Path To Atonement
Chapter Six
Hello, Rick. It’s Steve. I’ll be about a week late getting back to San Diego.”
“What’s up?”
“I’m calling from Gulmarg, which is a ski resort in the Himalayas, 30 miles west of Srinigar, Kashmir.”
“How in the hell did you end up there? You were supposed to be surfing in Dar es Salaam.”
“I did for a few days. While in the neighborhood, I thought I would follow up on my father’s old ski stories about Gulmarg. He told me in the early 80s that he took a three-mile horse ride up a snowy path to a funky ski resort at 9,500 feet. The ski rental shop was a mile from the one, decrepit chair lift that took skiers only 600 yards up the slope. He chose to walk the mile over the snow-covered golf course, carrying his boots and skis while Indian tourists were being towed on sleds by porters. Dad was the only skier that afternoon. He told me it was excellent—packed powder.”
“So, you mean to tell me that you flew all the way to India to ski on an old chairlift?”
“Stay up with the times. Gulmarg is now a rocking resort with a gondola, high-speed chairs and helo-skiing. I’m talking to you from a hot tub, looking out at 13,000-foot peaks. The copter dropped me near the top of one of the peaks—I boarded down two-feet deep powder. It was so sweet.”
“Okay. I get it. You’re sure you’ll be back in a week? We’ve business to go over.”
“I’m doing business here. I plan to check in with Daxa and our hotel in Delhi. Talk to you later. Karin is bringing drinks.”
Rick thought, Karin is probably another gorgeous blonde. Sometimes, it’s nice to be single.
Karin and Steve decided to rent a houseboat on Lake Dal for a couple of days after thrashing the slopes. Faruk, their houseman, paddled them out on their private water-taxi canoe to the Khyber, anchored offshore among a row of similar houseboats. Faruk stoked the wood-burning Franklin stoves in the seating area, the master bedroom and the dining room. Steve felt he had walked into an 1890’s western bordello. The sitting room had large, red and gold chairs and a matching upholstered couch. Ornate vases and lamps adorned several tables. Floor to ceiling red and gold drapes hung over the windows. The non-draped walls were a dark wood. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Faruk brought them afternoon tea and scones with jam. He then took their dinner order of leg of lamb, potatoes and fresh vegetables. The dinner was delicious, especially the cinnamon-coated baked apples for dessert.
Steve and Karin were awakened at 6:30 by Faruk’s assistant— his daughter, Anjana—restarting the wood stove in the bedroom so they would be warm when they got up.
Anjana was beautiful. Her phiran over her lighter material pooch could not hide her beauty. The loose fitting, neck-to-toe garments hid her figure, but not her high cheek-boned, light-brown face and startling blue eyes.
Anjana served them breakfast and politely answered their questions in excellent English. When Karin asked her about her English, Anjana said, “Most of my family works in the tourist industry in Srinigar and its beautiful Lake Dal. Almost all the tourists speak English. So, we do as well.”
Steve said, “It seems quiet around here. I don’t see many tourists.”
“It’s slow right now. The tourist season doesn’t start until May, when the weather warms up.”
Later in the day, Faruk and Anjana took them for a boat tour of the lake. They went along a few channels, which were lined with shops. The front of the shops was on stilts above the water. One could tie up to the stilts and walk up a few stairs to the level of the shops. Steve found a tailor who fitted him for a brown, wool sports coat. The tailor promised it would be ready the next day.
Steve could assume a personality that people felt comfortable talking to. He could be relaxed, smiling and non-judgmental. He got Faruk and the shyer Anjana to talk about their lives. The Muslim family was facing hard times. The year before, the Hindu-dominated Indian government had revoked Kashmir’s semi-autonomous status. Kashmir had had the special status as a political “bone” from India because Kashmir had a predominant Muslim population, and Muslim-dominated Pakistan disputed portions of Kashmir’s territory. After the revocation of Kashmir’s special status, the Hindu minority in Kashmir seized more political control, and certain Muslims were ousted from their well-paying jobs, including Faruk.
India’s military had flooded into Kashmir to support the new order.
Steve said, “It must be very hard on your family.”
Tears welled up in Anjana’s eyes. “My older brother was killed earlier this year in a fight between his brother separatists and India’s military.” Faruk took her into his arms and softly murmured in her ear.
The next morning after breakfast, Faruk came into the living room area to announce that there was a vendor outside that Steve might want to talk to. Steve walked out to the front deck of the houseboat and saw a wooden canoe laden with rugs and an elderly man wearing a knit hat and a non-descript gray wool phiran. Steve saw a brightly colored rug that he liked. He beckoned the man to come up the steps and bring the rug. Steve examined the rug closely, looking at its back. He saw that the material was tightly knotted.
Steve asked, “How many knots to the square inch?”
