It’s one of those ‘must travel’ roads. The legendary Mughal Road in Kashmir had been at the back of my mind ever since it was opened to traffic a few years ago. But it wasn’t until the summer of 2013 that I decided to ride solo through the Mughal Road to Turtuk in Ladakh.
After two and a half days of riding from Delhi through a blistering heat wave, I reached Rajouri, the nearest place from where the Mughal Road can be accessed. The next morning, I set off for Srinagar. After more than two hours of riding through picturesque countryside, climbing uphill to cross a small town called Thanamandi and then downhill through a dense forest, I reached Bafliaz where a signboard announced the beginning of the Mughal Road. Srinagar was 135 km away.
I stopped briefly for refreshments and chatted up a young shopkeeper named Wahid Khan. I asked him about the benefits of the Mughal Road. “It has reduced the time of travelling from Bafliaz, Rajouri and Poonch to Srinagar from two days to a few hours,” Wahid replied. Whether it is inter-state business, the need for medical help or anything else, the Kashmir valley is now much closer than it had ever been in history. Behind Wahid’s shop, the Suran river roared through.
It was time for me to resume my journey. Wahid told me that the best part of my trip was about to start. “You will never forget this journey,” he said with a finality that would not brook another opinion.
I crossed a bridge across the Suran river and the Mughal Road began to climb. Almost immediately the scenery turned breathtaking. History was littered on the road. And combined with the beauty of the Pir Panjal mountains, the ride turned into a heady one instantly. I found it difficult to decide where to stop to take photographs because every bend unveiled a scene seemingly more beautiful than the previous one. The mountains were covered with thick pine forests. And down in the valley, the Suran river muscled its way furiously.
The road was a joy to ride on and there was very little traffic. I was glad I took this road instead of the busy Jammu-Srinagar highway. A signboard appeared on the edge of the road proclaiming ‘Noor e Chamb Viewpoint’ in Surankote. Much below the road, accessible only by an old trek, was an impressive waterfall. Noor e Chamb, named by Mughal Emperor Jahangir after his queen Noor Jahan was a heavenly sight. A continuous spray of water caused a minor veil around the base of the waterfall. Noor Jahan is said to have stayed here to relax and bathe on her way to Kashmir.
As I rode on, I saw the remnants of a few derelict brick and mortar structures below the highway. I presumed they must have served as pit stops for the Mughal convoys. I crossed a few shepherds on the way. Most of them had sheep, goats and guard dogs. A few kilometres uphill was another spectacular viewpoint. There were a few benches in a small park for tired motorists to stretch their limbs. I stopped briefly to enjoy the view.
Standing on the edge of the road, I could see a village much below. There was some terrace cultivation on the mountain slopes to grow some vegetables. I could only imagine what a tough life those villagers lead and how difficult it gets in the winter when the snow covers everything and increases the risk of devastating avalanches.
I ran into more shepherds along the way. “Where are you going?” I asked one of them. “To graze the flock near Pir ki Gali. And then we will go to Shopian in Kashmir valley to sell our milk products.” Like the others of his kind, this shepherd and his family were travelling from a village in Rajouri district. The man was plying a trade that has run for generations along the Mughal Road. He told me that conditions were now much better for his annual migrations to Kashmir valley than they had been when his grandfather and great grandfather ran the business. In those days, there were no bridges across the Suran or other streams and many animals used to be swept away while crossing.
The landscape began to change. The pine forests gave way to meadows. The wind turned chilly. A few families were having picnic lunches near various streams. After a few uphill turns, Pir Ki Gali appeared as a stunning picture postcard. Snowy mountains on one side of the road and green pastures on the other side as far the eye could see. I thought of Emperor Jahangir’s famous quote: “If there is paradise on earth, it is this, it is this, it is this.” He is believed to have said this where Shalimar Bagh now stands in Srinagar. But who knows, he might have said it in Pir Ki Gali.
A shrine dedicated to a local saint Baba Sheikh Karim who is buried there and after whom the place is named, is the only construction at the place. At 11,300 ft Pir Ki Gali is the highest point on the Mughal Road. In the local language, gali means a pass. A thick blanket of snow on the mountains made it like a fabulous ski slope.
Pir Ki Gali has an inexplicable charm that makes you wish you could stay longer. Reluctantly, I resumed my journey. The road was mostly downhill from Pir Ki Gali. Snowy mountains, streams and high-altitude pastures continued to thrill me. And then I ran into a major landslide. An earthmover was clearing the road. There was a queue of vehicles on either side of the landslide.
I walked to the edge of the road and looked down. In the valley below, were the ruins of the Aliabad ‘sarai’ or inn built for Mughal convoys to rest. A mountain rose from the rear of the sarai and a snowy slope formed a surreal backdrop for the ruins. Sheep and goats were feasting on the rich pasture around the sarai. Another motorist told me that a few shepherds now make the sarai their base to graze their flocks. They use an old trek to reach the sarai.
Once upon a time the Aliabad sarai must have been a major stop for the Mughal convoys. I tried to imagine what it would have been like in the days of yore when the convoys rolled through. Other than the living quarters for merchants and soldiers, there would have been a stable for horses and an enclosure for elephants. The aroma of Mughal cuisine would have wafted for miles through the mountains and at night, armed sentries would have kept watch. The dome of the sarai is missing and there are other signs of vandalism. Depressingly, there seems to be no governmental effort to repair the massive structure.
The road continued to be a dream to ride on when I resumed my journey. As the altitude decreased, pine trees began to reappear. At another picturesque place called Dubjan, the army stopped the traffic for an hour because a live fire exercise was on. It seemed ironical that such an exercise should be on in so beautiful a place.
Shopian was less than 30 km away so I rode leisurely when the soldiers let the traffic roll. The scenery remained as breathtaking as ever with beautiful wooden houses dotting the landscape near. On the face of it, it was difficult to imagine that Shopian was once a hotbed of militancy.
The Mughal Road ended just ahead of Shopian. It had taken me eight hours to travel 139 kms from Rajouri. But it was worth every second.
