Two Trips: Kanihoma and Dachigam

Often life's surprises come in small parcels-either small moments captured that illumine one's future in richness and color, or places passed through that distill the essence, and reveal a hidden spirit, or words encountered that change the course of a meandering life.

Visits to Kanihoma and Dachigam are parts of such surprising encounters in my life, parceled away to be later recalled in moments of leisure and self indulgence.

Dachigam is a wildlife sanctuary a mere 13km away from the heart of Srinagar-yet this world is far removed from the cultivated charms of the kashmiri capital, covering highlands of rarified stillness, green drenched pristine forests, bubbling streams, small rivers, created by the winter snow melts, that still provides drinking water source for the entire Srinagar. To add to this, Dachigam is one of the last reserves protecting a disappearing population of Hungals or the red deer - on the endangered list of world wildlife.

To have a fighting chance of seeing these shy animals, the kids and I left for Dachigam in the dark pre-dawn hours, arriving as the first visitors to the park. A walk with our guide in the hushed quietness of these early hours, looking for signs and presence of Hungals, was filled with suspense and bursting excitement. It took an hour or so of wandering before the guide spotted a herd of about six deer at a distance. What we saw were moving smudges against matching hills-moving higher and fast-apparently we had been spotted way before we saw the herd, and they were taking no chances with humans-smart choice!

I cannot say what it was about Dachigam that impressed me-seeing the deer, walking through the forests, or encountering spaces that seemed so unharmed by human presence. It seemed that whatever the practical merits, human life cannot but be enriched by close presence of wild and wilderness, in sensitivity its quietness instills within us and the lessons that it teaches for free.

Scenes from Dachigam

Kanihoma is a tiny village on the road from Srinagar to Gulmarg. Its name derives from 'kani' - the wooden bobbins used in weaving of traditional Kani shawls with their rich tapestry of colors and patterns drawn from the mughal era. These shawls became a rage in European courts and fashion world in 1800s till the British cloth mills started mass production of cheaper imitations usimg raw materials procured from India. Recent efforts to revive this rich and elaborate weaving tradition is meeting with some success, as I discovered on a visit to Kanihoma.

A small street along a creek, houses of exposed, unbaked bricks, thatch roof, small yards with hanging chillis, a patch of mustard, a few flowers, a couple of fruit trees-at this time in blossom.
Inside these small homes, hidden from prying eyes, masterpieces were being created-soft as clouds, in colors of brilliant rainbows, fabrics woven of finest pashmina and shatush, in intricately woven patterns of ivory, gold, crimson, jade, purple...with love and patience each thread was wrought, in and out, up and around, taking 18 long months of labor, to produce a small piece, a few feet wide and long, to wrap privileged shoulders in riches rare. Kani shawls come at a price tag upwards of Rs. 60,000 an extremely modest cost for an effort so long and hard, and craftsmanship so rare. However, takers for this rare crafts are few within India, and most of these shawls make it to appreciative markets abroad-mainly in the middle east. For this one is grateful-since it preserves and propogates a tradition, saving it from becoming a dying crafts form, to a living, evolving and thriving artistic expression.

Art and the artisans

A Week On Dal Lake:Srinagar

When the Maharaja of Kashmir had to host the british at his court, he decided to build up residences for them on Dal Lake- this was more than a hundred years ago-or such is the folklore around the origin of houseboats on Dal Lake. Now the presence of houseboats, and the lifestyles set up around them are a major tourist draw to the romance and attraction of Srinagar- a not-to-be-missed experience on most tourist's agenda in Kashmir. The tourist houseboats range from the basic, budget options where a few hundred rupees allows you to squeeze into tiny a congested room, and still be rocked gently to sleep with the lulling movement of the parked houseboat. At the other extreme are the opulent, spacious, chandelier-ed and silk carpeted residences fit for the Maharajas of today.

