(Some names have been changed).
Through the trundle of my thoughts which were as bumpy and disconcerting as the road which brought me away from what was supposed to be my final destination in India, I suddenly decided I had been a moorkh for wanting to stay in Delhi. A huge moorkh. Staying at Malik’s family’s guesthouse in Kashimir for 1000 rupies a night with both breakfast and supper included… why… I’d end up paying more than that in Delhi for my accommodation alone. And while I would probably end up spending more in Kashmir overall, it would be worth it, because I would be exploring Kashmir – the place they call heaven on Earth – with Malik.
We stopped at one of those classic service stations and Amer and I shared some Dal with butter naan. And shit, this nann was good: hot and soft and fresh. All the things you can wish for in bread, making it utterly mouth-watering when dipped in delicious dal.
But Christ, the rest of my journey was uncomfortable as hell. This was supposed to be a top notch sleeper bus. Far from it. With no AC in the individual cabins, even before the sun fully rose I began to bake. Sweat seeping into my shorts and t-shirt. But the worst was to come. After a wearying journey through scorching and rather characterless Jammu, I was crammed into a jeep with Amer and we had a plus 6 hour drive to “heaven on Earth”’.
There was a deadly amount of traffic around the mountain ranges. Dust blew through into the car, the air was arid, my mouth was dryer than charcoal. My ass ached in a way it just shouldn’t because of how I was sitting with luggage piled around me. I couldn’t wait for the journey to be over. I also wondered whether Malik had left Delhi yet.
Things got a bit better once we started driving through Kashmir. The dust abated, the air became cooler and our surroundings greener. Amer began getting excited now that we were in his “country”. He would point out the window and talk excitedly about his homeland. The majestic mountain ranges and the fields of saffron. Kashmiri saffron is the best saffron in all the world Amer told me. And Kashmiri saffron is indeed considered the best in the world due to its aroma and its powerful medicinal properties. Amer was not only excited for me to see his country, but he was also excited to see his children who he hadn’t been with in months. He even video called them while we were in the jeep and had me to speak to them.
We also stopped at a few random shops and I tried some Pink Kashmiri tea with some Kashmiri egg parantha. The egg parantha was far different to the egg paranthas I’ve had in Rishikesh. This parantha was in fact radically different from the other paranthas I’ve had in India. Definitely not better… but different. Amer told me that all the food in Kashmir would be different from the rest of India. They have their own cuisine here.
The Kashmiri tea was a much more interesting experience. I had no interest in trying it at first, but the people around me encouraged me to drink in such a polite and friendly way, exhibiting great pride in the drink from their land that I decided I would take some. A milky pink colour, it tasted like it had been made with seawater. In Kashmir they use salt in their tea, and just like the rest of India is with sugar, they use no small amount of it. Surly a tea made with salt instead of sugar must taste rancid? No. Strangely enough… despite the fact that my mouth’s interior must have been wrinkled and disheveled from the aridity of the air, to drink such a salty drink was surprisingly refreshing. Of course, it helped that I had a massive bottle of ice-cold water with it. Without such backup the tea may not have been so palatable.
Before sitting down to this sumptuous snack of egg parantha and Kashmiri tea, I took the time to wash the grime and dust from my face, hair and arms. And I felt much better getting back into the jeep. This did not last long however, and soon I was just as uncomfortable as before, wishing I was back in Delhi.
When we finally disembarked from the jeep in the city of Srinagar – the capital of Kashmir – Malik’s brother Ahmad was waiting for me, and within seconds an argument had broken out between him and Amer. ‘This guy is weird bro!’ Ahmad cried to me. Well, what the hell am I supposed to know? I couldn’t understand what the hell they were saying. Now Amer seemed pissed off with me for no reason. I thanked him for all his help as he stormed off, and then followed Ahmad to a nearby auto-rickshaw. I’d been quite apprehensive about meeting Malik’s brother, but apart from his strange confrontation with Amer, Ahmad seemed like a very friendly guy. The auto-rickshaw drove us through the city of Srinagar until we arrived on the bank of Dal Lake, where I met Ahmad’s father, Jaarood.
Ahmad and I sat in the back of their luxurious Shikara, as Jaarood rowed us across the lake. Peace poured into me and I began to feel extremely glad that I so spontaneously threw myself into this horrendous journey like a madman.
Onboard the boathouse I met Ahmad’s two sisters who gave me some delicious saffron tea with Kashmiri sweets as I stretched out on their living room floor awaiting my supper. It had been an exhausting day and I felt like an old man. I never thought a cup of tea could bring you so much happiness.
But, there was one thing gnawing through the back of my mind like a rat. Malik was not responding to any of my messages. I was beginning to get the horrible feeling that he had abandoned me…
