Lazed around in my apartment all day, with no electricity.Since the phones were miraculously working on Republic Day after a long time in Kashmir, most of my fb friends from here, had changed their status to comment on it.
My apartment has no heating, so spending a day in it is an incredibly unpleasant experience. Thankfully, I spent a few hours eating lunch, in Dinesh’s -the landlady’s young help from U.P, quarter.
We- the Sugar man, Dinesh and the neighbourhood caretaker ‘chacha’,hudled around the bukhari, eating rajma chawal and to chacha’s stories about Kashmir, as it snowed outside.I had nightmares off dead bodies, the flood and militants, last night.
Woke up to a lovely message from the Night Rider. ‘Khappu ( because I eat a lot that’s what the boys call me), I miss you.’This time around, everyone has been on tender hooks, since I’ve arrived. The Anonymous Aunty has been checking up regularly, even my Daddy, wants me to come home.
Looks like you’re stuck here!’, called up T, to inform me about the closure of the highway.’Kashmir is a good place to be stuck!, I reply. ‘What’s your plan for the day?’ ,he inquires. ‘Batmaloo or Jama Masjid’, I reply. He makes a plan to accompany me but eventually doesn’t turn up.
So, off I go with the Sugar man. ‘Stay in the car and don’t open the door for anyone!’, I tell him as I step out in Nawhatta. There are too many vardis around.