July 3-5
We checked into our houseboat, Peacock on Nagin Lake in the afternoon following a 200 rupee Shikara ride. This houseboat is newer and nicer than the boat we had stayed on the night of the 30th. It is also on a different lake that has fewer boats and is far less commercial. My son and his girlfriend had arrived the prior day and were staying a few boats away. After settling in and catching up on our electronic communications (since we had been off line for three days [that was sort of relaxing] in Sonamarg), we met in our boat for drinks and discussion.
We then took a cab ride to a friend of my son whose home is in Srinagar and who had returned for Ramadan. They live in the old city so we were transported through a maze of narrow streets and alleyways. Before we arrived we drove through what remained of a cloud of tear gas which lead to coughing fits by all of us. First time I had been exposed to tear gas.
This occurred by the Jama Masjid, a very large mosque. We were told by several people that for the last ten years the Indian Army has been entering the mosque (with their shoes, on some noted bitterly) on Fridays to discourage assemblies of what the army deemed to be nationalist and independence meetings. That has lead to riots, stone-throwing, tear gas and occasional shootings almost every Friday. Stones against bullets, our driver noted.
The dinner at my son's friend's house was good and interesting. No women from the host family participated, although I briefly saw one through the curtains. In addition to my son's friend, the other participants were his father (who is an attorney) and a related freelance photo journalist and a rambunctious 18-month old nephew. The latter was half Korean and his parents live in Korea. He was visiting for the summer and I suspect sent off to make space for his new sister. He was a bundle of energy, continuously stomping and running around the room. The photo journalist is in his early twenties. He has had his pictures published locally, but also a few outside the area including a few in the NY Times of the recent earthquake in Nepal. He said a friend in the army got him up there right after the quake. He intends to apply to Columbia University's School of Journalism in NYC.
The father was the most interesting. A tall, articulate man, he is an ardent Kashmiri nationalist. He detailed the many abuses that Kashmir has endured under Indian rule (no one we spoke to in Kashmir made any reference to the fact that Pakistan controls roughly 1/3 of Kashmir, only that they want nothing to do with Pakistan.) and bitterly commented that after he had gone to the UN to attend a conference about Kashmir and spoke with the then US UN representative Madeline Albright, his passport was "confiscated" for 7 years. He said that India censors communications out of Kashmir and that the world had forgotten about the Kashmiri people. He lamented that no one has taken into consideration what the Kashmiri people want or asked them about their views.
Their house, while large, was sparsely furnished. It had Indian toilets, squat, and a large courtyard that contained a garden full of flowers.
The next day we had breakfast on the houseboat with lots of sweet, old style (pits included) watermelon. This is one of many fruits that is sold in abundance on the streets. We were fortunate to be in India during the mango season. It is a delicious fruit when fresh and sells for less than $1 for a kg.
I decided to hire a driver/guide to take us around Srinagar. I prefer to explore on our own, but Srinagar is much bigger than I expected, 3.5 million residents and spread out for miles. There is no public transit other than the auto rickshaws, and even if I could get around on my own, I would almost certainly get lost. Plus, such services are pretty cheap in India.
Our guide turned out to be much better than most of the guides we had in India. His English did not require a lot of concentration to understand, he did not provide a canned commentary that seemed to be right out of an audio guide, he was authenic and engaged, willing to talk about a variety of topics and was aminable to direction.
We first went to a Mughal garden (there are several around the city dating back to the late 16th century after Akbar conquered Kashmir). They are of similar design with terraced lawns, fountain pools, manicured flower beds and pavilions. This one is now owned and operated by Kashmir's largest bank. It had lots of almond trees and a nice city view. The city jail was adjacent to it. We then went to Chetipacha Gurdwara, a large, gleaming, white, marble, Sikh temple. The 16th century Guru cured a woman of blindness on this site (she promptly expired upon viewing the Guru and is entombed in the temple) which gave rise to the temple. We then went to the Makhdoom Sahib Shrine by way of the "short" steps (that were not short, were very hot without shoes and were lined with beggers) which was within the old city walls and adjacent to a ruined 17th century mosque. There were a lot of Muslim pilgrams, particularly older women, there. Then we went to the Jama Masjid, the large mosque that was the scene of the tear-gassing the prior day. It is a very large 17th century structure that forms a quadrangle around a large fountain garden. The four gatehouses are large and each is different. (None of that perfect Mughal symmatry).
