chitti and go to Hong Kong, that’s british, and then you can return.’

He got to Hong Kong (so the servants informed ) and was allowed into the Colony with all his recommendations from the Memsahibs of India, and there he was caught by the war. he never came back.

Always of great interest to the men particularly was the carpet man who came to display his shimmering rugs and camel-bags which he spread out in the hall. He too carried his heavy loads by mule-pack and yak over the mountain passes and through the dusty deserts, though in a more westerly direction than the Chinaman’s route. He brought intricately pattered brightly colored saddlebags with their long tasselled fringes from Shiraz in Southern Persia, and superbly ornate silk prayer-mats from Kashan in Iran; the loosely knitted fringed rugs from Kazakh of longer pile; rugs from the Caucasus; Bokhara carpets of magenta or puce, and the many less expensive and coarser woven ones of blues, green and browns from Kula, Afghanistan and Baluchistan. These carpets once again reflected the Persian love of flowers, of massed roses and carnations, of hunting scenes and exotic lotuses which showed the Chinese influence.

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