Srinagar's Secret

Srinagar’s Secret

Mounting the plane bound for Srinagar in New Delhi I rub shoulders with a regiment of Indian soldiers. Obviously the Capital of the provine of of Jammu and Kashmir is not only famous for its cashmere wool and fine pashmina, its so-called “soft gold”; the region has grave political problems. Srinagar is not only exceptionally beautiful, enclosed by hundreds of snowy mountain peaks, it also regularly stands in flames of conflicting loyalties between the three powerful countries that flank it.

I’m the only Westerner on the flight and the other passengers muster me suspiciously. I do the same with them. Instinctively the female passengers move to the rear of the vehicle, although separation by gender is by no means practiced in India. In Muslim areas, like in Kashmir and Jammu, it’s part of everyday life. Looking around, I see that the bright saris, the golden nose rings, the carmine-red lipped mouths and jangling bracelets are in the minority. Hindu women are decorative, almost doll-like, and most Indian men do not shame from using a dash of colour either. The contrast to the majority of the passengers boarding the plane is sharp after traveling through India for a few days. I’ve entered a different territory even before take-off.   

Women, their heads demurely covered by plain muslin cloth tied back to front with a knot behind the ear to accentuated their heavy, golden creole earrings, fill the seats of the plane, children clinging to their frock tails. Their faces are angular, stark, drawn long. Some Sihk men, strong as oxen, hiding their long

Impressum

Verlag: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Texte: Svenja Bary
Bildmaterialien: Svenja Bary
Übersetzung: Svenja Bary
Tag der Veröffentlichung: 12.10.2016
ISBN: 978-3-7396-7819-1

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For my children.