The Outsider

It was my first trip home after almost two years and my excitement was just leaping high and above. Waiting at the airport for a delayed flight, I was already dreaming about the fragrance of flowers, the gushing streams and the majestic view of the mountains. Along came the childhood memories of walking into the mustard fields, sitting by the chinar tree all by myself, watching the Lidder flow or just admiring the tempting cherries. Soon I was overflowing with nostalgia. But these images weren’t the only thing that tied me to my home, to Kashmir. There was something more, something organic, something earthy, something peculiar. Something that is so integral a part of the portrait that it almost goes unnoticed. As I landed in Kashmir I wanted to absorb, accumulate and hoard everything to my memory forever. Perhaps I had been away for long enough to have developed the curious eye of a visitor, I started noticing things that were so characteristic of the place. And then it stuck me, these were the things that gave the place its character, it own individuality and it was these small seemingly mundane that made it unique and different. One of the first things I noticed was the bus plying on the highway. It stood out with its ornate design, and rich colours and even the shape. Having travelled by bus for almost 20 years I had never seen it, the way I did now.

The boxed shape of the hand cart so much characteristically Kashmiri making you wonder what lies inside the storage box

The food of Kashmir has been celebrated and talked about a lot but not the bakery. From the elitist kulcha to the plebeian lavasa there is so much choice

The brick houses with the sloping corrugated tin roofs ( in some villages one still finds a few mud houses with thatched roofs). I also came across a wooden granary which are or were so much part of any farmer’s house.

A village woman wearing carrying a samovar on her head to the fields is such a beautiful and a charming image. The pheran and the head dress gives it exotic feel. Add a man with a skull cap wearing a tweed jacket on a pathan suit and the picture is complete

There may no romance, no gloss to these things but they are so inherently part of our identity that makes them so endearing. And till the time we are overwhelmed by the influences of modernity, let us celebrate them, let us preserve them.