Page 3 of A Kiss in Kashmir

Mr. Rami pushed a little harder. “Madam ji, I will see what I can find. The hotels are lovely here. You must—” Before he could complete his sentence, Alina piped up.

“Ma, look, look at the lake, Ma—there are white swans. A whole family of them.”

Sharmila turned to look where her daughter was pointing. A gentle calm instantly came over her.

The October morning sun spread its cozy rays over Dal Lake as the mountains beyond embraced the water as if to bless and call it their own. Colorful shikaras, flat-bottomed wooden boats with elegant, curvy designs, filled the lake as tourists poured in, trying to capture some of the magic in their hearts, but mostly on their phone cameras.

Right in the middle of it all, a family of snow-white swans was swimming towards one of the patches of floating garden that naturally grew in the lake. The scene was one that Vikram’s words had imprinted in her memory, his words from over two decades ago,There is nothing in this world like Dal Lake. If you look carefully, you would think that God has played favorites here. Sharmila was glad that Alina had found something to make her smile. She had been hard to deal with the past few weeks, ever since Sharmila suggested she have her wedding in India, and particularly in the last two days since they’d arrived. Alina was not thrilled at the idea of getting married in a country neither she nor her fiancé, Emilio, had ever been to before. Sharmila insisted that Alina at least give it a chance. Alina had agreed on the condition that she would have the final say and that she wanted a wedding in the US as well.

Sharmila took a deep breath. “Mr. Rami, I have paid you to show me the area, some of the monuments, and maybe a heritage hotel that can be good for the wedding, and we really need to do some wedding shopping. I wish you would do just that. I have mentioned that we are flexible with the dates—maybe winter, or an early spring wedding. It will be so unusual, amidst the snow-capped mountains, the chilly breeze, and the magical ambiance.”

“Madam ji, shall I make an appointment with the Chinar Hotel? They will take care of everything. You won’t need to plan anything yourself—henna, sangeet, the wedding.”

“I don’t know how to explain to you that I don’twantthe Chinar Hotel,” Sharmila said yet again.

Alina was back to being irritated. “Ma, I told you we shouldn’t have come. I mean, how can I give anything a chance here when I haven’t seen a single interesting thing? Mr. Rami, I don’t want a hotel in the middle of nowhere. I don’t know anything about this place.” She turned back to her mother. “Ma, I know you want a Kashmiri wedding, but can’t we do it back home in Washington? We could easily find a Kashmiri planner there.”

The spell of the peaceful lake was broken, and Sharmila became visibly frustrated.

“Mr. Rami, how many times did I tell you on the phone that we wanted to tour the valley and see it before we decide what to do and where? I don’t want some random hotel catering, I don’t want a choreographed sangeet in some nondescript ballroom. Why can’t we see options? Why are you insistent on this one single hotel?” Sharmila’s voice rose slightly as she tried to restrain herself.

“But madam ji, I am not a tour guide. I am a wedding planner and I have a plan here, ready for you. I have already done the work. All you have to do is come see the venue and then sign the wedding contract with the hotel.”

“That isnotwhat you said on the phone. You promised me that we could visit the specific sites that I had suggested, and then we could decide what to do. Also, Mr. Rami, I do not see any outdoor options on that list you sent me.” Sharmila reached into her purse and waved a piece of paper in Mr. Rami’s face.

“Madam ji, you will have shivering guests, your bride will be cold in her lovely bridal attire. I cannot recommend anything outdoors. Also, while the historical locales are undoubtedly impressive, hosting a wedding there can be quite challenging due to logistics. I have just the gem for you. But we must—”

Despite being just as disappointed, Alina tried to lighten the mood as she saw her mom getting more agitated. “Oh, come on. If we need to, we’ll provide adorable blankets, fluffy earmuffs for the guests—it’ll be an experience they’ll never forget. Besides, whichever kind of wedding dress I wear, I can always wear thermal leggings underneath. We just want to see options and then we can decide.”

