Flames OF Paradise - Season 1 - Episode 11

7 years ago

Flames OF Paradise - Season 1 - Episode 11

‘So what do we do now?’ Snigdha asked Nitin.
‘Well… I think I will get in touch with the commissioner of police. We will probably need a bit of extra protection because of the surrendered militants that we have to meet. You never know how the ‘Al Faran’ outfit would react about their oldmates giving us interviews.

And we might have to cancel our camp visit as it could be dangerous. Although we have been allowed to visit incognito just to take some quick shots of one of the training camps bordering the LOC.’ Nitin said chewing his lips.
Snigdha had known that their stint into Kashmir would not be a cakewalk. Especially when the script demanded meeting surrendered militants, victims of terrorists’ atrocities, and innocents harmed because of militant—army antagonism. Aiming to make the film realistic, Snigdha wanted to show ‘real experiences’ of terrorists, their motive to fight this bitter war of freedom through violence, the unfair means of terrorising citizens, the incessant politics between them and the forces. This meant going deeper into the underbelly of violent Kashmir, meeting people, hearing their stories which inevitably might antagonise some groups. Snigdha knew they had to be very careful as filming was a sensitive issue still there.

Arrangements had been made for their lodging on a shikara(houseboat) on Dal Lake. Something which was her demand and had been fulfilled by Nitin, for the entire team, although a hotel might have been a more practical option pointed rudely by Tripti. But they had all agreed that they wanted to experience the real Kashmir. They reached the beautiful, serene lake laden with soft pink lotuses. They could even see floating gardens called ‘Rad’ in Kashmir moving serenely on the lake which was really a novelty for all of them. Snigdha saw a young boy on a narrow shikara laden with huge bunches of lotus and chrysanthymum flowers and bouquets just like the way she had seen in the 60s Hindi film, Kashmir Ki Kali. He must be a florist out to sell flowers in the town. Theshikaras had a musty smell, not very well maintained due to thinning of tourists in the last decade. But Snigdha’s and Dimple’s room was beautiful in spite of the mustiness and overlooked the river behind which were the snow capped Pir Pranjal mountains. The walls of the boat were covered by padded silk wall papers, the wooden panels were shining with fresh polish, the carpets under their feet was thick and fairly new and the dresser was bright green and gold, carved ornately at the corners. The bed was big enough for both of them, with fluffy pillows and fresh blankets.

Before Snigdha could say anything, Dimple flopped on the bed and lay supine, heaving a sigh and muttering sleepily:Sweetheart, can we order room service? I have no strength to go meet the others wherever we are supposed to have dinner.’
‘I think we can order something here. We have a meeting at 9 am in the morning, where we will plan our day’s schedule. Mostly, we will be shooting the landmarks tomorrow.’ Snigdha said, keeping her backpack near the foot of the bed. ‘Let me go and check now’.
‘Shall I wear the peacock blue woollen top and matching slacks tomorrow? I have an amazing blue and fuschia stole to go with it!!’ Dimple offered getting up from bed quickly. At Snigdha’s nod, she promptly got up to unpack her luggage and Snigdha left the room wondering where Dimple’s exhaustion had vanished.

Dimple took her work very seriously in spite of appearing flamboyant and casual to others.

Snigdha liked her no nonsense approach to work. It would be good for her project, she thought smiling to herself.

Nitin was near the main reception where he was filling the register for everyone. After a brief talk with him, Snigdha came to know that he was ordering vegetarian food for everyone, some local fares like rice, rajma, haak which was equivalent of spinach and a local delicacy made out of lotus stems called ‘nadeir yakhein’. Snigdha had no issues with the menu as she was too tired to really relish anything fancy. But she was looking forward to tasting some authentic Kashmiri delights which she had a chance of tasting it once from a Kashmiri classmate at the Film Institute.

Her eyes flew open with the sudden silence being broken by chirping of birds in the still morning air, and a youthful voice singing a dogri song, which she couldn’t fathom as it was coming from far.

Snigdha got up and stretched her arms above her tousled head. Pushing her hands in her hair to put some semblance of order, she got down and walked down towards the draped window.

Pulling the curtain away, she pulled the clasp of the window and opened it to peep outside. The Dal Lake had an early morning shimmer, with the sun rising behind the snow-capped peaks, and the golden light rippling on the nearly still waters.

The mist was hanging like a cloak on the far ends of the river, making the town hazy and distant.

Snigdha breathed the fresh fragrance of morning air inside her nostrils, fraught with the scent of flowers, weedy water mingled with smoke coming out of huts and houseboats and closed her eyes to the cool morning breeze stirring her hair, and seeping a little inside the room. Snigdha wrapped her arms around her midriff, feeling a little cold in spite of her neck to ankle burgundy coloured soft wool gown. The singing had faded and in its place, she could hear the splashing ‘chhup chhup’ sound of a boat being rowed, as if it was coming closer. She slowly opened her eyes, not knowing how long she stood like that, but felt as if she was not alone. She looked down straight into a pair of velvet brown eyes, quite close to her window.

Startled, Snigdha’s heart missed a beat. It seemed as if time had stopped, and all sounds receded in the background. Her eyes focussed on the man, who was tall, well built, sitting with both his hands on the oars on the left and right side of the boat, his eyes transfixed on her, his face half covered by a blue and grey check headgear, that was wrapped like a veil. From the grey cover, she could see his aquiline nose, and smooth clean shaven skin. His eyes appeared dark and brooding from the distance. He was wearing a dark blue Phiran over what seemed like