Our guide asked if he could attend a service there. We agreed and I went in to observe. I saw thousands of men streaming in (what few women were there were relagated to the far back; most women prayed in another wing of the Mosque). They initially prayed individually, but as 1:30 approached they all moved to the front and formed long straight lines. Lead by an iman they regularly bowed, kneeled and responded to prayer calls in unison. It was all over in about 8 minutes and everyone streamed out, picking up their shoes as they departed.
Outside the mosque, we met a young Australian tourist whom we had met and briefly conversed with in a restaurant in Jaisalmer. He had been traveling in India solo (periodically hooking up with other travelers for brief periods) for 5 months and intended to travel for 2 more. He had come up to Kashmir by shared jeep. He said the trip was tortorus not only due to the poor state of the roads, but also due to the many Indian Army checkpoints. We had met several other young travelers, all of whom seemed to use extended trips through India to find themselves.
Then we drove to the Khanqah Shah I Hamadan. This is a beautiful and very distinctive mosque that was built in the 18th century. It is very colorful and is covered with elaborate paper-mache reliefs. We could not enter, but peering through the windows revealed a colorful interior with chandeliers filled with colorful bulbs. It is on the site of Kashmir's first mosque which was founded by a Persian saint, Mir Sayed Ali Hamadani (Hamadan is an ancient city now in Iraq), who introduced Sufi Islam to Kashmir and converted many of it's inhabitants. Tamerlane's soldiers eventually killed him, but not before he introduced into Kashmir many of the handicrafts, rug-making and weaving, that continue to sustain its inhabitants.
Among many animals, Indians of all religions revere birds. In all the cities we were in there were huge numbers of pigions, in part because it is considered a blessing to feed them. In the mosque's courtyard a man and his two children were throwing out corn, which attracted hundreds of pigeons. Then we saw a cat slowly approaching the pigions. As it approached, the pigeons took flight and the cat leaped at least four feet in an unsuccessful attempt to catch one. The man feeding the pigions was highly annoyed with the cat and chased him away. Unlike virtually all the other countries we have visited, there are virtually no outdoor cats in India. The only explanation we got for this is that there are lots of dogs, most of whom seem to be wild, and they chase away the cats.
I purchased some bananas and a cucumber for 12 rupees from a street vendor. In contrast a liter of water from a tiny store cost 20 rupees.
We then drove to the Badshah Tomb, but could not actually get there due to traffic congestion. Unlike most tombs in Kashmir it has multiple domes. It houses the mother of a 15th century Kashmir king.
We then drove south in an effort to see the silk-weaving factory. Alas, due to the big flood in 2014, this factory complex had been permanently closed. Aside from the showroom, all we got to see was an administrative office which had several large wooden boxes labeled as the property of the British Tax Revenue Service.
The 2014 flood had a devestating impact on Srinagar. Both of our houseboat owners said that it had surged their boats up onto land and our guide pointed out the water marks on many of the buildings that marked the flood's highwater mark. It also has temporarily suspended the floating fruit and vegetable market that was a feature on Dal lake due to a shortage of product. Our guide bitterly complained that the central Indian government prevented other governments (mainly from Muslim countries) and NGOs from providing aid to Kashmir after the floods, instead promising to address the flood-related problems itself. He said that all the Indian government ultimately provided to homeowners was 3800 rupees, about $60. My son said that the Indian government insisted that all external aid go through Delhi, which the external donors, fearful of waste and corruption, were unwilling to do.
