Early in January, I had to cancel one planned trip to Kashmir. A week later, I wanted to go. Anywhere. Just somewhere. After lots of deliberation about going to Kashmir or Bhutan or going anywhere at all, I finally got myself close to flying to Srinagar. Loaded my iPod with the most beautiful santoor pieces, packed enough woolen. I was super organized this time. Reached airport on time. While in the lounge, checked the display with reasonable periodicity. But something else was planned.
The flight was delayed first. Another announcement delayed it by another hour. Finally canceled 😦 . When I went down to the departure gate, it was a mela of Kashmiris. They were all so pretty. Exactly how I imagined when I would hear Rahul Sharma’s album Sounds of Valley. Long nose. Chiselled faces. An accent that usually pahadi people have. There was no flight seat until 22nd January. My return flight itself was scheduled for 22nd. There. My Kashmir vacation was over before it even started. Only thing Kashmiri I could get access were Kashmiris. They were very kind. They expressed disappointment for me.
Oh well. Another time.