Kashmir Diaries - 1

 

From Bangalore to Srinagar: A Saga of Lines

Our trip to Kashmir starts via a flight to Srinagar with a stopover at Amritsar. We leave home a little after 6:00 AM for a 9:30 AM flight. Traffic is light and we make good time. However, there are quite a few cars at the toll gate but there are multiple gates open as well. This is different from my earlier experiences where I would find long queues in front of just two gates while the other gates remained firmly shut. There is a slight wait at the toll gate despite multiple gates being open.

We reach the airport a little after 7:00 AM and find it as crowded as a railway station. There are long lines to even enter the airport but a kind CISF guard takes pity on us (there is something wrong with our trolley and pushing it is difficult) and allows us to enter through the gate reserved for physically challenged people which significantly cuts down the wait time.

We enter the airport and find long, long queues at the check-in counter. The automated counter to print boarding pass and baggage tags is not working properly, we are not able to print baggage tags. For a change, the Indigo staff are helpful and tell us that the counter official will help us with the baggage tags.

Once we check in, we continue to security, and I find that we have to give up the convenient trolley and carry the hand baggage ourselves. I have a back issue and carrying weight is contra-indicated which means that I am puffing and grunting with pain by the time we reach security - to be faced by long lines yet again!

A CISF guard helps me and picks up my bag and puts it in the tray and into the X-ray machine. And then starts the shedding process where we are told to remove a slew of items – medicines, smart phone, smart watch, chargers, ointments, liquids, belts etc. Every time I travel, I tell myself that I will be better prepared for this ordeal next time by having all these things in a separate, easily retrievable bag so that I do not hold up people waiting behind me. But that is not to be, I always forget, and hold up the line, while others chafe with impatience at the delay. I can literally feel the waves of impatience from the gentleman standing behind me.

I go to the booth for the body check and am alarmed at the beeping sound that I set off! The CISF lady, however, remains calm and just asks me what I am wearing. I show her the abdominal belt that I wear for my disc issue and she lets me go without much ado. Doubtless, all in a day’s work for her, but I am relieved to say the least – I had half expected to be taken for a suicide bomber and subjected to an interrogation by the security staff, especially considering our destination😉! I guess I watch too many Bollywood movies…

We then proceed to the lounge where again there is a line. We use the lounge mainly for the clean washrooms. Here too we are faced with lines. Many people are being turned away for not having the ‘right’ card – the alternative is to shell out over ₹2,000 per person. The breakfast is a buffet with a variety of dishes. Though a strict vegetarian, I go to the non-veg counter, mainly to see sausages at close quarters. Having grown up on a steady diet of Enid Blyton books, (I still read them and believe they are the best antidepressant ever😍) I have always been curious about the food descriptions in Enid's books though the fare is very unfamiliar. I look at the sausages which are shaped like the Indian sweet kaju roll, though smaller. It is cream in color with some brown lines on it. My husband is amazed to see me bending over and peering at the sausages—he looks shocked🤯 at this sudden detour from the straight and narrow herbivorous path! Having satisfied my longstanding curiosity about sausages, I then choose a single hot idli and sambar like a true-blue, loyal South Indian😜.

We then start on the long trek to gate 38 – believe me, it is very far. Luckily we are able to commandeer an airport buggy and I am rather embarrassed to see a much older couple legging it to gate 33. Not only that, they refuse to get on the buggy with us (spoilsports😠), further deepening my embarrassment. I assuage my embarrassment by telling myself I cannot afford to go down with back pain at the start of the holiday!

Boarding is in progress, and yes, we join yet another line. People stand close to each other ensuring that no compatriot can barge into the middle as we Indians are wont to do. When I visited the US in 2022, I was amazed to see a distance of about three or even four feet between two people. In fact on one occasion, soon after arriving, I stood so close to the gentleman in front of me that he literally leapt away! But my desi culture and obtuse DNA stood me in good stead—for each step he took away from me, I moved two steps toward him, believing that the queue was moving! My son held my arm and pulled me back, explaining the concept of ‘personal space in public places’. 

