Kashmir and Delhi: Summer of 2015-II

Late afternoon; nun chai, pampori Shirmaal and Kulche.

Two decades back, I would refuse to call it home. Home for me meant Khanyar. No other place could replace it. And now, with all memories that I look back through this house- of my grandfather and grandmother, this is home. No other place like. We humans are entwined.

The rabab player and folk singer Noor Mohammad.

Zohan, my naughty nephew.

The Quencha tent I brought for Za and our Kidney parties in the garden. The duo of Mamu and nephew love our fried lamb kidneys.

A rose plucked from my garden and Hemingway.

Akhter and pakora chai at Peer Zoo restaurant.

Beautiful sunsets at Peer Zoo. Though the quality of tea and eateries is a let down, but views such as this recompense. 

The corridors of what we used to call Nov makaan (new house). My Mamu's house.

The plush galleries of Nov Makaan and the Khatamband.

My ancestral house. Built by Khwaja Siddiq Gundroo in early 19th century. 

The downtown boys- with Khalid near 14th Avenue, Rajbagh.

The batte gully- Food street, Lal chowk.

Nadir monje from Sonwar and liptop chai.

Selfie.

The historic bund. High school drama.

The erstwhile Grindlays Bank.

Old friends from school.

An old architectural marvel in downtown Srinagar.

The shrine of Shah-i-Hamdaan.

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A man praying near Hujre khaas. The place where Amir Kabir used to meditate.

Zum Zum in the brass container.

Hujre-khaas. Notice the delicate paper machie on walls.

The baroque wood work one of the old city structures.

Laborers Gafoor and Rafiq from Shupiyan, outside Dastgir Sahib shrine.

Insanely mouth watery stuff- the quintessential Masal Tzot. 

Our ancentral graveyard. The oldest grave belonging to my great great great great Grandfather- Khwaja Siddiq Gundroo, who died in 1818.

Badam waer, with Za and Shabana my sister.

Kaeth Darwaz, built around the Hari Parbat fort in Akbar's time.

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Near Sumbal.

Akki in his salt and pepper avatar.

The road winding through paddy fields. On way to Tull Mul, Ganderbal.

The many green tunnels that you drive through.

Tul Mull spring.

The silent Buddha or the pretending Buddha?

Yeh kahan agaye hum.

You are the man. 

Do yaar. Puraane yaar.

What captivates me about Shalimar is its voyeuristic air. It is believed emperor Jehangir made love to his queen in the open pandalans. 

Trying to do a SRK, Veer Zaara. Mai yahan hon yahan.

Master Goor, Barbershah.

Matoo House, Barber shah.

The the shikara ride. While in Kashmir can I miss it. 

With Mohsin. A friendship that goes back 26 years.

Tujje. Mutton barbecue.

That is Peter the shikar walla (in white sun hat). Blind in his eyes by 90% he rows the boat remarkably with exact precision. Kashmir a place in the midst of a sad melancholy, characters like Peter keep the humor alive, no matter what the circumstances.

Khushwant Singh at Delhi airport.

A picture of old times. Of happier times. They shall return by the Vitasta, where we wait.

The mighty chinars lined up near Jhelum, visible from the overpass that connects Sumbal with Ganderbal. They find a mention in Ward Deny's Our Summer in the vale of Kashmir.