Love in the Valley

The Boulevards, bordering the world-famous Gagribal and Dal lakes of Kashmir, are a perpetual source of delight to the wondering Visitor, who stands amazed at the majestic sight of the lakes, reflecting in their calm waters the surrounding mountains and the willow trees, plentifully growing on the well-known 'Floating Lands'. The houseboats form the impressive background to this lovely scene. Almost every visitor to the Golden Valley hires a house-boat here. A trip to Kashmir is thought to be hollow if part of the holiday is not spent in a house-boat.

Sergeant Mackenzie, while talking about the beauty of the lake scenery with his wife, seated at his left in the taxi car, asked the driver to drive slowly on the Boulevard. He kept an observant eye on the house-boats, looking for the sign or placard ‘To Let' on any one of them. Seeing a fine looking house-boat, bearing the lovely name ‘Marmion,' he asked the driver to stop the car on one side of the Boulevard. He helped his wife out of the car. "What a lovely sight!" she exclaimed, "when one has to die, one should die here." The Sergeant asked her to put off pessimistic observations.

They hailed the owner of the house-boat, who turned out to be a Muslim lady. Getting in her Shikara, they went into her boat. The Sergeant found fault with the furniture and the bath arrangements. But his wife, Clara, decided that the boat would do. He gave in to her choice, because the doctor had directed him not to oppose her wishes, on account of the weakness of her heart which had reduced her to a state of invalidism.

The Sergeant's wife fell badly ill, only after a week's stay in the Marmion. Rahti, the proprietress of the Marmion, acted the nurse, and her daughter, Zooni, was the chief attendant. Clam Mackenzie liked Rahti very much. She taught her many more words of English than she knew already. Zooni, aged seventeen, was in the full bloom of her youth. She looked as fresh as any freshly-blown lotus of the Dal Lake. Her name, Zooni, meaning the moon in Kashmiri, became her so well. Clara admired her Jewish features. She would ask Rahti not to allow Zooni to sit in the sun too much, lest the sun should spoil her fair complexion.

Sergeant Mackenzie, one day, sitting by the bed of his wife-now pronounced by the Doctor as a serious case-said to her, just to divert her, "Do you still teach Rahti Basic English?"

"Oh yes, I do," was the hearty reply of the weak patient. Her face lighted up with a proud gleam in her blue eyes. "I make her remember the words and I punish her if-"

"Why should we not coach her only daughter, who attends upon you so devotedly?" was the husband's suggestion.

"What an idea! That is splendid, indeed," she said feebly. "But who would coach her? In my present state of health, I can hardly coach her mother. Besides Zooni has little backing in English. Would you?"

"Oh no, not I, for all the world. I think I would engage our steward's elder brother, who is an experienced teacher in a local school - one of the Church Mission schools that we visited last month."

Three months passed. Lovely Kashmir summer was succeeded by autumn. The leaves of the Chinar trees started changing colour. Clara lingered towards her death. The Sergeant lavished all the money he could to effect her restoration. But soon, too soon, the cruel hand of death stole his only companion from the world.

The Sergeant was too downcast to attend duty at the expiry of his leave. Not knowing what to do, he whiled away his time, fishing in the Dal lake, or taking long walks by himself on the Boulevards and 'tap -listening' to the radio in the evenings, or he would ask Rahti and Zooni to sing folk-songs of Kashmir in chorus.

Having extended his leave, he hired the Marmion for a further period of four months, but only after a fortnight he changed his mind. He decided to spend a month at Sonamarg - then newly popularised hill-station of Kashmir. There, surrounded by snow-capped mountains, sloping back from the green meadows, resplendent with wild flowers, he felt better in spirits, and was so much elated as to reply a letter of Mahmood, who had informed him about the progress of Zooni in her study of Basic English. Rahti sent her salaams to him.

Indeed, he thought, this pair-Zoom and Rahti-was unusual. They were not at all low, mean and grabbing like the many boatmen he had met before, on his former trips to the Valley, they had upset his wife on many occasions. Thank God, before her death, she contacted this pair.

The Sergeant came down to Srinagar to his boat. His arrival was a happy surprise to Rahti, her daughter and the servants. Zooni actually came out running, saying, "Good afternoon, Sergeant," in English. The Sergeant returned her greetings, pleased with her accent. "How are you going on in English?" he asked her.

"I had finished the Basic course when I wrote to you, sir. I now study Standard English and read books of many English writers." "Isn't that fine, sir?" she continued, showing him some of her books.

"I wish your kind wife had lived now. How happy she would have been, sir!"

The freedom of her speech delighted the Sergeant and he amply rewarded her tutor the following day for his teaching success. At the same time, Zooni's intelligence and precociousness amazed him. Her education had brought a pleasing change in her. She wore the Punjabi salwar now: the new dress became her charmingly pretty.

She accompanied the Sergeant on a hike to a nearby village up on the mountain. The Shikari and the attendants, who went along, were surprised at her familiarity with the Sergeant. There, sitting in a forest nook with him, she wept bitterly at his mention of his deceased wife. The Sergeant, himself disconsolate to madness, was deeply touched by her sincere sorrow for the loss of his loved wife.

The Sergeant came closer and closer-unconsciously for the most part-towards Zooni. As his stipulated period of stay in the Marmion was approaching the end, he ruminated more about her-her conversational charm, her sparkling intelligence, her beauty, and her regard for him and his late wife. She … would he marry her? That was the question. Colour bar? Oh! damn that idle notion. She was fair, very. She was-he had to admit to himself-dear to him, much more so than any of the English and other women he met at the Club and elsewhere.

His proposal of marriage did not come as a surprise to Zooni. She, the bashful Orient, took it as a natural course. Rahti also agreed, much against the wishes of her relatives who said to her that this sort of union was unprecedented.

The Christmas Day found the Marmion afloat, beside the Boulevard, with the Sergeant lunching with Mrs. Zooni Mackenzie, discussing the details of their journey to his HQ.