Personal space in public spaces😖?!!! Really?! We don’t have personal space at home - most desis have no concept of it!! Try using transport in rural India where harvest, vegetables, fruits, flowers, livestock, and personal baggage jostle for space with about a million people. Even the roof tops are full to bursting! And having achieved the dubious distinction of being the most populous country on the planet, India will have to grow 10x in surface area to make ‘personal space in public places’ a reality! Maybe we should try reclaiming our oceans, after all our country is a peninsula – plenty of ocean space to try our hand at a spot of reclamation😄.

Take-off time

I am quite fascinated at the different ways people behave during take-off. There is invariably at least one person in the vicinity who sits with hands folded, eyes closed, and lips moving as he or she invokes every god and goddess for a safe take-off – this time it is a lady diagonally behind me. At least, I assume she is praying for a safe flight – of course, she could be a suicide bomber in disguise praying that the plane will blow up as planned🤣!

Then there are the compulsive talkers and gigglers, they seem to be trying to hide their anxiety but are doing a poor job of it, especially when we start hearing weird barking sounds from the aircraft. Lots of nervous laughter when the sound finally stops. And then there are the selfie addicts who take scores of selfies to try and distract themselves from the take-off process🤷.

Some try to read nonchalantly while some others are unconcerned and snore through it. Yet others are excited and look out of the tiny window, staring at the barren landscape with the inevitable glass fronted office complexes and apartment buildings on the horizon – they are probably flying for the first time and want complete paisa vasool. Devanahalli airport is at a distance of 25 kms from the centre of the city and when the airport was first developed, there was no habitation around it. But now one sees quite a bit of construction happening which means the city is slowly moving toward the airport and the day may not be far off when the two merge with hardly any demarcation between them. I am reminded of Arthur Hailey’s novel, Airport, where the head of the airport and protagonist, Mel Bakersfield, has to constantly battle protests from residents in the vicinity due to the noise. The film based on the novel got 10 Oscar nominations! I haven't watched the movie yet because I find movies based on books disappointing - one example that readily comes to mind is The Day of the Jackal based on a novel of the same name by Frederick Forsyth, another favourite author.

In today’s flight, there is a superstitious, old uncle who is quite aghast that the plane is moving in reverse, first thing in the morning! This superstition has always flummoxed me, that a vehicle should only move forward first thing in the morning – it should not move in reverse because then your whole day also will go in ‘reverse’ mode🙄. I even know people who park in reverse so that they can drive forward instead of backward the next morning! Poor uncle will likely have a worrying time till we land at Amritsar in one piece. And then there are people like me - who are busy observing everyone at take-off time!! 

The plane turns and moves ahead, and yes, joins a line of planes waiting to take off. Is this a portent of things to come – lines everywhere? We are finally airborne, the crescendo of the plane's engines revving up just before we lift off wakes the snorer next to my husband! He stares blearily out of the window for a few moments and then nods off again almost immediately, making me wonder if he is hungover – after all the previous day was a Friday! He is built and dressed like a bouncer – may be bouncers in bars are allowed free booze as a perquisite of the job! Food for thought…a new career choice given the possible bonus?!

Soon after take-off, a passenger diagonally in front of me takes out a packet of food. Reminds me of when my mother would pack huge quantities of chapatis as we moved the length and breadth of the country courtesy my father’s transferrable job with the Ministry of Defence, Government of India. The journey sometimes took up to three days and train food was eminently avoidable in those days (but surprisingly, I am told that IRCTC food is now much better than what airlines typically offer). So we would carry at least 50 chapatis, avalakki (poha), bread, and other food items that would not spoil easily to last the five of us for three days. The subzi would last only for the first day – after that it was dry chapati with melted butter or ghee and chutni pudi (transfer season typically coincides with the sweltering heat of May and the subzi would spoil after day one and the butter would be runny, trains weren't air-conditioned those days). I observe a few more such similarities between air and rail travel. The chasm between the two is narrowing – the glamor of flying is long gone. Many rail travellers are now graduating to air travel. The gentleman next to me demonstrates this, he dumps his used tea cup below his seat. He has made the economic jump but is yet to learn the cultural ropes of air travel - he is unaware that trash will be collected by the crew before the end of the flight. I am eager to see how he will bend over and retrieve the cup from below his seat, considering he is sitting in the middle seat!!

