Days after commissioning from the Indian Military Academy, Dehradun, I arrived in Srinagar on a cold December afternoon in 1957 enroute to my battalion 2/5 Gorkhas, deployed near Uri. Thus started my tryst with Kashmir.
It was blissfully quiet on ceasefire line – not even a shot fired in anger. The patchy roads would be lined with pink-cheeked and smiling kids, holding flowers and apples for soldiers who would reciprocate with toffees and sweets.
On weekends, one could go into town in Srinagar to exult in the raw majesty of Dal Lake, the famous Bund lining the Jehlum river and Nedou’s Hotel. Kashmiris would ask, with nothing else to say: ‘Sir, what is the time in India’. For them, across the Banihal was another country.
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