| Entering Indian-controlled Kashmir
| | Holy smoke, post-colonial aristocracy and dancers with guns
India is a sea of temples. No matter the mean streets or narrow paths, you can see temples of different sizes, exquisiteness and roughness, and some of them are even as big as trash cans, placed at intersections. Devout believers will stop when they pass here, bow down and touch the statue, then tap their eyebrows with their divine hands, and continue on their way.
The famous Australian director Jane Camping's film Holy Smoke attempts to express the confrontation between western ethics and eastern spirituality, and Hinduism represents the latter. In the film, Ruth, the heroine, was "connected" by the saints of the world in India, and her soul immediately got an unprecedented impact.
Whether in Varanasi, the holy place where the Ganges diverts, or Rishikesh upstream, whether in Amisa, the holy place of Sikhism, or Srinagar at the foot of the Himalayas, I vaguely see the existence of "one finger". In the past, how many celebrities insisted on coming to this magical land with different purposes, looking for self-inspiration and instant enlightenment. Larry, the maverick president of ORACLE of the Beatles, has also come to India many times to seek inspiration.
When you walk into India, if you are not careful, the holy smoke will gradually attract your eyes. Varanasi is a holy city on the horizon, a utopia for believers. Walking along the Ganges River at dusk, the ashes of the crematorium have not completely sunk to the bottom of the river, and the girls in bright saris have begun to light wishing lamps by the river. If I didn't notice that there was an enlightened foreigner soaked in the river in front of me, I would feel that I was an outsider who strayed into Peach Blossom Garden, and I was Tang Aogong in Mirror Flower Edge.
If Varanasi shocked me, then Amritsar, the city on the border with Pakistan, really brought me a spiritual wash. In this Sikh shrine, I wrapped my head in an orange cloth and merged barefoot into the nectar pond with the flow of prayers. In the center of the pond is the famous Golden Palace, the most expensive golden palace in the world, made of marble and gold.
Thousands of saints, with happy smiles on their faces, lined up in an orderly manner to draw water from the pond, and then handed it in a hurry to another religious to wash the marble floor. Children shuttle among adults to help, sometimes learn to ski and glide on the wet ground, cleaning the dirt on the ground by the way.
The holy smoke at the foot of the Himalayas is another scene. It was the modern smoke curling up in the dock left behind after the end of the post-colonial era in Europe, and it was the holiday paradise of the former European colonists. Because of the completely different alpine climate, snow-capped mountains and holy lakes and pure religious atmosphere, our carnival hearts can have a rest.
We were lucky enough to stay in the dock of "King Kashmir" run by the director of Srinagar Tourism Association. The design of the three-storey dock completely emulates the lifestyle of 16 th-century Indian British aristocrats, and is also equipped with a personal butler. Enjoy a comfortable dock life like an aristocrat, and it is easy for us to forget the N times of security checks from Zhangmu Airport to Srinagar. However, the literally three-step-one post and five-step-one sentry on the shore remind me that Kashmir is still one of the few most unsafe tourist destinations in the world that have been severely warned not to visit by travel magazines.
Although there are not many western tourists, there are reports of bombings and assassinations in local newspapers almost every other day. Although we are interrogated by sentries every day, we still enjoy the tension and excitement squeezed out by live ammunition.
What's more interesting is that these local soldiers with guns sometimes dance in front of my camera. In my eyes, what these soldiers held in their hands was no different from the cricket bat held by an Indian child. They were all relics left by the colonists when they left. And now, adults and children are playing with it in their hands.
