Terrorism and Jannat are the two words that come to your mind when you think about Kashmir. The magical valleys as I had only seen in photographs and movies were calling me for a while now. It has always been on top of my bucket list. But the constant horror stories of curfews, crackdowns, terrorist attacks, blasts at Lal Chowk, locals undertaking yet another war with the armed forces and my motion sickness with mountains always made it really daunting to travel solo. Kashmir, hands down is one of the most beautiful places in this world, but I was not willing to die to see it. Precisely why my family members were so freaked out about my solo trip.
But the traveller in me wanted to brave it and so this year without thinking too much, I booked a 10-night solo trip to Kashmir – a birthday present to myself. From the time I booked the tickets, and for reasons still unknown to me, I was so much at peace and had zero anxiety or worry. Quite opposed to my nature, I barely did any research about Kashmir. I just knew in my bones that this will be a trip to remember. And oh boy, it surely has been.
Kashmir, in one word, is Kashmiriyat – the culture, people, and their love for all things human. My 10 days of travelling in this picturesque Indian crown have helped me experience it up close and it was nothing short of amazement. While I did keep the journey plan completely open and spontaneous, there were a few bucket list items – Staying on a houseboat and with locals, exploring the new and old parts of town, local delicacies and discovering some charming places. But above all, exploring Srinagar like a local and not as a tourist.
I arrived in Srinagar on a sunny afternoon. As the locals would tell me later, I brought the sunshine with me. The sight of men clad in phirans, the magnificent chinar trees, fresh air and a clear sky made for a comforting welcome.
Ahmed Chacha, the driver, who was dropping me to my first houseboat stay from the airport, was quite taken aback when he learned that I was visiting Kashmir alone. Very politely and with genuine disbelief, he asked me again – why would you come here alone? Don’t you have any friends or family? I think he probably thought I was an orphan with no friends. And for a brief moment, it made me ponder that was I indeed delusional?
As I arrived at the lake shore, the shikara guy greeted me and off I went on his charming boat towards my home for the next 2 nights – a royal houseboat anchored on the banks of Nigeen lake. My view was a serene lake with a backdrop of partial snow-covered peaks, exactly what I had imagined Kashmir to be.
The houseboat was beautifully designed with Kashmiri kaalins (carpets) and wooden ceilings, locally known as Khatambandh (an art of constructing a ceiling by fitting small pieces of wood together in a geometrical pattern, entirely done by hand). The boat looked a little old but still had a regal vibe to it. I had the whole houseboat to myself and it came with a balcony, study room, dining room and bedroom and the roof which doubled up as a terrace. I was excited but a bit scared to stay in the entire houseboat alone and quickly made a mental note to lock every window and gate before sleeping.
Akbar chacha, the caretaker, (who happens to be my dad’s age) warmly greeted me. He did everything on the boat from keeping it clean to making sure my meals were served on time and the constant supply of kawha kettles. A very fit, happy and knowledgeable man who has gone through a lot but was very content to be amidst beautiful views and making travelers feel at home in Kashmir. His smile and energy was infectious and it did not fade even for a single moment.
By the time I freshen up, it was already evening and I didn’t want to stay out late, especially with all the instructions on safety given by my family members. I went for a short stroll and saw the most beautiful toddler pointing to me and saying “aa aa” (Come come). I smiled and rushed toward her. The moment I was near her, she started saying “aa aa” to the cows grazing a little far from her and lost interest in me. Her grandfather who was proudly holding her smiled and said – that’s her fav. pastime. The thought of me being equivalent to a cow and then a car to a toddler amused me. His grandpa started asking me where I’m from. And when I, a bit hesitantly told him that I’ve come here alone and he said these magical words –
Beti, aap befikar hoke yahan ghumo. Ye saare ghar betiyon ke he. Aapko koi pareshan nahi karega. Bilkul chinta mat karo. Kashmir bohot safe he. Ye to bas media ne naam kharab kar rakha he. Acha hua aap akele aaye. Aap bohot enjoy karoge.
