Beauty, Paradise, Maple and Gun Power

You jump out of a shikara on the tiny jetty and stamp into the puddle

You look down and then slowly lift your face wrapped in that sorry look

And you see those eyes giggling at you

You can’t help but notice that freshness n innocence

Her face so undone and original

No touch of any makeup and mascara

Pretty face with that obvious scar on her forhead

Which she must have got when she was a child

You freeze to death while she enjoys the chilly wind on her face

You drag your wet feet while she passes by like a warm breeze in a late autumn of Kashmir.

Oh! Kashmir. It indeed is a paradise.

Emm, couldn’t help but think of Natasha then.

“I came down from Hyderabad yesterday. Today we drove down from Pune and then I hopped on to a bus then a rikshaw and here I’m. “ I continued “and I got to go home, write a couple of emails and me and my folks are off tomorrow morning 5.” I saw Natasha’s eyes looking at me with a pinch of surprise and an ounce of envy. She said, “Dude, go have fun. Good that we caught up today. Enjoy your holidays.”

Dad and mom slogged their...emm watever off, they took care of their social and official responsibilities and bro travelled from Ratnagiri to Karahad and then Pune and now we were almost set to leave for Srinagar on Monday.

Monday 5 a.m.

“Yeah, be there.” I hear dad on the phone, “No. wait at the Mahim Church, yeah… that big junction. We’ll come in a cab and then you follow us.”

As far as I remembered these were going to be our ‘Family Holidays.’ You know the kind of family thing to do. And this one was to be special because all four of us were to go travelling after four years. But, then I just heard, someone accompanying us to airport. Now, we are no rock-stars that some fool would get up that early to see us off at the airport. I couldn’t help but give that puzzled look to mom and she quickly answered, “One of your dad’s friends is coming with his wife. They haven’t travelled at all so far and they really want to. So, yeah …your dad said yes.”

I only prayed that Air India’s some special rules and regulations would help us get rid off this extra baggage. Later, dad tapped on my shoulder settling into seat next to me in the aircraft and said, “Son, we shouldn’t live for ourselves only. I know you are little annoyed but relax. It will be fun.”

I shook him off but deep down I felt, I was being way too selfish, maybe.

Monday 4 p.m.

It was chilly wind breezing by at 10 km/ hr and temperature of 13 degrees that waited impatiently to welcome us at Srinagar and yes two more fellas - Bablu and Noor Md our drivers. Who waited for three hours outside airport as our flight was delayed. After having to wait for so long they still welcome us with warmest smiles possible. They quickly picked up our bags and walked briskly towards the respective cars. We got in and our sumo rushed towards Dal Lake.

I could smell the freshness in the air. I couldn’t resist but take humongous deep breathes to enjoy the pure air and gulp the chill in the atmosphere.

We unloaded the bags and got into a shikara (small boat used to transport people and goods in lakes of Kashmir). We were to stay in a majestic house boat for a night before we moved to Pehelgaon and further north in J&K.

Houseboat indeed was majestic. Carved wooden ceiling and panels, wall to wall carpet, spacious hall, giant wooden dinning table, king size beds and tiny romantic veranda.

Cold was gripping us slowly but we hung around in the veranda for an hour or so and then went for a walk around the lake. We only lasted for a little over half an hour before we decided to hit back to our houseboat.

Mom curled up in a warm shawl while brother retired in a relax chair. Dad poured one large of scotch for him and well one for me to accompany we said, “Cheers.”

I gulp a sip down and smiled. All four of us felt comfortable. We didn’t speak much, rather shared a very comfortable silence. Mom couldn’t hide the surprise on her face for being in such a majestic place, satisfaction on dad’s face was evident, brother was little too tired to register much of a reaction and I was overwhelmed to be with all of them on the most happening holidays thrown by dad. More so, I felt we connected to each other and we were to have a great time ahead.

Tuesday –

Mumma bought a couple of grams of Saffron when we stopped at the so called best shop for saffron on our way to Pehelgaon. Considering Saffron cost 120 rupees for a gram, mom did quite some shopping.

Drive up to Pehelgaon was nice. Comfortable and swift, a lot of curves, beautiful valleys, occasional water falls and steady flowing river to accompany us and steadfast snow clad mountains overlooking us.

We reached by 3pm. We were very hungry and the buffet for the package travelers (that would be us in this case) was long over. I found dad speaking to this short man with unshaven beard and messed up hair and ‘I’ve served 100 people their lunch and now I’m tired’ look. His name was Malik, we learned later that he was more or less the one man army for the restaurant, fighting bravely with a small troop of a cook and one helper.