We hit a patch of turbulence due to bad weather and passengers are requested to remain seated and wear seat belts. Frankly, I do not understand what the fuss is about – travelling 35 kms daily over the potholed roads of Bangalore rattle my bones far more than this bit of turbulence. Of course, the main difference is that we are hanging in the air (literally) instead of being nestled in the firm and grounded😜 (pun intended) bosom of Mother Earth!

The turbulence eases and coffee is served much to the husband’s relief. He is not a restful traveller and is generally quite fidgety – I now take the precaution of having the aisle firmly between us so I can type my memories in peace and still talk to him when needed. The coffee calms his nerves and he strikes up a conversation with a family behind him who are from Vijayapura (Bijapur) but stay in our neighbourhood in Bangalore – small world indeed! Having worked extensively in Vijayapura and Bagalkot districts - courtesy his long tenure with the State Bank of India - he is even able to speak with them in their version of Kannada, which makes them very happy, indeed! He also buys an exorbitantly priced box of cashew nuts aptly named ’nut case’ – this describes my husband to a T, he even admits it!😂 He buys these boxes whenever we fly Indigo, in fact, we have quite a collection at home, making me wonder if he shells out our hard earned moolah for the box or its contents🤔.

After the eating and drinking, comes the inevitable visit to the washroom. On the way to the washroom, I am pleasantly surprised to see two people reading physical books. Unable to get used to the Kindle, I regularly buy books that I don’t have the time to read, prompting my colleague and dear friend to call me a tsundoku - I tell him it is part of my retirement plan😁. Never having used the washroom in a domestic flight, I am amazed at how tiny it is, especially for a big person like me. I soap my hands liberally and then regret my OCD tendency when I see the thin trickle of water – Indigo claims to use 98% less water even at 35000 feet! Though I have no clue what altitude has to do with water usage. I use the washroom at the front near the cockpit which is reserved for the crew--because, yes the one at the back meant for passengers has a long line! I spy one of the pilots – a woman – balm to my feminist soul to see women shining in a hitherto male dominated domain (as of 2021, India was numero uno globally in the number of female pilots). May their tribe increase further! And as I walk back to my seat, I see a few more people with physical books, much to my delight.

45 minutes to touch down at Amritsar, the bouncer and his companion have exchanged places with the bouncer taking the window seat. His companion is a super snorer and the husband is now sitting awkwardly, turned toward the aisle at an angle of 45 degrees. His resigned expression is hilarious and I burst into uncontrollable laughter😆– like the ones triggered by the escapades of Bertie Wooster or Uncle Fred. Bless you, P G Wodehouse, for livening up many a boring journey!

Touchdown at Amritsar is a repeat of take-off as far as the amusing antics of the passengers are concerned. An additional aspect is that some passengers hold on to the seat in front, bracing themselves for the drastic reduction in speed that follows touchdown. I wonder if the runway is perhaps shorter than normal – the plane comes to a dead halt within minutes of touchdown and then turns right toward the terminal. 

A motley group of passengers board at Amritsar, sardars, Punjabis, and Kashmiris as well. The flight to Srinagar is uneventful - by now most of us who boarded in Bangalore are tired. Even the usually boisterous Punjabis are unusually mellow. After a long wait at the conveyor belt (no line here, though!), our luggage finally pops out—first in, last out, as we boarded in Bangalore. Shujat, the driver arranged by the travel agent, meets us outside the airport and we start for the hotel. He is well-informed and talkative – gives us quite a bit of information. One titbit that sticks in my memory is that a whopping ₹350 crore was spent on buying commercial passenger vehicles in the last one year (data from Srinagar RTO)! Shujat is firmly convinced that this is a direct result of the abrogation of Article 370, and he is extremely bullish about the future of tourism in Kashmir. On the drive to the hotel, I see visible signs of poverty – dilapidated houseboats on the river Jhelum (pronounced Jehelum locally) serve as residences, most buildings look dingy and badly maintained - courtesy the years/decades of militancy; tourism seems to the main source of livelihood for most of the population.

Our hotel is comfortable, and wonder of wonders, no line at the check-in counter! We are the only guests arriving just then. We finish a late lunch at 4:30 pm and then have a much-needed rest.

Next: Kashmir Diaries - 2: An evening on the Dal Lake