We were there for a Sociology seminar at Kashmir University although I doubt if anyone went for the Sociology. Srinagar trumped Sociology. It was always going to have to be that way. Everyone knew that.
There were other foods that were simply big-time memory-makers – saffron tea with dried nuts in it served on nice china from a huge pot that had a little charcoal oven inside it, for example. Or apple plucked right from the tree, red and powder white from the cold, which if you bit into it, juice flowed down to your elbows. Or mini apples. It was also where I found out that you could simply open an apple barehand if you had the strength and/or the knack for it; scared me shitless first time someone on the market opened one that way. Then there was Gosht. Gushtaba. But the street food though…
Srinagar really deserves to be called Paradise On Earth; it was that beautiful. We visited old forts and gardens. On one of them, I climbed over to the very edge of the fort and someone took a photo. I do not like this picture because now it gives me palpitations. At one time in your life, you are just dumb enough to think the world is rigged in your favour and you’re never going to die. I think that was mine.
My mum scolded me soundly for it when I went home.
This scolding happened again when a few years later, I got the chance to visit the Grand Canyon. I went on some local bus or the other. A couple of old Chinese lady tourists kept thinking I was Chinese, I think, because they kept following me and talking to me. When I shook them off my tail, I met a couple who asked me if I was Indian. A little surprised, I said yes, I was. But then they started conversing with me and something clicked; I had to say I was Indian by way of the country India. We had a good laugh. The girl of the couple told me about a Cherokee god and dreamcatchers. A man on the ride back thought I was Mexican and assumed he couldn’t converse with me because he didn’t know Mexican; I never corrected him. I have watched too many American crime shows.
Food wise, it was not the best. We ate some shredded beef or turkey thing that was sweet. I do not care for sweet meat.
The scolding happened because I asked one of the guards at the Canyon if I could swing my legs off the edge and if he could take a picture of it. He said yes, and he did. And another guard scolded the both of us for it saying I could have died. And I suppose that was when it occurred to me that I still thought the world was rigged in my favour. My mother was not happy with the picture. She scolded me again when I returned home.
Later still, at Dungtlang when I climbed on Lianchhiari Lunglen Tlang in my puan, I knew mum was going to have palpitations again. But I was older and a little more world-weary by this time; I didn’t climb all the way to the edge. I do however wonder if maybe I still think the world is generally rigged in my favour sometimes. It’s not a bad way to be, although perhaps not the most recommended. Just a smidge foolhardy.
Food wise, at Dungtlang, I had sweet milk tea that was a little weak for my taste. I think people should normalize red tea; you can’t go wrong with red tea at least but there are too many ways to not make good sweet milk tea. Another rant for another time.
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