The vendor replied, “Four hundred knots. The rug is silk. It’s called the sunburst pattern.”
It did look like a psychedelic sunburst—red, purple, pink and lavender colors emanating from the center of the four-foot by sixfoot rug. Steve wanted it.
“How much in dollars?”
“I’ll give you a real bargain because business is slow during the off season. For you, $2,000.”
“Two thousand is too much for me. I like the rug. But I only have $1,000 in traveler’s checks to spend on it.”
“Sir, that is way too little. It took me and a helper six months to make it. We need to feed our families.”
“Sorry. I’d buy it for $1,000.”
“How about $1,500?”
“No. This is our last day. I shouldn’t be spending the money anyway.”
The vendor looked up at Steve with pleading eyes. Steve shook his head. The vendor walked down the steps to his boat with the rug. He paddled away.
Faruk and Anjana took Steve and Karin to the tailor in the late morning. Steve had to pick up the sports coat before taking an afternoon flight to Delhi and then the States. Karin would go with him to Delhi and then fly to Sweden.
On their way back to the houseboat, Steve said, “I have an old friend, Daxa Bandari, who helps young people go to the States to work as nannies for a couple of years. She arranges the work visas. They get a chance to earn money and go to school. If you’re interested, I can have her come out in a couple of weeks and talk to you about it. She could stay on the Khyber.”
Anjana gave her father an imploring look. “I know you have always dreamed of going to the United States. If you want to go, your mother and I won’t stand in your way. It might be safer for you to leave Kashmir for a while with all the political turmoil.”
Anjana broke into a broad smile. Her blue eyes glistened. She said, “Thank you,” and gave her father a hug.
“I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll make the arrangements. If you have a few girlfriends who would like to be nannies in the States, they can also meet with Madam Bandari.”
“I have one girlfriend, Chandri, who is 17 like me, who may be interested. We always talk about going to America, and her family also needs the money.”
As Steve and Karin packed to leave for the airport, Faruk told Steve that the rug merchant was back. Steve smiled and grabbed his traveler’s check. He went outside and paid $1,000 for the rug.
At the Delhi airport, Steve called Daxa. She was able to come to Srinigar. Steve told her to break in the new girls at the Delhi hotel. They wanted to use them on the San Diego side of the border. It was not feasible to break in the girls at the motel they would stay at in San Diego. His last instruction was to transport the girls
via the route through Thailand, Laos and Vietnam.
Path To Atonement
Chapter Six
Hello, Rick. It’s Steve. I’ll be about a week late getting back to San Diego.”
“What’s up?”
“I’m calling from Gulmarg, which is a ski resort in the Himalayas, 30 miles west of Srinigar, Kashmir.”
“How in the hell did you end up there? You were supposed to be surfing in Dar es Salaam.”
“I did for a few days. While in the neighborhood, I thought I would follow up on my father’s old ski stories about Gulmarg. He told me in the early 80s that he took a three-mile horse ride up a snowy path to a funky ski resort at 9,500 feet. The ski rental shop was a mile from the one, decrepit chair lift that took skiers only 600 yards up the slope. He chose to walk the mile over the snow-covered golf course, carrying his boots and skis while Indian tourists were being towed on sleds by porters. Dad was the only skier that afternoon. He told me it was excellent—packed powder.”
“So, you mean to tell me that you flew all the way to India to ski on an old chairlift?”
“Stay up with the times. Gulmarg is now a rocking resort with a gondola, high-speed chairs and helo-skiing. I’m talking to you from a hot tub, looking out at 13,000-foot peaks. The copter dropped me near the top of one of the peaks—I boarded down two-feet deep powder. It was so sweet.”
“Okay. I get it. You’re sure you’ll be back in a week? We’ve business to go over.”
“I’m doing business here. I plan to check in with Daxa and our hotel in Delhi. Talk to you later. Karin is bringing drinks.”
Rick thought, Karin is probably another gorgeous blonde. Sometimes, it’s nice to be single.
Karin and Steve decided to rent a houseboat on Lake Dal for a couple of days after thrashing the slopes. Faruk, their houseman, paddled them out on their private water-taxi canoe to the Khyber, anchored offshore among a row of similar houseboats. Faruk stoked the wood-burning Franklin stoves in the seating area, the master bedroom and the dining room. Steve felt he had walked into an 1890’s western bordello. The sitting room had large, red and gold chairs and a matching upholstered couch. Ornate vases and lamps adorned several tables. Floor to ceiling red and gold drapes hung over the windows. The non-draped walls were a dark wood. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Faruk brought them afternoon tea and scones with jam. He then took their dinner order of leg of lamb, potatoes and fresh vegetables. The dinner was delicious, especially the cinnamon-coated baked apples for dessert.