Initially Malik was unhappy serving us as we were late and we were little choosy but then I don’t it is something about dad that gets people on his side. I wasn’t surprised when Malik served us on the house desert and promised dad to serve a personalize dinner if we came at the right time in the evening. However, only for the records, we were only entitled for buffet.

In the evening we did very touristic things – walking around, some shopping, and general look around business. By the end of the day we were dead tired and hardhly anybody wanted to have dinner. So … nothing worth mentioning about dinner.

Aru Valley and missing brother -

On Wednesday, we pushed to Aru Valley. It is nothing but a small village little outside of Pehelgaon. It is very pretty and is famous for being the location of shooting for a lot of Bollywood movies before it was not a practice to shoot all songs in Switzerland or somewhere in Europe and Australia.

We got a chance to ride horses. It was lot of fun to ride a horse. However, moment I got off the saddle and took a few steps I sensed pain in the place you don’t want to feel any discomfort in. But what to do…had to cope with it.

On our way back home, we passed a field. Localities were playing cricket there. My bro, couldn’t resist the temptation to try his hands at it. Me and mom acted like grandparents and warned him, “It is damn cold here, if the leather ball woos by your arms you gonna feel the pain. Forget about it. Besides you don’t know any one ..bla bla bla.” On the other hand, dad supported him and encouraged him. Dad even took a position at long on to take a snap of his sweetheart having a go at a Kashmiri paceman.

Well, bro didn’t disappoint him. On three consecutive deliveries he had his wickets fallen all over ground. We couldn’t help but burst out laughing. You should have seen bro’s face. It shrunk so small and draped in embarrassment. He then convinced dad to let him play for some more time and dad agreed. So we pushed off and he stayed back.

We waited impatiently for him to return to hotel so we could have lunch, but he didn’t turn up. Ultimately, at 3pm we decided to order food and we were waiting in the restaurant. All of talking about him and worry and impatience was evident on all our faces. We kept staring through the window for him to appear. But he didn’t… for a long time.

Then we caught glimpses of him walking into the lobby. I was mad at him but was also happy that he finally turned up after four hours. I wanted to snap at him but then with borrowed nicety and sprinkled sarcasm I said, “Just inform the local police that we found who we were looking for and if you done with your day’s play then be kind enough to join us at the restaurant.”

Dad and mom’s firing followed this and then followed his story…

“I was just playing there. It is safe in here, you folks don’t have to worry about me. It was so much of fun. It turned out that those were the horse guys… Ghodewalle mummaa… and then we played so much that I was damn hungry and so were they. So then we went to have food. They took me to their house. We had some chicken and trust me it was delicious. Then you know what, they dropped me. Dad, I rode horse again. They dropped me here outside the compound and left. You should meet them.”

We all were still a bit furious at him but we couldn’t help but be happy for him, for the fact that he reached the locals, he had the local food and hung around with locals and that is the best way to travel and experience region you are in. Dad ruffled his hair and hugged him.

Before wrapping up the day, we did some more shopping, went out on longer walks, talked and laughed a lot and then had a delicious dinner.

Gulmarg :

It is yet another beautiful but expensive place in Kashmir. To me, it is a well set up tourist village. Where people must come, just blow of their money, walk along the golf course and snow clad peaks, perhaps ski in the winter and stay in star hotels and just relax.

Well, that is what we did, we just hung back and relaxed. Yeah, me and bro watched the India-Pak test.

All this while we were enjoying heavy breakfasts and heavier lunches and dinners. Not to mention once in a while a drink or two heat up. :-P

Friday – back to Srinagar…

Bablu and Noor Md came to pick us up from Gulmarg and then we headed straight to Srinagar. We passed Lal-Chawk, the most famous junction in Srinagar. On our way, Bablu was providing us with a lot of information. However, it wasn’t that pleasant to ears. He told us about the shoot-outs, militancy, police, CRPF, BSF and how badly they treat locals, clash between Pandits and Muslims, discrimination, arrogant attitude of soldiers and so on.

We then came to our hotel. We relaxed for a while and then left in the evening for a peaceful ride of Shikara . Dal lake looks pretty by the evening. We rode around, the water market, floating gardens, Jawahar park, house boats and so on. The photograph says better than I could ever… have a look.

Saturday didn’t turn out as expected. We heard, deputy prime minister was visiting Srinagar. I thought he might be busy attending meetings, addressing leaders, talking policies and manipulating something else…what do I know.

Well, what did I knew, the dude was here to chillax. We learned, he was staying at Centor hotels right by the Dal Lake, then he was to have Kava (kashmiri form of tea) at the Nishat Garden (supposed to be damn beautiful) and then perhaps go for a stroll at Shalimar Bag (another beautiful garden in Kashmir) and then visit Hajratbal (mosque). How interesting, have food, tea then enjoy yourself then have a walk to cool yourself and then perhaps offer prayers. Huhhh….

