The First Encounter:

It was almost 2 decades ago. 1989. I had just finished my 10th Boards. I was happy, considering that I had started preparing for my exams only a month ago and the fact that I had completely forgotten about ‘Civics’ in my ‘History and Civics’ paper. My father then announced his plan to take us on a vacation - to Kashmir. The paradise Kashmir…of the Bollywood fame before Bollywood shifted westwards to London, Switzerland, America and now Germany. This was to be my first (grown-up) long distance travel and I was ecstatic.

News about extremism was just trickling in and we decided to take the chance. Our backup plan in case of trouble was to go to Rajasthan. I was shivering with excitement when the small IA Boeing finally took off from Delhi. After a few hours, the Himalayas came into view like stretches of grey and white crumpled sheets and the shadow of our plane riding on those undulating landscape below. The pilot announced the temperature to be 8 degrees in Srinagar…which was an unexpected blast of freezing air as we came out from the plane.

The airport was empty as we booked a cab from the tourist office there…a blue ambassador with a middle aged and a very helpful driver. It was mid-April and the tourist season had not yet started, so the roads and the city were completely deserted. Dry poplars and barren chinars lined the lanes. All the houseboats were docked at one side on the Dal lake. The air was crisp and the mountains a deep blue. The driver took us everywhere…all around Srinagar, half way to Sonmarg as the roads were blocked by snow and to Gulmarg where I and my over-enthusiastic sledge driver threw snowballs at my mom and sis.

I learnt a few Kashmiri words (now I remember only treyesh or water and Jaylum or Jhelum), ogled at the very handsome Kashmiri guys, marveled at the way they carried angithis inside the thick overall to keep themselves warm, gaped at the beautiful, happy faces of the women all around, walked the empty roads with my father in the piercing cold evenings and had the most delicious lamb pieces skewered and roasted on charcoal served with red hot chilli dip.

It was a happy, peaceful and breathtakingly beautiful place even in the cold, dry month of April. Even the talks in the city about how the Indian government was not helping them and how they felt more Pakistani than Indians did not dissipate that all-encompassing serenity. It all seemed other worldly – something which will never take shape.

It was my first tryst with the Himalayas. On our way back, when my father asked me about the trip, I told him I preferred the Sea to the mountains! Little did I know the future, mine or the state’s.