Lal Kothi

Kasmiri Pundits have a strong tradition of family Gurus. In every extended family there is one such Guru who is their spiritual pillar. At the time of my great grandfather, this person was Janki Nath Aga. Lal Kothi was built by my great grandfather, Jagan Nath Ganju and gifted to Janki Nath. Following this, his sons turned the house into a lodge for the local traders who spent half the year in Pahalgam, selling their wares to visiting tourists. These traders moved back down to their homes in the winter when Pahalgam got too cold.

So it was, that the Red House became Pahalgam's first hotel with about 30 rooms. But after some years Janki Nath's family moved away and left the house to it's seasonal tenants.

Now, some 40 years later, the bottom floor has been taken over by dhobi's who run a laundry service out of the house for the local hotels and restaurants.

The second floor is still home to summer sales men, a plumber and a truck driver.

The third floor belongs to the resident cat in the house, who i met but unfortunately could not photograph.

Hari Singh, the truck driver.

Fazal Ahmed with the clothes he sells.

Salim, the dobhi, my historian.

Pia with her father who sells sweaters and trinkets. She was visiting him on a school break with her mother and grandmother. Originally from Srinagar, their 12 by 12 room was crammed with a stove, pots, pans and suitcases full of things he sells.

Although i don't know the language i could understand that Pia's mother and grandmum were discussing in bewildered hushed tones what on earth i could possibly be interested in, in their cramped make-shift home. Despite this of course they called me their daughter, made me sheer chai (salty Kashmiri tea) and fed me :)

The rear end of the Kothi, now used as the main entrance.

Homecoming

My dad's side of the family is Kashmiri (hence the funny surname). We eat lots of the food at home and drink plenty Kehwa but i've been told that our family left the Valley a few hundred years ago. Much before any unrest.

Since then we moved down to the plains, forgot the language and grew into city people. And me, in Bangalore. Very far and disconnected from where i originally belonged. Now i don't mean to sound all angsty and lost. Truth is i've always been most content with a Banglorean identity.

But on a visit to Pahalgam last year i discovered this ramshackled property that belonged to my great grandfather. It was the last piece of property in Kashmir that my family owned. It was gifted to our family Guru by my great grandfather because no body lived there.

It consists of two buildings. The first, Lal Kothi (Red House) is the main structure, part of which was once swept away in a flood and then rebuilt. Some years later the top floor was burnt in a fire. And for the past four decades the house has been taken over by squatters.

The other building was originally the outhouse, which has now been converted into a funny little hotel called Krishna Cottage, by it's current owners.

This year i went back to Pahalgam and spent some time at Lal Kothi and Krishna Cottage. Apart from being my last claim to Kashmiri citizenship, this place had so many stories to tell.

I met the ancient care-taker at Krishna cottage who said he remembered meeting my great grandfather as a child. Uncovered some of the history of Lal Kothi from Salim, a young dhobi who grew up in the house after it was abandoned by my family. And got to know these people who treated me like their home was also my home, literally.

Maximum City

I spent a month, earlier this year working as the in-house photographer at the blue Frog, Bombay. Needles to say that i had the time of my life. Single girl, in the city that never sleeps, working the night shift at the coolest club in town :) Also because the whole city smelled like fish and there were cats everywhere.

So i got a night of free gigs for a month, some not so hot, one metal O_o and most of the rest AMAZING. Made friends with the bouncers, a bar tender Santosh and Champa bai, the lady who's job it is to sit all night in the loo and help drunk women. Additionally i got the occasional free drink. Wee.

Alive and ready for posting!

Always moving on.

Blood on the dancefloor

In transit

This is an attempt to resurrect my blog :l

I've spent the past couple of months traveling like a madman.

Delhi-around Orissa-Jodhpur-Delhi-Hydrabad-Aurangabad-Bombay-Goa.

And i've done close to nothing about organizing the images and thoughts i've gathered.

But i'm going to start posting anyway (fingers crossed) the above will sort itself out!