Completely different from a system meant to draw tourist attention are the houseboat residences of kashmiris themselves. We were lucky to find one such "home" that we shared with our kashmiri hosts- Javed and his family. Unlike the tourist quarters, this was not crowded with western style furniture, or television. We were given a large spacious room with two double beds, while the family occupied the rest of this houseboat, and another adjacent houseboat. The boat had a large deck where my kids, Aman and Avani, hung around with the host family members, and had enough companions for play and fun. The kids also got very comfortable moving around Dal Lake using one of the three family kishtis . Our day began with an early morning ride across the canal to the Kashmiri bakery for fresh delicious hot breads that we brought back-breakfast everyday was these naans with a thick layer of butter and jam and a usual cup of black tea for me and chocolate milk for the kids. Day progressed with holiday homework that the children worked on, rides on Dal Lake for boating practice, lunch and dinner outside along the boulevard at our favorite Vaishno Dhaba-delicious rajma, rice, roti, salad, lassi.
Post lunches for me meant long siestas gazing at the distant hills, ducks squawking and hens clucking trying to escape the 4x4 feet floating platform to which they were confined. Javed's dad sat with a hookah,the women cooked and made endless cups of chai, salted pink concoction for the morning and the regular milk and sugared version for the rest of the day. Relatives visited, friends dropped by, vendors stopped hoping to sell merchandise to the family and also us. We quickly became at ease with our new family-the youngest child, a five year old, invariable came to wake me with an energetic "Utho,Utho (up, up..)" tugging away my blankets-I started waiting for this wake up call-while his mother would invariably tuck hot water bottles in our beds, to have them cosy warm at night. We ate a special vegetarian dinner cooked for us by the host family- delicious and different.

Aman worked on making a small model boat with wood donated by the family; Avani practised her Urdu skills and picked up basic alphabets and writing small words...such beautiful calligraphy, what beautiful language. What surprised me was there were no fat people here-everyone walked, rowed, worked. While we still went around in jackets, the weather was sufficiently warm for children here to be jumping off the boardwalk into the lake for a bath, a swim.

We were in no hurry to sightsee, and spent this week giving in to living differently, to the rythm of the water, rocked and comforted by its movement, to the colors in the sky, to the high mountains always visible, and mostly graced by affection and love granted to us by a family who so easily adopted us in their lives.

Dusk on the canal

Aman's boat

Flower Vendor's boat

Hanging out at the deck

Neighbours' boats and kishtis

Spring on the boardwalk

Bringing breakfast home

Floating farms on Dal Lake

Wular Daria

One of the most impressive places we visited in Kashmir was Wular Lake or as locals call it Wular Daria. I grew up to "daria" meaning "sea"-the lake is vast enough for the locals and local myths to refer to it as Daria.

A photo feature of this spectacular location can be found here.

Srinagar- A Jewel in the Crown

If Kashmir crowns India with stunning natural beauty, rich cultural heritage, astoundingly diverse geography,and sublime climate -then, surely, Srinagar is the singular jewel in this crown. Dominated by snow capped Pir Panjals, and irrigated by Jhelum with its network of canals, the city grew around the majestic blue-green Dal lake with its opulent houseboats, floating gardens, vegetable markets, and a maze of waterways leading to flourishing handicraft industries in finest form. It was here that influences from far and distant lands of Mongolia, China mingled with that from Persia, and Europe to emerge in a breathtaking tapestry of unique cultural identity with highly evolved forms of arts, crafts and architecture. Thus Srinagar became pivotal in evolution of finest carpet weaving, baroque paper mache, luxuriant silks and wools with refined needlework, and richly carved woodwork of the traditional walnut. Kashmiri architecture carved its own distinctive niche with wooden square steeples, wood inlaid work and simpler architectural forms in striking contrast to the development in the Indian plains to the south.[My two favorite mosques were the Shahi Hamdan with interiors made entirely of paper mache in gold and jewel tones, and Jamia Masjid with austere, refined interior made of cedar in wooden monochromes.]

Interior of Shahi Hamdan

Inside Shahi Hamdan

Inside of Jamia Masjid

Jamia Masjid

We arrived in Srinagar in spring this year-a time for change, flux, a visible alteration in the mood of the city. The Chinars (maples) were bursting in neon greens, the Safedas(poplars) again rustling. Doves circled overhead, and ducks splashed in the lake. Shikaras plied once more on Dal lake, in rich gaudy colors, kishtis crowded the waterways laden with produce, flowers. Mughal gardens reopened on Baishakhi-the first day of spring, and still competed for attention of admirers hundreds of years later. Shiraj - the tulip garden- put on an impressive show with nine hundred thousand tulips marking its opening.