Our guide kept up a lively commentary throughout the afternoon. He too is an ardent Kashmiri nationalist and characterized the Indian Army in Kashmir as an occupying force, that since 1990 has killed 130,000 Kashmiris and locked up tens of thousands more without charges or trials. There is a huge and very visible army presence in both places we visited in Kashmir. He traces the problem back to 1987 when a Muslim party defeated the party backed by the Congress Party for the first time. The government, according to him, locked up the Muslim leaders rather than permitting them to take control of the state government and things have gone downhill since.
We also got a piece of his life story. Both his parents are victims of leprosy. The government permitted them to marry as an experiment. He does not have the disease, but was subjected to such torment at school that he dropped out early. He taught himself English, German and Japenese. He lives with his family and parents, whom we met, in government-provided housing, but which he will have to leave when his parents die.
Back on the houseboat we were subjected to a steady stream of sales calls from passing shikaras. Jewelry. We bought some, then paper mache boxes to put them in, then chocolates and then the grocery boat, from which we purchased water. We declined many others. In tourist land in India one is almost constantly subjected to sales efforts or begging. The only guaranteed respite is in the luxury hotels. Had a nice dinner on the boat with my son and his girlfriend and ate the chocolates for dessert.
The next day we hung out on the boat until about 11 and then met the guide again for a trip to Hari Parbat Hill and a 15th century Mughal Fort of the same name. It sits on a large hill in the center of Srinagar, offering 360-degree views of the city and lakes. Hindus believe that the gods Vishnu and Sharika defeated the Kashmir lake demon on this site. This is the only fort we visited that was only a fort, no palaces or royal quarters here. The fort has been closed to the public, but our guide got us a pass. It is still used by the Indian army. There were lots of eagles soaring about and gliding on the wind currents.
We visited a few Mughal gardens, all very nice and well used on a Sunday, thereby engendering many requests for photos with the locals. We also made the usual trip to a local rug workshop and showroom.
That evening we experienced a lengthy lightning and thunder storm accompanied by high winds and rain that bent the trees, knocked out electricity and rocked the boat. It got stuffy with the windows closed and the fans motionless. But that too passed and we got to sleep.
We checked into our houseboat, Peacock on Nagin Lake in the afternoon following a 200 rupee Shikara ride. This houseboat is newer and nicer than the boat we had stayed on the night of the 30th. It is also on a different lake that has fewer boats and is far less commercial. My son and his girlfriend had arrived the prior day and were staying a few boats away. After settling in and catching up on our electronic communications (since we had been off line for three days [that was sort of relaxing] in Sonamarg), we met in our boat for drinks and discussion.
We then took a cab ride to a friend of my son whose home is in Srinagar and who had returned for Ramadan. They live in the old city so we were transported through a maze of narrow streets and alleyways. Before we arrived we drove through what remained of a cloud of tear gas which lead to coughing fits by all of us. First time I had been exposed to tear gas.
This occurred by the Jama Masjid, a very large mosque. We were told by several people that for the last ten years the Indian Army has been entering the mosque (with their shoes, on some noted bitterly) on Fridays to discourage assemblies of what the army deemed to be nationalist and independence meetings. That has lead to riots, stone-throwing, tear gas and occasional shootings almost every Friday. Stones against bullets, our driver noted.
The dinner at my son's friend's house was good and interesting. No women from the host family participated, although I briefly saw one through the curtains. In addition to my son's friend, the other participants were his father (who is an attorney) and a related freelance photo journalist and a rambunctious 18-month old nephew. The latter was half Korean and his parents live in Korea. He was visiting for the summer and I suspect sent off to make space for his new sister. He was a bundle of energy, continuously stomping and running around the room. The photo journalist is in his early twenties. He has had his pictures published locally, but also a few outside the area including a few in the NY Times of the recent earthquake in Nepal. He said a friend in the army got him up there right after the quake. He intends to apply to Columbia University's School of Journalism in NYC.