Steve and Karin were awakened at 6:30 by Faruk’s assistant— his daughter, Anjana—restarting the wood stove in the bedroom so they would be warm when they got up.
Anjana was beautiful. Her phiran over her lighter material pooch could not hide her beauty. The loose fitting, neck-to-toe garments hid her figure, but not her high cheek-boned, light-brown face and startling blue eyes.
Anjana served them breakfast and politely answered their questions in excellent English. When Karin asked her about her English, Anjana said, “Most of my family works in the tourist industry in Srinigar and its beautiful Lake Dal. Almost all the tourists speak English. So, we do as well.”
Steve said, “It seems quiet around here. I don’t see many tourists.”
“It’s slow right now. The tourist season doesn’t start until May, when the weather warms up.”
Later in the day, Faruk and Anjana took them for a boat tour of the lake. They went along a few channels, which were lined with shops. The front of the shops was on stilts above the water. One could tie up to the stilts and walk up a few stairs to the level of the shops. Steve found a tailor who fitted him for a brown, wool sports coat. The tailor promised it would be ready the next day.
Steve could assume a personality that people felt comfortable talking to. He could be relaxed, smiling and non-judgmental. He got Faruk and the shyer Anjana to talk about their lives. The Muslim family was facing hard times. The year before, the Hindu-dominated Indian government had revoked Kashmir’s semi-autonomous status. Kashmir had had the special status as a political “bone” from India because Kashmir had a predominant Muslim population, and Muslim-dominated Pakistan disputed portions of Kashmir’s territory. After the revocation of Kashmir’s special status, the Hindu minority in Kashmir seized more political control, and certain Muslims were ousted from their well-paying jobs, including Faruk.
India’s military had flooded into Kashmir to support the new order.
Steve said, “It must be very hard on your family.”
Tears welled up in Anjana’s eyes. “My older brother was killed earlier this year in a fight between his brother separatists and India’s military.” Faruk took her into his arms and softly murmured in her ear.
The next morning after breakfast, Faruk came into the living room area to announce that there was a vendor outside that Steve might want to talk to. Steve walked out to the front deck of the houseboat and saw a wooden canoe laden with rugs and an elderly man wearing a knit hat and a non-descript gray wool phiran. Steve saw a brightly colored rug that he liked. He beckoned the man to come up the steps and bring the rug. Steve examined the rug closely, looking at its back. He saw that the material was tightly knotted.
Steve asked, “How many knots to the square inch?”
The vendor replied, “Four hundred knots. The rug is silk. It’s called the sunburst pattern.”
It did look like a psychedelic sunburst—red, purple, pink and lavender colors emanating from the center of the four-foot by sixfoot rug. Steve wanted it.
“How much in dollars?”
“I’ll give you a real bargain because business is slow during the off season. For you, $2,000.”
“Two thousand is too much for me. I like the rug. But I only have $1,000 in traveler’s checks to spend on it.”
“Sir, that is way too little. It took me and a helper six months to make it. We need to feed our families.”
“Sorry. I’d buy it for $1,000.”
“How about $1,500?”
“No. This is our last day. I shouldn’t be spending the money anyway.”
The vendor looked up at Steve with pleading eyes. Steve shook his head. The vendor walked down the steps to his boat with the rug. He paddled away.
Faruk and Anjana took Steve and Karin to the tailor in the late morning. Steve had to pick up the sports coat before taking an afternoon flight to Delhi and then the States. Karin would go with him to Delhi and then fly to Sweden.
On their way back to the houseboat, Steve said, “I have an old friend, Daxa Bandari, who helps young people go to the States to work as nannies for a couple of years. She arranges the work visas. They get a chance to earn money and go to school. If you’re interested, I can have her come out in a couple of weeks and talk to you about it. She could stay on the Khyber.”
Anjana gave her father an imploring look. “I know you have always dreamed of going to the United States. If you want to go, your mother and I won’t stand in your way. It might be safer for you to leave Kashmir for a while with all the political turmoil.”
Anjana broke into a broad smile. Her blue eyes glistened. She said, “Thank you,” and gave her father a hug.
“I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll make the arrangements. If you have a few girlfriends who would like to be nannies in the States, they can also meet with Madam Bandari.”
“I have one girlfriend, Chandri, who is 17 like me, who may be interested. We always talk about going to America, and her family also needs the money.”
As Steve and Karin packed to leave for the airport, Faruk told Steve that the rug merchant was back. Steve smiled and grabbed his traveler’s check. He went outside and paid $1,000 for the rug.
At the Delhi airport, Steve called Daxa. She was able to come to Srinigar. Steve told her to break in the new girls at the Delhi hotel. They wanted to use them on the San Diego side of the border. It was not feasible to break in the girls at the motel they would stay at in San Diego. His last instruction was to transport the girls
via the route through Thailand, Laos and Vietnam.