‘Love’ in Kashmir

 “People travel to faraway places to watch, in fascination, the kind of people they ignore at home.”
– Dagobert D. Runes

              

When someone says Kashmir, the first word that usually pops up in our head is ‘war’; but when you are in Kashmir, all you can think of is ‘love’. Kashmir is that perfect Bollywood set where the lead pair romances; the snow covered mountains of Gulmarg, the green meadows laden with flowers and tall pine trees in Pahalgam, the rustic and golden valleys of Sonmarg and the captivating beauty of the Dal Lake in a shikhara.

My schedule for the day was a one day trip to Pahalgam. So I hired a car, and Mr Akram (the driver) was supposed to be my company for the day. I love nothing more than to talk to the local people, and understand the cities local dynamics. Not everyone in Kashmir is at the LOC!

So, the trip started with short conversations about Kashmir and Mumbai (which is where I reside). He said that tourism in Kashmir has gone up and that he has been taking trips almost every day to the hill stations. So, as soon as I mentioned Mumbai, we spoke about Bollywood and how there are no cinema halls in Kashmir. Apparently, when the army took over during the war, they seized all the cinema halls and bars in Kashmir and used it for refuge (Fascinating, eh?). The short bursts of conversations continued throughout the journey.

Finding Love

Akram was in his late 40s, he wore rimless spectacles and had a very cool sense of dressing. He had a small paunch, and spoke in refined English. You could mistake him for a city man. After a day well spent in Pahalgam, it was time to return.  On our way back, the short bursts of conversations transformed into a long story telling and fascinating conversation.

Akram: “Are you married?”

Me: “No. What about you?”

Akram: “Aah yes I am married. I have a beautiful wife and three children.”

Me: “Oh! That’s nice. Arranged marriage?”

Akram: “Yes, it was…that’s how most of the time it works. But well there are always exceptions.” After a short pause, he continued. Well most Kashmiris, around 70%, earn their livelihood from the tourism industry. Kashmir attracts a lot of foreign tourists who come here and stay for months sometimes.

Me: “Ahan!” (trying to understand the shift in the conversation but I had a feeling it was building an interesting plot)

Akram: “Well most of them come here for winter sports, and some come here to spend the summer. I have been driving since the 1980s, and I have met so many foreigners. They fall in love when they come here.”

Me: “Fall in love? You mean with the beauty of Kashmir?”

Akram (smirks): “Well ya, (chortles) and also with the Kashmiris!”

Me (amused): “Oh really!”

Akram: “Foreigners have a romanticised notion about Indian men. They have a perception of India as the land of finding true love, spirituality and good looking Indian men. The Indian men, like you know, love the attention they get from foreigners. And a Kashmiri guy always knows how to woo a woman. They show a lot of respect and they praise them to death.” He continued after a short pause.

“This happened to a lot of my friends who used to drive foreign tourists around. They used to fall in love with the woman or make them fall in love with them and then marry them in India. The woman used to go back to their country and used to send the men their visa. Some of my friends used to go and then divorce the women, while some men just took the visa, and never returned their phone call.”

Me: “Are you serious?”

Akram: “Yes, you see Kashmiris are not rich people, and the power of the dollar speaks to them. They want to take the easy way out, and what better way than this. And madam, this happens till date! I can easily give you names of ten boys who have got married to firangis. This pattern is mostly seen with the men. Kashmiri women are too protected by their fathers and brothers.”

Me (hesitantly): “So, well did you ever fall in love with one?”

Akram (after a silent pause): “Well yes I did. Two sisters from South Africa had booked a car with my company. I was supposed to be their guide and driver for a period of 15 days and take them around. I fell in love with the younger sister and she fell in love with me. She was tall, intelligent and very beautiful. She came to Kashmir once every year for three years during the summers. We used to spend an amazing time together. I used to call her from the office phone and sometimes write letters to her. And then one day, she called me up to say that she has got married.

Me: “Oh, that’s bad!”

Akram: “Well yes, I wanted to get married to her, not for the money, and I wanted to get her home to my parents. But you know my parents would never agree! She was not of my religion and not even Indian. After a month, I got engaged. And after a year I fell in love with my wife.

Then after a few years I got a call from her (his South African ex-girlfriend). She said that she was divorced and was a mother to a baby girl. I told her that I had got married too and I was a father to two daughters. And we spoke for a while”

Me: “So are you still in touch with her?”

Akram (hesitantly): “Umm, well yes we are but we are just friends. Whenever she comes down to India with her daughter, I meet her. After a long pause… I love my wife now!”

This conversation made me realise that first love, or for that matter love, is all the same everywhere. Lost love and the dynamics of love in Kashmir had its own angle; Kashmir has its own little secret ‘Love’ story.

“Our battered suitcases were piled on the sidewalk again; we had longer ways to go. But no matter, the road is life.”
– Jack Kerouac