Sathya was up and about by 8 am. Shed given up trying to read last night- what with all the bhajans being set to catchy film tunes-and pulling a quilt over her head, slept. I think this is an exceptionally devout neighbourhood because 2 hours after the bhajans singers got sore throats and trailed off, azaan began. I said my namaaz and by the time I reached deep-sleep mode, Sathyas tones rang out, hurry up, theres fresh, hot Kashmiri bread and noon chai... Rajma chawal for lunch. Feroz, 23, a tall, handsome student whos taken this driving Miss Daisy summer job asks anxiously, how is it? We literally devour 3 helpings. He blushes the colour of the rajma and Waheeda and Zamruda, the beautiful, teenage daughters of the caretaker reveal that he took over the kitchen. A labour of love. The average Kashmiri is proud, sensitive, sentimental, laid back and you will find, top to bottom, that like the Irish local, they all are more politically conscious than the average indigenous citizen elsewhere. After lunch I pounce on Lipton tea and a guest, for an update on what does Kashmir want? The answer is resolute and unchanging. Neither Pakistan nor India.
Posted on: Mon, 18 Aug 2014 10:42:49 +0000
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