Mr. Rami was adamant, further annoyed, and at this point exasperated by the mother-daughter duo. “Alina ji, this is not funny. I am a serious wedding planner. I will be blamed if the wedding is bad. In all my good conscience, I cannot recommend any outdoor site for even a short while when it is cold out. What will you do for flowers? We may not be able to get what you want. And that isifyour guests can come to Kashmir. I am a simple, old-fashioned man and I’m trying to save you some headaches, but you don’t want to even try to understand my point of view.”

Alina kept her tone soft, trying to help Sharmila make her case. “See, Mr. Rami—this is our first visit to Kashmir. Now, ifyouvisited a place for the first time, wouldn’t you want to see the sights and learn about the culture before just rushing into a cookie-cutter hotel?”

“I am sorry… you want a hotel that has a cookie? Is that like a biscuit? I am sorry, I don’t understand your requests.” Mr. Rami was sweating now even in this cool morning, and used his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his forehead. “I am not sure what you want, madam ji. We are not having cookie hotels here. What is that?”

His pathetic expression and sad voice suddenly made both Alina and Sharmila laugh.

Poor man,Sharmila thought,perhaps I’m expecting too much from him. I wonder what I can do now?

“Excuse me, ma’am?” Mother and daughter both turned around to see two men standing behind them, drinking kahwa, the traditional Kashmiri tea, from a pushcart vendor.

“Please, let us welcome you to our valley,” one of the men said. “Before I say anything more, may I offer you some delicious Kashmiri tea from my friend’s tea cart here? A cup of this magical tea settles a lot.” The man’s smile and gentle demeanor made Sharmila smile, but she hesitated.

Alina said quickly, “Oh, yes please. Ma has been telling me about this tea forever. I guess it was my father’s favorite—this is the one with the rose petals and saffron, right? I researched it and tried to make it. It was, well, a disaster. It tasted more like spicy hot water than tea.” Alina brushed aside her long curls and reached out to shake hands.

“Alina, we don’t know these people,” Sharmila whispered, but then almost instinctively let it go. Alina was outgoing, always had been, and at twenty-six she was a bit too old for lectures about being wary of strangers.

The stranger accepted her hand. “It is nice to meet you. I am Wajid Malik, and this is my brother, George Tomson. Welcome to my home, welcome to the valley.”

Wajid slowly shifted, and as he did, George emerged into Sharmila’s view. Her reaction was immediate. A warm, charming smile spread across her face as she was momentarily taken aback by his good looks. He was dressed in a charcoal-gray wool sweater and well-fitting jeans that had a worn-in look. On his feet, he sported a pair of rugged, brown leather boots. His salt-and-pepper hair peeking out from under a baseball cap and a close-trimmed beard added a distinguished touch. With his blue eyes and pale Caucasian skin, he appeared to be just another Western tourist, albeit a remarkably attractive one, a fact Sharmila couldn’t deny as her gaze lingered on him.

Fortunately, Alina was still being forward. “It’s nice to meet you too, Wajid. I’m Alina Solanki, and this is my mom, Sharmila Solanki. You have a white brother?” Alina had zero filters. Sharmila tugged at her daughter’s shirt to gently chide her.

George smiled and extended his hand. “Hah. Well, he is actually my brother-in-law, but more like a brother.” Sharmila smiled back at him as she took it.He has such a powerful grip, she thought.

“And here is some tea.” Wajid handed tea to the ladies and a very exasperated Mr. Rami, who reluctantly accepted it.

The group stood quietly for a few moments and sipped as they watched the swans swim up close. The chatter of the vendors selling everything from silver jewelry to water lilies to palm reading was growing louder and louder as tourists began to make their way towards the lake. Large families with older parents, children of varying ages, school groups, and more began to swarm the area. It had been years since the valley had seen this many visitors. The new government was doing its best to bring back tourism after years of problems, and it was, by all accounts, succeeding.

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