Critical in Kashmir

It is possible that I am a terrible person but I’m just gonna have a go at Kashmir. Like a bitchy one. I mean, it is picture perfect with a mystical lake, snow capped mountains, fairy tale castles, ancient mosques, fields of saffron, cardamom tea, romantic houseboats, all that stuff, blah blah beautiful.

But I’m gonna bitch about it anyway.

Because everyone you meet in Kashmir has a sob story.

And sob stories get tiresome.

Kashmir is a controlled state. India owns it. Pakistan wants it. And Kashmir would kinda like to keep it for themselves. It’s a state in limbo. And still at war.

And with war comes disdain.

Bloody Indians, say the Kashmiris.
Bloody Kashmiris, say the Indians.

And I don’t know what the Pakistanis say because they are not really allowed inside. Also, everyone calls them Paks.

As South Africans, we were kind of stuck in the middle.

And yet the Kashmiris were fabulous hosts. And there were several times when we almost tripped over yaks and fell headfirst into the lake because of the beauty. And the gorgeous men. Their beards, stature, strong hands, dark eyes, delicious sexiness and did I mention – strong hands?

They’re astonishing.

But also very bloody manipulative.

As Salam Alaykom, good morning, hello, they would say.

And then, without waiting for an answer…

My son missed out on school. I really need to get him an education.
My daughter had to marry at sixteen. I want very much to help her.
I work three jobs and only sleep two hours a night.
Buy this ring, it’s the only way I can bless my wife.
My own carpets are threadbare…
I had to let go of my goat…

It felt like everything was about money. You almost had to pay for a hello. Or for directions. And if you buy one thing, it isn’t enough. You have to buy two. Three. Four.

Just one more Miss.  Please.  My child…

When you don’t buy anything, ooh Allah Yufaquk Yufaquk, shoulders slump and faces get sulky.

We felt a bit bullied. And bullshitted. And we’re both good travellers and know when to say no or fuck off, but the Kashmiris are master trader bullshitters.

We had been warned. But I gotta say, it kinda spoils the beauty. And the beauty is a little – OH GOD ALLAH SORRY STRIKE ME DOWN NOW – chocolate box beauty. The painted shikaras, the very quaint overly carpeted houseboats. It’s all gorgeous, but kinda, contrived.

Except for the macaroons!!! And the French pastry shop. The flower sellers weren’t bad either. And some of the moustaches were just perfect. There are gems that, when you do manage to wander around alone without being hassled, surprise and astonish. The rose gardens are magnificent, the early morning calls to prayer echo through the whole town and over the lake, and I loved the wild  barking of dogs as they prepare for their nightly roaming.

I did love it. I’m cynical and just a little unfair, I know that. And we were so well cared for. We were brought tea in bed, treated like queens and also offered marijuana and most importantly, husbands.

Many husbands!

Maybe we were too spoiled.

But maybe we were also just a little bit too controlled.

Whatever it was, Kashmir didn’t quite do it for me.

Sorry.

kash

Top ten:-
Dal Lake, old city of Srinagar, Khanqha Shah Hamdam Mosque, Kashmiri tea, Kashmiri moustaches, macaroons, honey, The Himalayas, shikaras and houseboys oops sorry I meant houseboats.

Bottom ten:-
Six security checks on arrival. Seven checks on departure. Phones blocked from arrival until departure. One million heavily armed Indian soldiers dressed in camouflage with branches still hanging from their heads. Baksheesh.

And where, oh where, are all the women? Because we saw very very few.

men

flower

25 thoughts on “Critical in Kashmir

    1. Oooh I knew I was going to get into trouble. I come from a country with huge contrast between rich and poor and am hugely empathetic. It’s the way this was done, in your face, that kind of got in the way of the beauty. and sometimes tourism is exactly that – tourism. it didn’t feel like a very real experience, in Kashmir.

      Liked by 2 people

  1. You would know about being harassed in the streets, living in Jo’burg, but I have heard tales just like yours.
    Still, you’ve been there now and most of it was stunning 🙂

    Like

    1. yeah. it wasn’t being harassed by the poor. poor people ask for food or money, and that is fine, you either give or you don’t. that was not the issue. it felt that Kashmir salespeople used the Kashmiri tragedy (which it is) to benefit their tourism, I don’t know, it’s hard to explain, too many sob stories. (I am a hardened Joburger, clearly…)

      Liked by 1 person

      1. You do? And I have your dress. By the way, every time you mention that lemon, ginger honey water in your India blogs I sort of swoon in longing and memory.

        Like

  2. Such is the way of the (third) world. Wild beauty dotted with poverty and sob stories. Such is the way of life. Because of our humanity, we feel a bit guilty. But, we’re dealt with what we got; we just work with our lot. At the end, I say, look for the beauty, smile with compassion, and just go on with your journey.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. The “Haggle Trade” cultures are a bit overwhelming 😔

    Indiscriminately being ultra nice to go fuck yourself, and all points in between is an exhausting ride on the emotional roller coaster. Their magnificent surroundings are mundane to them, yet that the reason everyone else is there visiting. In Marrakesh, the nice shops were disguised as ordinary from the street, to wart off the hustle of what you’ve described. At least you got to see the beauty above the human social decay…😎

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Geoff Dyer, who I am secretly in love with, has a new book on tourism. The Ethics of the Secular Pilgrimage. I think he brings all of this into it and am dying to read it. I had similar reactions in parts of Mozambique and Kenya where locals exploit tourists and tourists exploit locals and sometimes, travel needs to be done in a different way.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. This sounds pretty eventful and I can imagine how wearing out it must be to hear sob tales after sob tales. I hope you bought a lovely handwoven Kashmir scarf. At least you got good fodder for your writing and an experience 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  6. I get it and I am glad you wrote about it! Travel is a blessing…except when it is tainted by underlying currents of guilt and hostility!

    Like

  7. Sigh! As much as I would love to defend my country and contradict this, we both know its a failed cause and I can very well relate to the situations mentioned here. I must say you are brave to visit Kashmir! Many Indians themselves keep postponing it due to the military conditions there.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s