Yes! The trip finally happened.. after all the deliberations and doubts and the staff of St. Mary’s made sure they reached Kashmir, and create memories to cherish. From waking up early morning, to breakfast at the airport to missing boarding passes and turbulent flights it was one unforgettable experience. We staff took off on the morning of 16.4.2016 and landed back in Delhi on 18.4.2016.

Landing in the cool city of Srinagar one could breathe health in the surroundings. I’m sure it wasn’t just me who noticed that even the animals and birds looked healthier. After a hearty lunch at Krishna Dhaba the bus took us to Gulmohar Garden. It is interesting to note how we all became the students we take out for trips playing in the cool waters and of course clicking pictures. After spending some time there we dashed off to another place where some of the teachers went to see a garden and the others stopped at a shopping complex in search of authentic Kashmiri dry fruits and pashminas. After sometime we were off to our next destination Hazrat Bal, the beautiful mosque. While some of us were enjoying sitting in the peaceful surroundings, the rest of us got busy with (yes!!) shopping at the stores that had beautiful Chinar wood products. (I for myself bought a chinar wood comb, hair fall has reduced drastically since I must say!) After a long day we finally reached what we all had been waiting for- our house boats. The shikara ride to the house boat was as beautiful as the houseboat itself; water does have the power to soothe your soul. As we were settling down after admiring the beautiful architecture and arrangements of the house boat, koshi ma’am paid us a surprise visit to make sure if we were comfortable.

The next day, after breakfast, we left for Sonmarg. After the three hour long ride in the bus (with garam chai and pakoras in the middle) we reached our destination. Most of us went up on top and had the time of our lives. Though it was freezing, our excitement kept us going. We enjoyed skiing and snow motor bike ride and not to forget the hot soupy maggi. After around two hours of fun we decided to go back to the restaurant and feed our hungry stomachs. And after that the three hour long ride back started. On reaching Srinagar, some of us went back to our house boats while some decided to spend the evening exploring the city markets. We were treated to delicious dinner on coming back. The next morning was the morning of departure. Bidding farewell to the cool environs we reached the airport and after a long security check were finally seated for our journey back home. On reaching Delhi although all of us were cribbing about the weather and getting back to work we were all happy to come back to the place we call home.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          -Monika

A few years back, with the vigour of a young man who had bought himself his first motorcycle, I picked up touring as a hobby. The idea of a tank full of extremely flammable fuel on a motor between my legs as a mode of transport and endless roads—was fascinating! The study of English literature in college had left in my mind stories from around the world. The motorcycle presented a way to escape for a wee-while, inspiring and persuading me to go places I had never been before. And much like any young rider, I too made a bucket list entry to visit the Kashmir Valley and Ladakh on a motorcycle. I even got a T-shirt made which read ‘Bullet to Ladakh’ complete with an insignia and my name on the back to keep myself motivated to plan that trip. I admit I wore that t-shirt a lot and even wore it the day I famously met with an accident that fractured my right leg. Even while I was lying in the soggy government hospital bed staring at the ceiling that looked as dilapidated as my right knee, I knew that I had to make my Kashmir trip happen. Especially since I had broken a leg in my endeavours.

Never did I think that I’d get to experience Kashmir for the first time not as a musician but as a teacher.
 

Amidst the hoopla around our grand entrance as a team of 70 teachers at the Indira Gandhi Airport as well as Srinagar International Airport was the rising excitement of taking our rooms in our house-boats on Dal Lake. These house-boats which are essentially ridiculously expensive properties bought on a patch of the lake, had miraculously survived the floods that washed away everything in 2014. They stand for what kashmir has been for many centuries now, survivors.
On our way, we were welcomed by the picturesque mountains, magnolias and chinnars, maggie joints and military forces with their armoured vehicles and guns. It was as difficult to write all that in one line as it was to read it probably.  Somehow, mountains, magnolia, maggie and the military does not fit the box even if they make for a good alliteration example.