People also racially merged in Srinagar and defined their own Kashmiri identity with distinctive clothing, food, and lifestyles. With spring, heavy woolen pherans that sheltered live kangris were shed, and lighter pherans with flashing tilla work, colorful headscarves and silver jewellery made a more flamboyant statement. Men could be seen sitting in groups in the courtyards, sharing a hookah, while longer lines of people relaxed and gossiped awaiting kashmiri bread outside bakeries.

phirens with tilla work

Along the lake front, shutters reopened after long winter months, Lal Chowk overflowed with merchandise, and travellers from distant lands could still be seen crossing the ancient wooden bridges over the Jhelum- tall Pathans with fiery beards, traders from buddhist Ladakh, portly merchants from the Indian plains. Srinagar accepted them all with a rakish laughter, a crinkled cunning look, ready to strike a bargain, acknowledging their historical role and ready once more to gain from it.

Faces from Kashmir

Gulmarg Memories: Spring Arrives

Iqbal writes of Kashmir:

Agar firdose baroye jameen ast,
hame asto, hame asto, hame ast.....


If heaven resides on earth,
then it is this, it is this, it is this....

so recited Zahoor of limpid eyes and gentle smile over tea at Lala's restaurant in Gulmarg. Zahoor also poignantly once said during a long evening walk-"we do not want militants, or military in Kashmir" remarking on the extremely strong military presence in Gulmarg, which lies just a few miles from the current line of control between India and Pakistan. Meanwhile, nature continued its unhindered course -unmindful of human sorrows, human conflict, the strife to own this earth, call it mine.

Our days in Gulmarg flew in rapid ease, under the shadow of great mountains, snow clad, dominating-immense sentinels to our changing days-changing with the changes of earth around and beneath us- and awakening with it. Each day brought new surprises, new gifts emerging in tiny measures at our feet-a dusting of green interspersed swathes of white in a miraculous renewal of life- tender, fragile, and yet tenacious enough to unfurl, curl upwards, a shoot, a tendril, a tiniest fleck of life, color, yellow, purple, pink, white, blue, at tips of wisps of green-a plumping up of branches, brambles, a sudden burst of color, buds, blossoms, where sheaths of ice, snow had clad a sleeping earth; new streams bubbled, ran, flowed, new lakes formed to reflect infinity of sky, its moods from deep blue to light, fluffy, white, ominous greys- dark, and overhanging, to vast inky sapphires, crystal studded at night- what was once only in the heavens, was now absorbed, and visible deep within earth's bosom.

What energy persuades this awakening? Will I similarly awaken to a me unknown before-to a unhindered joy, unmindful, unashamed, uncaring of human world-following a primordial call
from beyond?

Gulmarg Remembered: White Days, Clean Heart

No separation
white peaks merge into white skies
Gulmarg Winters.

Our days in Gulmarg dawn daily with crystal whites of glittering peaks under dense overhanging white skies. Deep, dark, forests, ancient and mysterious, add swathes of chinese charcoal to these dreamy scrolls. One looks in awe for the artists' stamp, red, oval, calligraphed, at the bottom of the picture window... a picture this perfect, pure, colorless, just a flourish of a masters' brush - eternally perfect, eternally changing.

Deep silence pervades my world punctuated by soft murmured voices, crackling of pine in the Bukhari, a sudden scream of a kite swooping down in a hunt. These days of beauty and quiet are rare gifts in a life- any life. In these days of quiet renewal, new friendships are formed, new ties forged, bonds connect strangers of just days before....human affection and warmth cocoon my days with love and security-my kids laugh with their new found friends, their cheeks turn plump and rosy in these winter days of plenty-food, play, love, warmth. Cobwebs of previous life are now swept aside, cares unburdened, and heart re-awakened in wonder of nature, beauty.