Aambrosia

Mumbai

It’s the second day of the Mumbai attacks. People in Srinagar who are talking about this horrific violence are unconvinced by the New Delhi News Channel’s assertion that the terrorists are all from Pakistan and came by boat to the shores of Mumbai. (On this Friday I’m writing from inside a local family’s home as a citywide curfew for all of Srinagar has been imposed by the Indian military.)

In response to the media coverage of the atrocities in Mumbai this is what I’ve been hearing from people in Kashmir: Why haven’t they showed footage of any of the terrorists? The reason, people say, is because if the pictures would show that they’re Indians and not Pakistanis. This is just another ploy to make Pakistan look bad in front of the international community, another effort to make all Pakistanis out to be terrorists, much in the same way that India’s media makes us Kashmiris all out to be separatists agitating for an autonomous Kashmir.

In fact, many of Srinagar’s middle and upper-middle class people are strongly apolitical; they just want to be left alone. Many people don’t understand all of the hullabaloo over Kashmiri independence. Look at the control India has over Kashmir, they say. That’s not going to change.

It’s no wonder that people here are skeptical of the the-terrorists-are-Pakistani scenario that we’ve been seeing all over the news. Many of them feel unjustly maligned by the same media. Kashmiris live their lives here under the watchful eyes of the Indian military, posted every half block in the capital city and around the rest of the province, along highways, in village markets, at the entrances to banks and hospitals. The soldiers set up random roadblocks and check-points, forcing all drivers to pull over. Cars are searched, and the drivers have to show identification.

In the three weeks that I’ve been here, unannounced curfews have shut down Srinagar two to three times per week. The curfews make life difficult for local people for a number of reasons -- mainly that unable to leave their homes, people cannot get to their mosques for prayer. Many people I’ve talked to call this a direct attempt by the Indian military to infringe on the religious rights of Muslims.

A more serious result of the curfews, with all businesses closed and the streets locked down, men cannot earn money that day to feed their families. Many of the poorer families here are forced to live like that: a day’s wages for the husband goes towards that night’s dinner.

Thanksgiving Day, Shalimar Gardens, Srinagar

T.V. or Snooker

Many television channels in India offer paid ad space. The result of this is that on many channels the lowest quarter of the screen is taken up by a red-and-yellow, flashing eye sore of an advertisement.

But during the Kashmiri winter when the weather is cold and it’s raining or snowing there’s not much to do inside besides attempt to stay warm and watch television if there’s electricity. Since the lights are so dim I’ve taken to lying down on the carpeted floor and reading in the television’s light.

The younger male crowd (per Muslim custom, young men and women, unless related, cannot be together in public) convenes in dark, smoke-filled pool halls (no alcohol though, also forbidden in the Koran) to play pool or snooker.

The Jobless Winter

To keep warm during the frigid winter months. families huddle around their individual kangris, small baskets lined with clay and filled with hot coals.

Where they sit against pillows lining the walls of their living room (Kashmiri people use basically no furniture) they tuck the kangris under their tunics:

Javed, above left and below right, spends six months of the year in Leh, Ladakh selling pashmina ad cashmere shawls and other handmade crafts. With the problems with Pakistan and political unrest in Srinagar and elsewhere in Kashmir, tourism hasn’t been good, so Javed brings his business to Leh during the summer months. Now, during the Kashmiri winter, he stays home with his family in Srinagar but is without work. During a recent citywide curfew that closed all schools and businesses, Javed was home with his his eleven-year-old son, Aquib,

and his daughter, Nadia:

Aquib and Nadia, Friday After School, Srinagar

Electricity in Srinagar

During the late fall and winter in Srinagar it rains or snows every few days which cuts the power for some of the day and most of the nighttime hours, when most homes need electricity.

For its energy needs the city depends on hydroelectric power—abundant in the spring and summer after the snow in the mountains melts but limited during the colder months.

One of the many tense political issues in Kashmir is the selling, by the provincial government, to other provinces in India, of the majority of the province’s hydroelectric power leaving its own citizens stranded in the dark.

As a result, Kashmiri people go through much of the winter using cell phones and candles to light their houses at night. The more well off families have small generators the size of lawnmower engines to feed into their grid, but the power only allows for the dimmest interior lighting, enough for the duration of dinner and an hour or so of television before going to bed.

Cold Weather Sustenance: Root Vegetable Curries

In fall and winter, Kashmiris cook with root vegetables, greens (kale and spinach primarily), yellow lentils, and kidney beans to create some of the most flavorful dishes I’ve found so far in India.

Their vegetable curries always have a spicy, red-chili gravy to mix with rice, which is the staple for every lunch and dinner, and people have their meals without utensils: they eat with their right hands and use the left to serve the dishes (spoons are used here) and drink water. When finished, they pour water over their right hand to wash.

To start the day, Kashmiris keep breakfast simple with sweet tea and a piece of flat, crispy bread (these along with Kashmiri biscuits, shown above, are baked in bulk in large clay-walled ovens and because no one has an in-home oven these are the only food item that Kashmiris don’t make from scratch in their own homes). Breakfast is light, and since lunch isn’t served until early afternoon it’s customary to take a late morning snack of sweet milk tea and a sesame seed biscuit.

The stove is on the floor, and the women sit on low stools as they work over the burners, usually chopping in their hands right over the pot. The sink to wash dishes is also low to the ground.

Their homes are without furniture. Each room has wall-to-wall carpeting with pillows against the walls, and all meals are served on the floor on top of the dasdarkhan, a sort of tablecloth for the floor.

City on a Lake

November brings heavy, gray clouds to Srinagar that trap in the cold, and when the sky clears you know why there’s such a chill in the air: 15,000 ft. Himalayan peaks hover about you, enclosing the city.

Kashmir’s capital city has many gardens, white-domed mosques, and green shrines and temples, and one imposing, sand-colored castle, set up on a hill and accessible only by footpaths. The city was built by the Mugals, who brought Islam to northern Kashmir in the 17th century.

Located around a number of lakes, Srinagar is divided by the Jhelum River, crossable throughout the city by bridges.

Houseboats (a legacy of the British, both private residences and guesthouses for tourists) cling to the lake’s shores and remain one of Srinagar’s unique tourist attractions.

Dal Lake, Srinagar, Kashmir

Technical Problems Live from Kashmir

A snow storm on Friday wiped out electricity and postponed the Jammu & Kashmir elections. I'll be back later this week after writing an article on tomrrow's rescheduled Assembly elections. Because of Kashmir's geopolitical status between Pakistan and India, these elections bring hoards of villagers into the capital -- here to vote, strike, protest. Indian military fill the streets and everything shuts down, so I'll be seeing what I can and getting the local perspective, but won't be blogging until it's calmed down later in the week.