FEBRUARY 21, 2022 – After three hours on the ever-climbing, twisting, jolting road, our bus stopped at a roadside stand for breakfast. John and I ordered chai and chapati, while the three of us—including Thierry—admired the breath-taking mountain views around us.
We soon learned that the stop had a a more important purpose: allowing salesmen to persuade travelers to sign up for accommodations aboard the houseboats that lined the southwest shore of Dal Lake in Srinagar, our destination. Among these aggressive “salesmen,” and in our faces immediately, was a young Kashmiri with seriously unorganized teeth, who, for our benefit, called himself, “Jimmy.” He spoke with a prominent stutter.
“Excuse me—I have house b-b-b-boat in Srinagar,” said Jimmy. “You like to stay?! I g-g-g-give you room and good meals f-f-for just forty rupees a night.”
Wary of fakes and cheats, I threw him a disapproving look and walked away. John, being a kinder soul, gave “Jimmy” a more receptive ear but was firm in extracting a promise that if we didn’t like the houseboat, we could leave without hassle. Trusting John’s instincts, I caved, and together, we convinced Thierry we should take the deal.
“Jimmy” happily joined us aboard the bus for the descent into the Vale of Kashmir. With the fruit trees in full blossom against the backdrop of the Himalayas, a more scenic ride would be hard to picture.
Upon reaching the bus station in the center of the Kashmiri capital, “Jimmy” led us to the ghat (dock), from which we were ferried aboard a shikara (combination dugout canoe and Venetian gondola) to his houseboat.
The houseboat tradition of Srinagar dates to the 19th century when the Maharaja of Kashmir banned the British from owning land in the region. In 1981—when tourism (almost entirely Indians) was the mainstay of the economy before the region succumbed to political violence—houseboats were the rage. (Today they’ve all but disappeared.) They came in all levels of modesty and luxury, and across the spectrum of possibilities, “Jimmy’s” Ballou Star was clean, spacious, and comfortable. It came with three bedrooms, a small dining room (in which meals were served from an on-shore kitchen), a nice living room, a back “porch,” a sunroof, and . . . a bathroom, equipped with a Western-style toilet but “plumbed” directly into the green waters of Dal Lake. The accommodations otherwise passed our inspection, and we signed up for a week—later extending for another week.
Soon we met “Jimmy’s” younger brother, Manzoor, 15, a student at the local private Catholic School, though he was Muslim. He was already well educated and aspired to become a doctor, with his sights on training in England. During our time on the houseboat, we’d enjoy many meaningful conversations with this promising young man.
As if a clarion had announced our arrival, we were soon surrounded by “shikara men”—merchants hawking every conceivable hand-crafted item a person would want to buy . . . or not buy.
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© 2022 by Eric Nilsson
