Save Dal

There are a lot of "save Dal" signs around the lake.
This is one of the most conviction stirring I've seen.
Kashmir's nickname is "paradise on earth"--or translated here as "heaven".
Hell would be a place of pollution. I guess.

There are conservation efforts happening around the lake; it's just hard to see any result.

I suppose, if there is a lot of signage, it's only because there is a lot to be saved.

Hari Parbat

A clear sky will show Hari Parbat in the background of Dal Lake.

The current fort is only about two hundred years old, but the hill has long been thought by Kashmiris to be both sacred and strategic.

The legend goes that the hill was once a lake where a huge demon lived. The goddess Parvati became a bird and dropped a pebble its head, which grew until it crushed the demon. And so it became the hill it is today.

A hill full of all kinds of religious and military structures: gurudwaras, temples and mosques. The fort until very recently has been occupied by military and closed to the public.
Maybe now I can someday see what kind of view there is from up there...

Dress up

It doesn't matter how many times I see this, I always find it amusing.
Indian tourists come to Kashmir and dress up in "traditional Kashmiri clothing" to have their pictures taken. Photographers on shikaras or at one of the gardens give them scarves to put on their heads, plastic flowers and clay pots to hold, and then they take pictures like this.
Or like this one taken by Tim Fitzsimons.
The real tradition, I think, is the one of Indian tourists wanting this to be something they do during their trip to Kashmir, and a picture to take home to show the relatives.

Fast food

This is a fairly new addition to the boats of Dal Lake: the fast food pontoon.
I thought it would be cool if it were mobile, kind of like an ice cream/snack truck might go around the neighborhood playing music. But no, it is more like a drive up. And it seems that plenty of shikaras are "driving up", 'cause it's a happenin' place.

My favorite on their menu? The magi pakora.
I believe that's supposed to be a reference to two different items: the pakora and maggi noodles (the ubiquitous ramen variety). If it were really a pakora eaten by priests, philosophers and sages, that would be something not to miss.

As it is, don't miss the fast food pontoon boat.

The shikara

Life on Dal Lake is one of my favorite things about Kashmir. It uniquely takes place all on water. Houses are on water, stores are on water. Mosques are on water. Gardens are on water. And all transportation is over water.
The shikara, then, is essential in every family. It's what gets you from place to place.
It gets you to the store.
It gets you to the neighbor's house.
It gets you to work.
It gets the tourists to your boat.
It gets you to the shore.

And it's a marvelously slow way to travel.

There's time for thinking when you're on a shikara. Time to look around you and pay attention to something other than yourself. Time to see the world you're passing by.
Time to breath--that's rare, and that's something to savor.

Dal Lake houseboats

When seen one right after the other, the difference between a Dal Lake houseboat and Kerala houseboat is striking.

One moves. One is permanently anchored to a man-made bit of land.
One is made with rice mats, replaced every year. One is serious woodwork and paint.
One cruises by palm trees and fishermen. One sits quietly nestled in a Himalayan valley.

I like good contrast.

Same same but different

The seaweed is still around.

Seaweed and other things about Kashmir are the same since the last time I was there.
The houseboats are all there, too.
And the shops selling funny, furry things to Indian tourists who are cold.

But there are a few differences.

The anti-India sentiment, for one, is prevalent.
Spray painted words like these are everywhere.
"Go back India" is written on the roads.

There is less friendliness in the air.
I felt like smiling at everyone because I was back to visit--but my smile was rarely returned.

Kashmir can make itself so disagreeable and hard to love. What a shame.

Shikara ride

My favorite thing about Kashmir is the lake.
The people.
The quietness.
The slower pace.
The beauty and culture reflected in its environment.

On this cold November morning, my friend offered to paddle me around the "block" of her neighborhood.

You can find anything you're looking for right there on the lake: groceries, phone charge, plastic buckets, sweaters, potato chips, pharmacy, carpets, shawls...
The shops were open, waiting for someone other than the locals to visit. The tourists have been missing for months.

The houseboats, too, are waiting for guests. Everything has been newly painted and repaired. There has been lots of time to fix those things you might otherwise never get around to.
All that's needed now is for someone to come back and enjoy all the fresh paint and improvements.

Juxtaposition

This is an interesting picture.
Ah juxtaposition.

Prostester upon protester, and a giant advertisement.

Hanes: Comfort you can feel. Royal Concept.

The words do not match.
What comfort? This is a picture from the center of Kashmir with the feel of dissatisfaction, not comfort.
Royal concept. Is that what freedom is?

There are a lot of images coming out of Kashmir these days. Some of them very disturbing. Others heart rending.

And there are some angry people there who might be confused about the object of their anger. The rocks being thrown come closer to home than I would wish.

A part of my heart will always belong to you, Kashmir, but can we please stay focused on what it is you really want?

Unrest

I have been considering the word "unrest".

It all started because I read this article about the government leaders in Delhi scheduled to meet regarding the situation in Kashmir. It mentions the "three-month-long unrest".

So, in contrast I took the word "rest" and equated it to "sleep"--because that's the kind of rest I like best--and then thought: Kashmir hasn't slept in three months.

What if I hadn't slept in three months?
I would be hurting.
I would be frustrated.
I would not be thinking clearly.
I would be angry.
I would be stretched far beyond my limits.

It was supposed to be a holiday this weekend. It's Eid. The end of Ramadan fasting. There should be lots of eating and celebrating and visiting friends and relatives.
Instead everything is shut down, and the protests continue.
And violence.
If you burn the electricity office--I think to myself--then you can't pay bills, etc., your power will be shut off, and then where will you be?
What kind of Eid celebration is that?

Listen up, World: Kashmir is begging you to pay attention.

Stone throwing

The protesting in Kashmir continues and the rest of the world hears very little about it. But for them, it is ALL there is to talk about.

The article this picture comes from says that women have come out to join the protesting and that their sentiments are: why shouldn't I throw stones?
Why?
Because those rocks come from the walls that built your city? Literally and figuratively.

But I understand that an unheard voice needs to find a way to be heard. And Kashmir has been unheard for years.
That makes people angry. That makes people yell and throw stones.
I watch video like that below, with footage put to the song Stones in My Hand, and I do not know what the answer is.

Summer disease

The political unrest in Kashmir is like an infectious disease that flares up every summer.
I read this article in the Times of India and I thought about how it seems better for winter and cold weather to remain in Kashmir, for as soon as warmer weather comes, so does the protesting.
2008 was a bad summer. June and August, especially, were full of unrest. Curfews and strikes and angry people with rocks in their hands wherever you went. But when I watch this video, it seems to me that the young men with rocks are bolder than they used to be.
When violence escalates the way it has, there is rarely a right or wrong side anymore.
These are not "innocent" youths pictured here.
I think it must be a lonely job to work for the CRPF.
I think it must be awful to have lost a son to a bullet fired into a protesting crowd.
Living in Delhi means I have to go looking for news about what happens in Kashmir. People here go on as if nothing is happening. I do the same.
But I do remember the enforced stay-at-home days, the tires burning in the roads, the school boys who attack cars.
I may not live there anymore, but peace in the Valley of Kashmir is still something I long to see.

Shopping sights

I went out shopping and I saw a whole range of interesting sights.


A typical view of the houseboats.

Where I bought my vegetables.


Cloth for a new suit.

What is the fake horse doing in the mall?

Is it the real Pizza Hut?


And, yes, shepherdesses with their sheep.