Managing Medical Matters

Living in Kashmir 1979-80: A Year of People, Places and Memories

Before our departure for the sub-continent, we were both subjected to a range of injections and a general medical examination. It would not do to send those who were not in hale and hearty condition into the field.

Medical Kits

Many years later one of our two medical kits issued before departure, survives still as a sturdy storage box, a quiet relic of those distant days. One kit was for the observer to carry to field stations; the other for the accompanying spouse or family.

The surviving box - end view

The surviving box -front view

Inside these olive-green boxes, packed with quiet efficiency by the Australian Army Medical Corps, there was every sort of bandage one might need. There were tubes of ointments, a wide variety of tablets designed to cope with common and not so common ailments and needs. Needles and syringes in sterile packaging were provided to be used in lieu of local resources should circumstances demand it.

A comprehensive list detailed every item by number, with recommended usage and dosage clearly noted.

Sand and Cement

The most called upon tablet was what we referred to as “sand and cement” otherwise known as Lomotil. Our tender stomachs took a while to grow accustomed to the varieties of food on offer, and even with the most careful precautions, frequent bouts of the dreaded 'Delhi belly' were an occupational hazard. In our own quarters we could at least govern the hygiene of food preparation, but the sub-continent had a way of humbling even the most vigilant.

An Injection Party

The kit also supplied gamma globulin to bolster our immune systems, and after six months in India, an injection party was duly convened. This was a rather cheerful name for what amounted to a necessary medical ritual. One of the Scandinavian wives, who happened to be a trained nurse, administered the shots with calm, practiced ease.

Over the years, the local soldiers had quietly acquainted themselves with the contents of these kits, and were not averse to requesting a remedy by its allocated number when the need arose. 

It was a small but satisfying thing, to be of practical use and we were grateful for the abundance of those plentiful medical supplies.

This post first appeared on earlieryears.blogspot.com by CRGalvin

Lakes and Lambrettas

Living in Kashmir 1979-80: A Year of People, Places and Memories

Life on the Lakes

The tourist in us, enjoyed the tranquility offered by richly adorned houseboats rocking gently on waters.

For the local trader the lake was a source of income as he plied his trade amongst the houseboats. Others passed by on their own errands, each vessel carving a brief ripple before the surface smoothed again. Above, the sunshine fell; below, its shadows shimmered in the water, and the whole scene took on a sense of timeless charm that no photograph quite captures. This blurry photo hardly does justice to one of the many scenes we observed.

Shikaras - a play of light and shadow on the lake

Looking out across the lake to houseboats framed by the mountains

Reed gatherers with view across the lake to the palace high on the hill

Those who tended the floating and lakeside gardens were well aware of their immense value to the local economy. It was a pleasure to watch them at work, carefully tending a remarkable variety of plants in those tranquil surroundings, a way of life as old as the lake itself.

1979 - Vegetable gardens at the edge of the lake

Lots of Lambrettas

Scooters weaved in and out of the traffic. For many households, a scooter was not just a vehicle but part of everyday family life. They were used for commuting, carrying shopping and visiting relatives. It was a practical answer to crowded streets, modest incomes, and the need for reliable family transport.

Among the most familiar names was Lambretta, the Italian brand that found a long life in India through local manufacture and adaptation. 

In 1972, the Indian government bought the machinery of the Milanese factory, creating Scooters India Limited (SIL) in order to produce Lambretta scooters and also Lambro three-wheelers.(1)  

The three-wheeler

These were given a variety of names across the years as models changed and developed. 

We would often see a whole family aboard a scooter, two or three crowded on the seat and one or two children standing either side of the driver. 

1. Lambretta https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lambretta 

This post first appeared on earlieryears.blogspot.com by CRGalvin

A Kitchen and the Khyber Pass

Living in Kashmir 1979-80: A Year of People, Places and Memories

A Kitchen

The central role that kitchens play in one’s life has me looking back with quiet amusement. This particular kitchen is as much a story of what was absent as what was present.

There was a tap, and a bench. Atop the bench sat a two-ring gas burner, fed by a large bottle stored directly beneath in the open cavity below. We had brought our electric frypan from Australia, and it earned its passage. The water cooler and steel thermos were ours too, practical companions in a setting where nothing could be taken for granted. Tucked between these familiar comforts sat a tin-box oven, modest enough to perch on one of the gas burners should the need arise.

The large kettle occupied the burner as a matter of permanence, always in some stage of being filled, brought to the boil, and set aside to cool. We then stored the water covered, until it cooled and was transferred to the water cooler to provide safe drinking water.

1979 Kitchen in Srinagar - restored from water damaged photo

The broken ceramic tiles that decorated the bench and the kitchen floor were the very same that had cascaded from the bedroom ceiling. They were a feature throughout the apartment.

Rounding the corner, one came to the open shelves and the small, lockable cupboard where dry goods were stored with careful intent. A power transformer sat on the shelf to my left; behind me, another import from home, our small toaster oven, familiar and slightly incongruous in its surroundings. We could use the electrical devices most of the time, but power supply was unreliable and could not always be guaranteed.

 Water damaged photo AI restored 2026

Acting on local advice we employed a houseboy who would help with a variety of tasks. He came recommended as a friend of a well-trained worker which gave us every confidence. What we did not realise was that this young fellow had no prior training. One day when I returned to the kitchen where he had been washing the floor, there he was wiping his wet feet on the curtains. 

He had little English and I only had a few basic local phrases. Yet we managed, through gestures and goodwill, and by the time the summer drew to a close and he left our employ, it seemed reasonable to hope he had gathered several skills that would serve him well.

1980 - Up the Khyber Pass

There is rock to the left, and rock to the right, and low lean thorn between,

And ye may hear a breech-bolt snick where never a man is seen 

Rudyard Kipling - The Ballad of the East and West, 1899

1980 - Khyber Pass road

One does not simply drive the Khyber Pass, one is absorbed by it. After a night in Peshawar, we set out for this long and winding road towards the Afghan border. The road climbs and coils through the Safed Koh range of the Hindu Kush, hemmed by walls of bare rock that shift in colour from pale ochre to deep rust. The Khyber Pass became part of Pakistan following the 1947 partition of India. The summit of the pass lies only 5 km within Pakistan.

The landscape is layered in history. Ancient stone forts rise from ridgelines and valley walls, built and rebuilt by tribes and traders across centuries of commerce, conflict and survival. These were not romantic ruins but scars of many bloody wars fought along this historic pass. We saw unit badges etched into rocks along the way.

The Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan at the end of 1979. The border crossing was closed. 

We saw refugees, barred from entering Pakistan, sitting forlornly on the far side of the crossing, still figures against a turbulent world. They waited with the particular patience of those who have no other choice. 

History in the making witnessed, our descent back to Peshawar left us thoughtful.

This post first appeared on earlieryears.blogspot.com by CRGalvin