Well, thanks to him and the security majors, we found ourselves in traffic jams, road blocks and stuck in the car. We consider ourselves lucky that we at least got to visit Hajratbal and the temple of shankaracharya. Shnkaracharya is right on top. We just made it before sunset. I went into the temple and then to meditation cave. When I walked out and saw the sun going down, it felt peaceful. I felt much relaxed. Strain and stress seemed to have evaporated in a thin air.

We had travelled a bit and seen a lot, end was drawing close. However, the hightlight of the trip was yet to come.

Any trip in a land you haven’t been to is marked by the people you meet, interaction you’ve with them, taste of the local food and feel of the culture. And that is what exactly was waiting for us.

On our way back, bro wanted to eat some Kebabs and none but him amongst us eats meat. So, dad told Bablu to drop them at the hotel and then take bro out to eat. Me being the elder one, wasn’t really asked to overlook him but well, I thought would be a good idea to go along.

I wasn’t bored of my folks but sometimes you like to have a bit of your space after being with your parents flat out for a week. So we broke free for a while. On the way back, Bablu casually asked whether we would like to come to his house to spend a night.

We took him up on that and bang, “Dad, we have to catch a flight tomorrow and Bablu is coming to pick you up tomorrow. So, we just thought we would go to stay over at his place, get the feel how is it to … you now … and well, we’re seeing each other tomorrow. I’ll take care. Don’t worry.”

Better thing was, dad said, “Emm. Ok. Be safe and take care. Enjoy.”

Well, I trusted Bablu but then, there was a pinch of doubt in my mind. I don’t know why…

But all turned out well. We went to his house, 20kms out of Srinagar. There was no electricity and one could see the star flushed sky and it was beautiful. We walked into his house like strangers but we received a very warm welcome and hot Kava. His mom couldn’t speak Hindi but his father spoke with us. His younger sister looked at us in surprise, well not like we were animals from a zoo but somewhere close.

Bablu told us, we were the first non-Kashmiris to visit them. And then we being from Bombay invited whole new array of questions.

Have you seen film stars? Who is Bipasha currently going out with? Is it true that Shah Rukh Khan has two bunglow by the sea face….etc…. use

How much do you earn? How big is your house? Do people stay in families there? (Just to name a few)

Typical Kashmiri houses don’t have much of furniture. They normally have big rooms with wall to wall carpets. Furniture and bed minus rooms appear spacious. One always sits on the floor and along the wall.

We were literally pampered there. They fed us a lot. My brother enjoyed chicken. And then they made our bed for us. We received a lot of love and affection. Felt nice. That bondage and care, well, I can’t put it in words.

Was indeed a cultural exchange.

Next morning we passed the same maple trees, old dusty roads and same guards armed with automated weapons placed at each 20 meters. At the most they might have changed their shifts. There is sense of fear still in the air. When you see an armed man in a uniform at every corner, you wonder why is there? If there is peace then why is he there? I don’t call silence at the Gun point as peace. That isn’t the definition of peace.

There are still a lot of grudges between the locals and the CRPF men armed to protect them. At times locals report that military personnel bully them far more than militants. CRPF guys are armed to protect the residents but hardly do they trust them and respect them. There is still a lot of turbulence under the name of religion. It is evident. I interacted with soldiers, police officers and locals. There definitely is something wrong but I can’t put my finger on it.

There were moments when I didn’t feel like a free Indian walking around in a free piece of land that belongs to this country.

To say the least about the security, I’ve never had so many fellas grabbing my ass and chest and pockets before I walked through any doors.

Well, but all that ends well is well. This happy end came a little late as our flight got delayed by 4 hours at Srinagar airport and then 6 more hours at Delhi airport. I contemplated the idea to go out to meet someone but it couldn’t have worked out.

Me and bro, we walked around the Delhi airport. Then, we just halted opposite the security gates. Emm, sorry if I sound cheeky but one can hardly help when you see Kingfisher air-hostesses dressed in hot red, walking through those curtains. Only to find that one is prettier than the other. We paused for a while to admire the beauty and looked at our Indian Airlines boarding passes and wished they were Kingfisher.

Well, everything has a purpose, as we hung around there little longer we indeed couldn’t believe our selves. My aunt, mom’s sister walks through and we meet each other after one year. That too at Delhi airport. No calls no message we just bumped into each other. Then I took aunt to meet mom and look on her face was priceless.

World is small place, isn’t it (I would love to see this trait with some other people of my preference too…God are you listening?)

All thanx to dad we had a great time. Indeed I owe a big one to you dad, hope you enjoyed reading this one for the starters.

Love you.

Neo