Page 24 of A Kiss in Kashmir

Sharmila turned around. “Wait, Taylor Swift is in Kashmir? That doesn’t seem possible. There would be hordes of people here and signs and more if that were happening.”

Alina explained that the hotel was putting on a show to celebrate a new record by the star and a local band would be playing her music in the ballroom with dinner and, of course, dancing.

While Sharmila asked a few more questions about the evening event, George noticed in the rearview mirror that Alina looked out of sorts as she answered her mother, and she kept looking at her phone.

His phone rang and he answered. It was a call from a possible resort for the wedding, and from what Sharmila could tell, he had already finalized the three they wanted to look at.

“You could easily be a wedding planner. This comes naturally to you,” she teased him.

“Me? Ah, poor Mr. Rami—I don’t mean to take away his business. This is just for you. Talking with Alina reminds me of the US, and I have to admit, I miss being there sometimes.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Alina said, looking out into the distance.

George looked over at Sharmila and raised his eyebrows as if to ask,What is wrong?

“Emilio,” mouthed Sharmila.

“Lovers’ tiff?” George mouthed back and Sharmila nodded.

Within minutes, they arrived at a pashmina shop on a large shikara moored on Dal Lake. They made their way onto the bright red boat and were met by the owner, Abdul Shaikh.

“I thought Wajid was joining us today, George?” Alina asked as they entered the main showroom.

“He was, but I think his ankle began to hurt again this morning, so his wife decided that he shouldn’t. I think he wants to stay married, so the decision was obvious,” he said with a wink.

The large room had white floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with colorful shawls. Four salesmen were sitting at various points in front of the shelves.

“Please come in and have a seat. Can we offer you some kahwa? Or coffee?” Mr. Shaikh asked the guests.

Alina answered immediately. “Coffee, please. I’ve tried kahwa and it’s great, but coffeereallysounds good right now.”

Once they were settled, she turned to Mr. Shaikh. “So tell me, what’s the big deal with these shawls? Everyone says they’re so special. Is it all just good marketing?”

Sharmila glared at her. She knew Alina didn’t want to be there right now and had had a fight with Emilio, but this was rude.

“Ah, young lady. That is a wonderful question. My family has been doing this for many years, and it will be my honor to answer it and show you the magic that is pashmina. Come here and let show you something,” Mr. Shaikh signaled to one of the salesmen to bring over a brown shawl, which he took out of its plastic wrapper.

“Now there are two things I am going to tell you. One is a fact, and one is a marketing gimmick. If you can tell me which one is true, I will give you arealpashmina stole, which is very expensive, as a gift. Are you ready?”

“Oh, yes. Nowthisis fun, Ma.” Always up for a challenge, Alina looked interested, and her tone was a lot friendlier.

Mr. Shaikh took the shawl and held it in one hand. In his other hand he held what looked like a wedding ring. He put one corner of the shawl through the ring, then kept pulling it. The large shawl did the impossible—it passed completely through the ring without a hitch.

“So, you saw that. Now, the two statements. First, it is said that pure pashmina is made from the fur from the throat of a special type of goat, the Changthangi. They use the throat fur because it doesn’t get sun and makes for a softer, more delicate, but very sturdy shawl. The second statement is that only pure pashmina can be passed through a ring. Which one is the gimmick? Let me add that a pure pashmina shawl can run up to a thousand dollars. Antique shawls can run to several thousands.”

The three of them began to discuss which could be marketing hype. George confessed he had never bought a pashmina shawl and had no idea.

Alina said, “All right, I think the goat. That’s marketing. I mean, thethroat fur? That’s just weird, and it would take forever to get enough to make one shawl. So I’ll go with the goat.”

Mr. Shaikh smiled. “Actually, it is the ring. I don’t know who came up with that. There are so many people who come and insist on this, so I do it for them. But I know that any good-quality shawl here that may be only half pashmina can pass through the ring.”

The salesmen swung into action and began to show them different colors of shawls in many patterns and weaves. Mr. Shaikh continued his commentary about the value of the shawls and the care that needed to be taken with them.

Alina gave a little gasp and smiled slyly. “What if I want to customize the embroidery on a shawl?”

“Yes, it will take a few weeks, but we can make some minor changes if you like. It will depend on what you have in mind. Now, here is our gift to you, even though you lost the challenge. I am honored that you have humored me.” And with that, Mr. Shaikh gave Alina a grey stole with gentle pink waves woven into the fabric.

“Thank you. This is awesome. Ma, I’d like that red one, but I may have some customizations I want to make.” Alina picked up a deep red shawl with mango-shaped figures along the edges.

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