The father was the most interesting. A tall, articulate man, he is an ardent Kashmiri nationalist. He detailed the many abuses that Kashmir has endured under Indian rule (no one we spoke to in Kashmir made any reference to the fact that Pakistan controls roughly 1/3 of Kashmir, only that they want nothing to do with Pakistan.) and bitterly commented that after he had gone to the UN to attend a conference about Kashmir and spoke with the then US UN representative Madeline Albright, his passport was "confiscated" for 7 years. He said that India censors communications out of Kashmir and that the world had forgotten about the Kashmiri people. He lamented that no one has taken into consideration what the Kashmiri people want or asked them about their views.
Their house, while large, was sparsely furnished. It had Indian toilets, squat, and a large courtyard that contained a garden full of flowers.
The next day we had breakfast on the houseboat with lots of sweet, old style (pits included) watermelon. This is one of many fruits that is sold in abundance on the streets. We were fortunate to be in India during the mango season. It is a delicious fruit when fresh and sells for less than $1 for a kg.
I decided to hire a driver/guide to take us around Srinagar. I prefer to explore on our own, but Srinagar is much bigger than I expected, 3.5 million residents and spread out for miles. There is no public transit other than the auto rickshaws, and even if I could get around on my own, I would almost certainly get lost. Plus, such services are pretty cheap in India.
Our guide turned out to be much better than most of the guides we had in India. His English did not require a lot of concentration to understand, he did not provide a canned commentary that seemed to be right out of an audio guide, he was authenic and engaged, willing to talk about a variety of topics and was aminable to direction.
We first went to a Mughal garden (there are several around the city dating back to the late 16th century after Akbar conquered Kashmir). They are of similar design with terraced lawns, fountain pools, manicured flower beds and pavilions. This one is now owned and operated by Kashmir's largest bank. It had lots of almond trees and a nice city view. The city jail was adjacent to it. We then went to Chetipacha Gurdwara, a large, gleaming, white, marble, Sikh temple. The 16th century Guru cured a woman of blindness on this site (she promptly expired upon viewing the Guru and is entombed in the temple) which gave rise to the temple. We then went to the Makhdoom Sahib Shrine by way of the "short" steps (that were not short, were very hot without shoes and were lined with beggers) which was within the old city walls and adjacent to a ruined 17th century mosque. There were a lot of Muslim pilgrams, particularly older women, there. Then we went to the Jama Masjid, the large mosque that was the scene of the tear-gassing the prior day. It is a very large 17th century structure that forms a quadrangle around a large fountain garden. The four gatehouses are large and each is different. (None of that perfect Mughal symmatry).
Our guide asked if he could attend a service there. We agreed and I went in to observe. I saw thousands of men streaming in (what few women were there were relagated to the far back; most women prayed in another wing of the Mosque). They initially prayed individually, but as 1:30 approached they all moved to the front and formed long straight lines. Lead by an iman they regularly bowed, kneeled and responded to prayer calls in unison. It was all over in about 8 minutes and everyone streamed out, picking up their shoes as they departed.
Outside the mosque, we met a young Australian tourist whom we had met and briefly conversed with in a restaurant in Jaisalmer. He had been traveling in India solo (periodically hooking up with other travelers for brief periods) for 5 months and intended to travel for 2 more. He had come up to Kashmir by shared jeep. He said the trip was tortorus not only due to the poor state of the roads, but also due to the many Indian Army checkpoints. We had met several other young travelers, all of whom seemed to use extended trips through India to find themselves.
Then we drove to the Khanqah Shah I Hamadan. This is a beautiful and very distinctive mosque that was built in the 18th century. It is very colorful and is covered with elaborate paper-mache reliefs. We could not enter, but peering through the windows revealed a colorful interior with chandeliers filled with colorful bulbs. It is on the site of Kashmir's first mosque which was founded by a Persian saint, Mir Sayed Ali Hamadani (Hamadan is an ancient city now in Iraq), who introduced Sufi Islam to Kashmir and converted many of it's inhabitants. Tamerlane's soldiers eventually killed him, but not before he introduced into Kashmir many of the handicrafts, rug-making and weaving, that continue to sustain its inhabitants.
