THE LAKE HOUSE
t’s a crisp June morning, and in one corner of the 24 sq km large Dal Lake, I’m stuck in a traffic jam. I’m in a , surrounded by another 10 . They are modestly piled with bunches of lake-grown spinach, radishes, turnips, green chillies, and lotus stems. A few are selling patchwork cotton bags and kurtas, fresh hot bread, and paper cups full of hot kahwa. It’s 6:00 a.m. and the floating market of Dal Lake is winding down. Someone forgot to pass that
