Suddenly, out of nowhere, a huge beast (of prey) appeared very close to us, on the slope towards the Maharaja's palace, whose boundary is marked by a tall fence. 'Look, there is a big cat', shouted Brij Nath, in his innocence because he was seeing a leopard for the first time. I knew better. Literally, in a panic, I hustled him, 'It's a leopard, you ignorant fool! It can kill us. Let us run for safety'. And, we ran, literally; in a few minutes, we were right inside the temple itself. I told the Pujari, a Swamiji, about the leopard. But he was absolutely non-challant! He said, 'Acha, bayta, koi fikir nahin, men us ko khavonga', (Not to worry, my boys, I'll eat up the animal). It hardly made any sense but gave us a little hope of survival. But we wouldn't stir out of the safety of the temple. We waited for a whole hour until it was time for him to walk down to Durganag temple, where he resided, and provide an escort to us. It was only later on that we released that the poor leopard didn't have us in his beastly mind. It was greedily gazing at a dog that accompanied an Englishwoman and was running down the ravine. Those days many Englishmen and their wives would stay on in the Valley even in winter, to have a feel of a cold British winter with a white Christma et al! 

CYCLING ON ICE 
A few winters later on, we had severe cold after the snowfalls. It was so severe that the Dal Lake froze solid. In the afternoons--the schools and colleges were closed during winter vacations--we would cycle to the Dal Lake. And, believe it or not, we would cycle on the frozen waters of the lake. It was a very exhilarating experience and provided the 'thrill of the chase' like a hunter gets when risking his own life while stalking a dangerous animal. One did not have to use one's legs as we do when cycling the normal way. Just a push and the bike would move, gliding smoothly as if by magic. Each afternoon, for several days, we had this rollicking fun over the lake, because the severe cold persisted. The surface solidified even more. A daredevil went beyond the bike level and drove his jeep over the lake! There was no TV then but Radio Kashmir (as well as All India) Radio went to town with the amazing story, several days. The fun went on until a tragedy took place. 

And then it happened. The tragedy which all apprehended was bound to follow the fun struck when a boy failed to notice a crack on the surface of the lake. In a flash, he and his bicycle went down, leaving no trace. He was taken out soon enough but to one could revive him. In today's environment, he would be revived but those days, nobody knew how to do it! With that the fun over the lake stopped for ever. The lake never froze like that again, possibly the water is so badly polluted and now carries a great deal of lake weeds. 

A NARROW ESCAPE 
In winter, there used to be many  fires in Srinagar and other towns of Kashmir, thanks to the ubiquitious Kangri the firepot used by every adult Kashmiri below the Pheran to protect himself/herself from the freezing cold. There were few room-heaters in those days--these were almost unheard of, even among the affluent. 

My grandmother, Vishimal, would look out for me as soon as she heard of a fire in the neighbourhood. Because I was the intrepid fire-fighter, a Scout, born to the trade, as it were. I would be among the first fire-fighters, passing on buckets of water, etc., to quell the fire. 

One evening, I reached the top of a house which was engulfed in flames. The fire was spreading, despite our efforts to control it. No fire tender had reached the place. Even if one would reach at all, it would be after the damage, irretrievable, had been done. Passing on the buckets of water, I found myself on the edge of the roof of the building. 

I could not retrace my steps. The only way out for me was to jump across the lane to the neighbouring building in front. I don't remember how I pulled it off. I jumped across the lane to the roof of the three-storey building. The roofs those days used to have vegetation-sometimes, flowers, etc.--as these were covered with clay. I held on to the sturdy plants for dear life, even as the spectators down below shouted with joy. 

SAVING A LIFE 
In Srinagar, whenever a bridge would be under repairs, and therefore closed to traffic, the municipal authorities would engage a big barge (Kar-nav, in Kashmir)  to ferry people from one bank to the other. A 20 or so feet-long plank would be used as a ramp to lead it from the ghat. It was at this ghat that we used to take our bath in the mornings. One morning, as the barge left and the plank was pulled in by the hind boatman, a boy accidentally fell into the water. I spotted the struggling lad just in time. I ran back a few steps to gather momentum and then hopped into the water. I landed at the exact spot where the boy had fallen, clutched him fast and pulled him back to the safety of the bank. He was still holding on to his satchel of school books' He had not taken in much water and needed a little first aid. A small news item appeared in the local Urdu paper of those days (the Martand) about my feat. Today, such a story of exemplary bravery would have me all over the place, with TV, Radio and press publicity.
 

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