14 April 2008. Dal Lake.
There is a rustic beauty here.
A exquisitely dilapidated Venice of sorts. Little floating houses. ‘Quaint’, ‘rustic’ are words that come to mind. Acient and sad too. Like a beautiful, old woman. Like a beautiful old woman bemoaning the rags she has to wear over her beauty. Kashmir is worthy of the hype. Shikaras slice across the magnificent Dal lake against a backdrop of misty mountains. Ents and hobbits quickly come to mind. Surely Tolkien must have visited Kashmir. Galadriel’s forest is here. Here. The silence of the looming mountains is deafening.
A novel can be written here. A novel will start here.
