Dal Lake, Srinagar, Kashmir

The cleanliness of the water was the first thing I noticed – maybe because we came from Delhi which, at least in the parts we walked through, managed to win over Cairo in the competition for the filthiest place I’ve visited (don’t get me wrong, I still loved Delhi – the filth is just a part of the character). The water of the Dal Lake is dark and it’s hard to judge its depth but the thick underwater grass and the small fish which make it it’s habitat were clearly visible under our Shikara, the small wooden boat used for transport between the mainland and more than a thousand houseboats located on the lake.

Dal was the first part of the Kashmir Valley we’ve seen and if the rest of it is even close in beauty then this place truly is a paradise. The lake and its surroundings we’re astonishing even on a hazy and hot day that we arrived on. The calm surface reflected hundreds of houseboats lined up around its coast and around many small islands. Spread out between the boats are the water lilies, with bright yellow flowers reaching up from the green spherical carpet and small drops of water shining like diamonds on the wide leafs. Up in the air, scanning the space below the surface are several species of birds including eagles and kingfishers and surrounding it all to the East and to the North – rising up like the giant barrier hiding this beautiful valley from the rest of the world - the mighty Himalayas.

The lake is also famous for it’s floating vegetable gardens; cucumbers, pumpkins and other vegetables are grown on the floating vegetable patches and farmed with the use of small boats. One morning we woke up before sunrise to experience the famous vegetable market. It happens every morning at sunrise when growers, wholesalers and villagers meet up in the middle of the lake and the frenzied transactions go on for about an hour. The goods and money change hands (and boats) and the crowd disperse again through little canals between houseboats and lily and lotus patches.

Dal Lake seems to be the world on its own – separate from the polluted, noisy and explosive (read previous post) Srinagar.

Explosive welcome to Kashmir

It took me a few moments to realize that the sound which disrupted our peaceful and tranquil Shikara ride on the Dal Lake was a loud blast. We turned around and saw a thick cloud rising in the air somewhere beyond the west shore of the lake, just over a mile away from us. The smoke flew up quickly and dispersed into the late evening air in the short time in which I managed to release the shutter of my camera only several times. The two locals in our company, boatman and a guide, reacted to it like it was a only a minor disturbance, like when you here somebody shouting and you turn to see what is happening or when you hear screeching of the car brakes on the busy intersection and it catches your attention, but only for a moment. Nothing too unusual in this Eden.

As I’m writing this few hours later, on a beautiful and fresh Kashmir night, sitting on the back of a wooden houseboat straight from the colonial days, I am still not sure if the blast really was another bomb attack by militants or was it (improbable) random explosion in the heart of the old city. Last attack in the area was only two weeks ago. Kashmir has been a disputed region between Pakistan and India since The Partition in 1947 and thousands of people have died since on both sides of the conflict.

The relations between two groups were getting tenser recently and the increase in security was apparent from the moment we arrived at the Srinagar International Airport. The heavily armed soldiers were visible from the moment we walked through the aircraft door. Even though it was a domestic flight there were several additional forms to fill out and security checks on the way out of the airport but none of them too efficient since in all the frenzy with several flights arriving at the same time on this quite small airport I managed walk right out without anybody checking my forms. I did eventually realized my mistake and went back into the airport building to find a person who was supposed to check who is coming into the province.

On the road from the airport to the lake we witnessed the significance that Indian government puts on this conflict and the acclimatization of local people to the military presence in their hometown. The number of military vehicles was equal to that of civilian cars, mopeds and taxis and at least through the window of our cab the Hindu soldiers and the Muslim citizens seemed to have found a way to coexist together. Little did any of us know that only moments after the afternoon call to prayer in the mosques an ugly plot will culminate in a detonation we observed.



We continued our tour of the Dal lake, it’s beautiful patches of Water Lilies, floating gardens and Lotus flowers. The life in Srinagar continues as normal and relishing in the beauty of its surroundings cannot be disrupted by a bomb blast.

Update:
Still didn’t have a chance to post this but in the meantime we found out that the blast was a car bomb – first one in two years – aimed at the police bus coming out of the jail building. It managed to kill four people and injure more than a dozen.
I wonder how do Pakistani’s think (they figured it was a Pakistani national who was behind it) that this would help their cause – do they really think that India will pull 600,000 troops they keep in the region because of an act like this?

First contact with planet India

You don’t need to book a special tour to see the essence of India; it hits you right in the face as soon as you leave the airport. It’s everywhere and it’s overwhelming to ones senses. My eyes marvel at the incredible sights around me as we drive into the city. Each face I see shines with character, with a story to tell. The behavior of locals sometimes causes shock and sometimes amuse in disbelief. Men are urinating on the walls right next to the road, barbers are carrying out their trade on the sidewalks, chicken are being slaughtered right there on the street in front of the restaurant where it’s going to be served in a tasty medley of spices.

While the eyes enjoy this feast of colors, both visual and that of many characters of Delhi, the ears are tortured by a noisy symphony of Indian traffic. The horn on the moped or a car seems to play the most important part of the transport. For a driver in Delhi, losing the ability to warn everybody of his coming with constant honking would probably be more of an issue than a flat tire. The rules of the road do not seem to exist and I held my breath while our bicycle rickshaw driver crossed 6 lanes of speeding traffic to make a right turn and everybody on the road just synched with him and fell back into their flow like there was no interruption at all.

My sense of smell alternates between the two extremes – the smell of freshly baked bread and Indian spices is often rudely interrupted by the smell of urine and then, a few steps further down the street I walk into a cloud of strong incense bringing yet another pungent aroma to my nostrils.




All that in just the first few hours and eight months to go!

Delhi seems like an incredible place, far from beautiful but enchanting in it’s own special way. It will have to wait for a more thorough examination though – we weren’t even supposed to be here right now but because of the airline pilots strike we couldn’t make it to our connecting flight. We only spent one rainy afternoon strolling around the city but we’ll be back. We’re off to Srinagar in a few hours where our adventure was originally set to begin.