Astonishing Surprises

To scratch beneath the surface of Kashmir is to reveal astonishing surprises. It is like a fragrant garden of many colors, where nightingales sing and pure mountain wind blows—where one can easily fall under a spell and lose his mind to beauty.
It has been only two weeks, but I now have steadfast friends in Kashmir. We have trekked, rode horses, and visited villages together in the Himalayan Mountains, attended weddings with lavish feasting and singing, taken boat rides and negotiated city traffic in rickshaws. I went to a big feast where six cooks began a day in advance and prepared the food outside in big kettles over burning logs. In Muslim societies, men and women are segregated and mostly stay separate in public. Sitting crosslegged with other men on a carpet laid on the ground under a big tent, we were served delicious Kashmiri food. I was politely given a fork, knife and spoon, but broke through my cultural reticence and ate like the others—balling my rice and lamb, saucy vegetables and sticky treats together and then shoveling the handful into my mouth with a flick of my thumb. It is messier than eating with utensils, but I enjoyed the experience.

It is astonishing the high quality of handcrafts here and I have done something new: borrowed against my savings and bought a considerable amount of goods as investment for resale. Some of the special items are silk on silk rugs that took six weavers three years to make, ornately carved walnut boxes that can only be opened with a secret twist, mesmerizing jewelry in gold, silver, diamonds, rubies, sapphires, pearls, emeralds and more, pure cashmere sweaters and handmade shawls with intricate needlework, and coats of sheepskin and lambs wool with embroidery. All this, and I don’t have a home of my own—I am sending it all to my assistant in Santa Fe. I will not see any of it for at least another three months. It has felt good because many families here are benefiting from the money going into the economy, and I am able to share these remarkable goods with people who are not accustomed to seeing such fineness.
I leave Kashmir tomorrow and go to Agra, where the Taj Majal awaits my eyes. It is with some regret I leave, and others too have expressed remorse. For certain I will return, and when I do, friends will be waiting.

My Astonished Eyes

I arrived in India with only vague ideas about what to do and how long I would stay. In less than 48 hours, THE DREAM whisked me away from New Delhi on a magic carpet ride and set me down on a big houseboat that I have all to myself on a pristine lake at the foot of the Himalayan mountains in Kashmir. Furthermore, I have my own personal servant, Mansoor, who prepares my meals, takes care of my room, escorts me everywhere and even puts a hot water bottle in my bed at night before I retire. I did not plan any of this . . . it just arrived with THE DREAM.
The population in these parts is 90% Muslim, so I hear the call to prayer five times a day. The people are upright and proud, very sturdy and live close to the earth. Religion is central to their life and they get up at 5:30 AM with the first call to prayer. Most of them have had little schooling and the government does not do much to help.


People shuttle around in canoes, rowing themselves wherever they want to go. They either crouch at the tip and pull themselves along, or row from the back. I have not seen a single motorboat. Various vendors come by in their boats, including Mr. Wonderful the Flowerman. He glides around with his boatfull of colorful flowers he has grown. I bought a bunch of dahlias and zinnias from him, and also bought a variety of seeds from gorgeous Kashmir plants. Sometimes, when I am on the lake, amid water lilies and lotus plants, with the majestic mountains all around, the air pure, quiet, and peaceful, I feel bliss, and wonder, am I in heaven?
Srinagar is the city close by. To get into town, I must board a dinghy and be rowed (about ten minutes) to a landing where I can catch a waiting taxi. All my costs are included in the package, so I do not need my wallet, but simply enjoy the ride. I am living for less than it cost me in Europe.
Everyone treats me well, and often I am asked, “Are you happy?” There is a small community around the houseboats and I am already part of a circle and continually invited places. I will go to a wedding soon, and tomorrow I have been invited to lunch with a family and to go for a drive. Traditionally, weddings are held in the fall and they are big events with lavish food, music, dancing and many hundreds of people.
There are four seasons, and it is chilly at night and then warms during the day. The local language is Kashmiri, but people usually know a little English. My landlord knows English very well and we have good conversations. My servant Mansoor never went to school but knows at least four languages—all learned from tourists. His wife just had a baby, their second child.
Kashmir is offering me so much, the days are flashing by, so I am staying two weeks instead of one. Certainly, THE DREAM will surprise me again, so I keep my thoughts from straying too far away from the present, and simply trust what is ahead will be unfolded before my astonished eyes.