Among many animals, Indians of all religions revere birds. In all the cities we were in there were huge numbers of pigions, in part because it is considered a blessing to feed them. In the mosque's courtyard a man and his two children were throwing out corn, which attracted hundreds of pigeons. Then we saw a cat slowly approaching the pigions. As it approached, the pigeons took flight and the cat leaped at least four feet in an unsuccessful attempt to catch one. The man feeding the pigions was highly annoyed with the cat and chased him away. Unlike virtually all the other countries we have visited, there are virtually no outdoor cats in India. The only explanation we got for this is that there are lots of dogs, most of whom seem to be wild, and they chase away the cats.
I purchased some bananas and a cucumber for 12 rupees from a street vendor. In contrast a liter of water from a tiny store cost 20 rupees.
We then drove to the Badshah Tomb, but could not actually get there due to traffic congestion. Unlike most tombs in Kashmir it has multiple domes. It houses the mother of a 15th century Kashmir king.
We then drove south in an effort to see the silk-weaving factory. Alas, due to the big flood in 2014, this factory complex had been permanently closed. Aside from the showroom, all we got to see was an administrative office which had several large wooden boxes labeled as the property of the British Tax Revenue Service.
The 2014 flood had a devestating impact on Srinagar. Both of our houseboat owners said that it had surged their boats up onto land and our guide pointed out the water marks on many of the buildings that marked the flood's highwater mark. It also has temporarily suspended the floating fruit and vegetable market that was a feature on Dal lake due to a shortage of product. Our guide bitterly complained that the central Indian government prevented other governments (mainly from Muslim countries) and NGOs from providing aid to Kashmir after the floods, instead promising to address the flood-related problems itself. He said that all the Indian government ultimately provided to homeowners was 3800 rupees, about $60. My son said that the Indian government insisted that all external aid go through Delhi, which the external donors, fearful of waste and corruption, were unwilling to do.
Our guide kept up a lively commentary throughout the afternoon. He too is an ardent Kashmiri nationalist and characterized the Indian Army in Kashmir as an occupying force, that since 1990 has killed 130,000 Kashmiris and locked up tens of thousands more without charges or trials. There is a huge and very visible army presence in both places we visited in Kashmir. He traces the problem back to 1987 when a Muslim party defeated the party backed by the Congress Party for the first time. The government, according to him, locked up the Muslim leaders rather than permitting them to take control of the state government and things have gone downhill since.
We also got a piece of his life story. Both his parents are victims of leprosy. The government permitted them to marry as an experiment. He does not have the disease, but was subjected to such torment at school that he dropped out early. He taught himself English, German and Japenese. He lives with his family and parents, whom we met, in government-provided housing, but which he will have to leave when his parents die.
Back on the houseboat we were subjected to a steady stream of sales calls from passing shikaras. Jewelry. We bought some, then paper mache boxes to put them in, then chocolates and then the grocery boat, from which we purchased water. We declined many others. In tourist land in India one is almost constantly subjected to sales efforts or begging. The only guaranteed respite is in the luxury hotels. Had a nice dinner on the boat with my son and his girlfriend and ate the chocolates for dessert.
The next day we hung out on the boat until about 11 and then met the guide again for a trip to Hari Parbat Hill and a 15th century Mughal Fort of the same name. It sits on a large hill in the center of Srinagar, offering 360-degree views of the city and lakes. Hindus believe that the gods Vishnu and Sharika defeated the Kashmir lake demon on this site. This is the only fort we visited that was only a fort, no palaces or royal quarters here. The fort has been closed to the public, but our guide got us a pass. It is still used by the Indian army. There were lots of eagles soaring about and gliding on the wind currents.
We visited a few Mughal gardens, all very nice and well used on a Sunday, thereby engendering many requests for photos with the locals. We also made the usual trip to a local rug workshop and showroom.
That evening we experienced a lengthy lightning and thunder storm accompanied by high winds and rain that bent the trees, knocked out electricity and rocked the boat. It got stuffy with the windows closed and the fans motionless. But that too passed and we got to sleep.
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