Kashmir presents to the traveller a sense of mystique and enigma. Beyond the beauty of the valleys, the magnificent Chinar trees and the young Kashmiri kids with cheeks of the brightest shade of pink is a great sense of history that built the Kashmir we got to experience. Vestiges of conflicts lasting many centuries is visible in almost every part of this troubled state. Baramulla, which was the first to bear the brunt of paramilitary attack after Independence, or the bustling lanes of Lal Chowk, which still is a haunting reminder of an unfulfilled promise of plebiscite, all have stories to tell from multiple vantage points of culture, religion and human rights. The Utopic picture painted by popular culture restricts Kashmir from truly reflecting its capacity as not just a sight for sore eyes but also as a symbol of persistence.

For a few among us, Kashmir meant more than a tourist destination.

As teachers we teach children about family and home when the kids are young. When they grow older we teach them about values, tradition and cultures. We teach them not just about the home, but also about the world; how the two correspond and interact with each other. While some find it hard to deal with, many even fail to know what it means. While speaking to my colleague in a restaurant which excelled in its Rogan Josh recipe, she narrated her own past during the ethnic cleansing of Kashmir in 1990 when lakhs of Kashmiri pandits were displaced from their ancestral homes. She was young when she had to face the dire truth that her home was going to be taken away from her and no one could do anything about it. Having made the decision to fly to Delhi for her and her little brother’s safety, she had to deal with homelessness of a severe kind. The kind which not only takes away the tangibles, but also the intangibles - your memories. And yet even after sharing these stories of terror and assault, she did mention once in our conversation that she was home after 20 years. Thats right, home. 

Kashmir also shows its beauty through its people. Our limited time in Lal Chowk exposed us to the torturous fumes of the diesel vehicles and coal smoke. The thoroughfare showed no respite as many people seemed to identify me as a tourist and gifted me a stare that shook my insides. Maybe I did look identifiably alien with my shoes and glasses paired with the traditional kashmiri kurta, the phiran. Even at the airport when I was being frisked by the cops, I was asked why I was wearing a phiran. I replied jollily, “अच्छा लगता है”. But that didn’t impress them either. Maybe its because it means that since I am not from around I must not know about their daily struggles. While we complained about the surge pricing with ola during odd-even and other non-issues in Delhi, these people fought for peaceful existence, basic human rights and a hope of a path beyond subsistence. They clearly had faced a lot, braved a lot. And who was I to hate them for being hostile. Kashmir allows it to have people of all sorts.           

Perhaps all of us claim to know a lot about Kashmir but really have no idea what it truly means and represents.  Much like ‘Kashmir’ that won a Grammy for best rock performance by iconic English band Led Zeppelin; but was never really visited by even a single band member. All of us in our own way claim to know much about the valley. We share this pretence with people who believe Kashmir is about romantic shikara rides on Dal Lake; who believe that Kashmir is all about expensive phirans and shawls and delicious rogan josh; who believe that Kashmir is all that is shown in Haider (2014), Mission Kashmir (2000) or even Kashmir Ki Kali (1964). But the Kashmir we saw was beauty shackled by the Armed forces to protect it from the ones who aimed only to harm it, like a woman shackled by traditions to protect her chastity, like a forest shackled by fences to protect it from poachers, like mankind shackled by religion and God for protection against the Devil. Maybe what Kashmir really needs is better dialogue so it can do away with the Armed forces, like a woman who needs modernity with reassurance so that she can do away with the hyper-masculine forces around her protecting her chastity, maybe society needs to be more compassionate so that the forests can be free from the greed of poachers, maybe man needs to find love within to not be blinded by religion.

The Kashmir we saw over two days showed me very little to give me a sense of clarity. Perhaps thats because we visited the valley as tourists with our selfie sticks and go-pro cameras. Our aim was to gratify ourself. Maybe Kashmir will be a little more giving when we visit her as travellers.

Maybe my first visit to Kashmir is still due. Bullet to Ladakh, is anybody out there listening?                 

                                                                                                                                                                                           -Adityan Nair