Even heaven hath no fury when scorned by Nature. It’s late afternoon and almost four months after the floods wreaked havoc in this ‘paradise on earth’ ( Gar firdaus, ruhe zamin ast, hamin asto, hamin asto, hamin ast ) as described by a Persian poet, when our delayed flight lands at Srinagar airport. As we step out of the aircraft, we cringe and quiver in the bone-chilling cold. Though the lips feel numb, the sight of the imposing Pir Panjal mountain range, leaves us open-mouthed. We hurriedly haul our luggage into a Scorpio, as Hilal, our chauffeur for the next three days, drives us to Vivanta by Taj, at the edge of the beauteous Dal Lake.
As our small group of harried urbanites from the plains makes quick plans to buy some more warm clothes, Hilal smiles and says, “very less cold and not much snow also this time.” “Three degrees is less?” asks the youngest among us. “ Haan bilkul ,” nods Hilal sternly. We allow geography to take a backseat as we pass through long, quiet stretches.
Pheran-clad (long robe)men, carrying a kangri (earthern fire-pots with wickerwork) within it, try to keep themselves warm in the last rays of the setting sun. When Srinagar’s celebrated water bodies turned furious, they swept away desires, dreams and livelihoods. The looming dark grey clouds, the tall chinars with bare branches, the mute snow-drenched peaks and the gentle flapping of the wings of migratory birds all seem to vent pent-up emotions.
“See those white marks,” points out Hilal to a severely damaged two-storey building, “the water was up to that level.” He then quickly adds, “But we are very happy that tourists are back and in good numbers. We derive our strength from visitors. You fill us with hope.” His lyrical Kashmiri-accented Hindi reminds you of the defining Mughal influence in the region with the empire holding sway from the 16th to the early-18th Century. The Army now occupies the fort built by Akbar in the 1500s. But the gardens, overlooking the Dal Lake, built during Mughal times, are a testimony to the badshahs’ deep love for architecture and Nature. Being a non-flowering season, our breathless ascents in the terraced Nishat garden only lead to the shooting spot of Fitoor . And one of the girls screams in excitement ‘it’s Mission Kashmir accomplished; I am going to see Aditya Roy Kapoor’. But alas, we are let down by both the flora and the film star.
After piping hot cups of Kashmir’s famous kahwa (a delicious and comforting concoction of cinnamon, saffron, cardamom and honey), we head to Avantipur, about 27 km from Srinagar. Founded by king Avantivarman, who reigned from 855-883 C.E., the location has ruins of two temples that still bear ornamented walls, columns and sculptured reliefs. A heritage site, it is maintained by the ASI. On our way back, we stop at Pampore, a town known for its saffron fields, to buy small boxes of the aromatic kesar from one of the many shops that line both sides of the road.
Day two, we get into several layers of clothes and mentally prepare ourselves to face the unthinkable minus seven degrees in Gulmarg. It’s a little less than a two-hour drive from Srinagar. As we reach Tangmarg, icy cold winds come as a prelude to the snow showers and sleet in the higher altitudes. The SUV comes to a halt at Gulmarg, but we seem to have frozen in our seats, our limbs refusing to move. Two members of our team slide and fall on the ice when alighting from the vehicle. There are sturdy, tall men with intense eyes standing around as if to greet visitors to the mountains. They come to our rescue. They even run into the tiny shops that rent out snow gear and help us get into gum boots. And we are ready to charge through the powder. When the gondola takes us to the summit, where we get a sweeping view of the great Himalayan peaks kissing the high heavens, we are literally on cloud nine. One of the highest skiing points in the world, it’s a sight to behold — a pristine white blanket dotted with tall green trees and the brown roofs of houses covered in thick ice. Amidst the furious clicking of cameras, a soothing calm descends on oneself. The ride back brings us to terra firma, making it harder to be down on earth.
We have a packed itinerary for Day Three — climbing up the 300 steps to the ancient Shankaracharya Temple; walking through the multi-tiered Pari Mahal, established by Prince Dara Shikoh in the mid-1600s, atop the Zabarwan mountain range; shopping for pashmina shawls and papier-mâché products and, of course, cruising on a shikara. As we are gently ferried by Mohammed to one of the gorgeous wood-panelled houseboats, I get into a bright, voluminous pheran, complete with taranga (headdress) and heavy silver jewellery. And I run my fingers through the freezing waters, humming the evergreen Rafi song ‘Deewana hua badal’ ( Kashmir ki Kali ). It’s hard not to romanticise this heaven.
The writer was in Srinagar on an invitation from MakeMyTrip that offers different holiday packages to Kashmir.
