THE TIES THAT BIND

IN NATIPORA, A TOWN OFTEN SHADOWED BY THE ECHOES OF UNREST, WE FOUND A CONNECTION THAT NEITHER RELIGION NOR POLITICS COULD TOUCH

- NAREN VERMA

I WAS HOME IN JAMMU FOR DIWALI when I decided to take my parents on a holiday.

I first considered Bhaderwah, also known as “Mini Kashmir.” However, after realising that it would entail a 14-hour round-trip by car, I decided to take my parents to the real Kashmir instead. Another reason was that it would be their first time travelling by air.

When I shared my plan, my mother seemed excited and agreeable, while my father pretended to resist, but I could see how badly he wanted to visit Kashmir. Without delay, I booked our tickets.

At the airport, my mother was wide-eyed and overwhelmed, as if she were seeing another world. At the hotel, a four-star property, they were awestruck by the luxurious lobby, courteous staff, and our spacious room. Watching them was pure joy.

That evening, we enjoyed a shikara ride on the Dal Lake and visited a few beautiful gardens. Then, out of nowhere, my father mentioned that he wanted to visit his old friend’s home in Natipora. When my father was stationed in Srinagar with the CRPF in the late 80s, Mohammed Lateef was his dearest friend. They were almost like brothers. When my father was compelled to return to Jammu abruptly during the riots in 1990, they lost touch. But he still remembered Lateef uncle fondly, often narrating stories from their days together.