And I immediately felt light as a feather. I didn’t realize how scared and nervous I actually was. Shukriya, I thanked him while trying to control the tears in my eyes. Waved both of them goodbye and started walking in the small lanes. Each house is a massive bungalow with big gates and more than ample garden area. People living in the metros would actually call this farmland. Such a luxury. Our tiny 2 bhk apartment felt like a matchbox compared to this.
I have a natural gift of being very bad with directions and this maze of lanes was nothing short of a bhool-bhooliya with almost identical-looking houses and no shops to remember as landmarks. I started clicking pictures with every turn and decided to follow the same route back. So Smart – a rightfully earned pat on the back.
I spent the rest of the evening sitting on the roof of the houseboats, sipping kawha and munching the digestive biscuit pack. It was a little cold, very serene, peaceful and breath-takingly beautiful. I have a hard time sitting in silence for more than a minute but somehow kashmir was making it all so easy and natural.
Akbar chacha comes again to check on me. I asked him to join me for kawha and immediately realized my stupidity. This was the holy ramadan month and he probably like others was on a fast. He politely declined and said due to his health, he in fact wasn’t keeping Roza. He shared a bit about the history of the houseboats in Kashmir, how the media have ruined Srinagar’s name with any and every incident that happens close to the borders etc. I request him for ‘another kettle of kawha’ and inquire about the dinner time. He tells me to watch out for the full moon as it’s Chaudhvin Ka Chand. That’s a real thing? I thought this was a song. “Haha. Nahi, real he. Bohot sundar hota he. Aap dekhna.”
Next day, I woke up at 6.45 am without any alarm. Before I could be proud of myself, I saw that people were returning back from their morning shikara ride or leaving for the day tour. WTF!! 3 am is my sleeping time on most days in Bangalore. But then, I tried my best to cheer myself up and asked chacha to call for an auto. We had to walk a mile to find the auto guy. And oh boy, I was really struggling in just keeping up with his ‘walking’ pace. Damn !!
I booked the auto for the whole day and was all set to explore this magical city of Srinagar. I was a bit disappointed to learn that I missed the iconic “Tulip festival” by a week and that most tulips were dead. The view was still scenic. But the most entertaining aspect was watching herds of tourists, just being mental about clicking the perfect picture with the leftover blooms. They would barge into the wired tulip farms and some even plucked the tulips to pose. And no one, absolutely not even a single human was without the camera or sitting in peace in these gorgeous surroundings. I thought photography was the obsession of teenagers. What the hell is wrong with people my parent’s age?
In an attempt to be away from the madness, I went to the other end of the tulips garden and discovered the beautiful houses built in the middle of the mountain. Imagine the peace living in such a magnificent backdrop. Then I looked at the uphill pathway to reach there. Oh, so every day is a trek. That’s why chachaji is this fit.
Once I stepped out, I spotted a chai tapri which had some amazing cookies (I love love cookies). There was an elderly couple from Kolkata and while munching the amazing cookies and sipping hot chai, I initiated some small talk and tried speaking a little bit of Bengali. The couple was amazed to learn that I’m travelling alone.
Suddenly, a street kid approached me and was trying to sell me a pen. I usually don’t entertain this but his face was very captivating and I couldn’t say no. I asked him his name and the colour of the pen he would recommend for me. After contemplating between green and blue, he finally handed me the blue pen and just when I was about to keep it in my bag, he changed his mind and gave me the green pen. “Green mera favourite he”, he said blushingly. The mother of the kid was watching us with a smile on her face. She blessed me with a lot of dua and said I would pray this pen brings you all the success. It felt so genuine, so real and honestly, I felt human.
To be continued …
Vasudha thank you for writing this..It felt I was like travelling with you..The blog had all elements of an interesting travel journal, with humour and heart warming moments. The Chaudhvi ka chand is something I’ll plan to include in my list whenever I do get a chance to visit Kashmir.
Absolutely enjoyed this read and what stunning pictures! Can only imagine how breath-taking it must be in person. Makes me want to book a trip for myself too
Thanks, Shreya. So glad you liked it. YES, please do visit. It will be a trip to remember for a lifetime.
Thank you Vasudha for taking us through the journey of Kashmir..the photos are really mesmerizing.