A Slow Day in Srinagar, Kahsmir

Kashmir turned into a green wonderland in the monsoons. The smell of grass smeared in rain from the beautiful wild gardens beside my homestay in Srinagar filled the morning air. It had rained incessantly the entire night.

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I was in Srinagar for a solo trek in the western grasslands of Kashmir called the Kashmir Great Lakes trek. I had visited Kashmir as a tourist a few years back. But this time it was different. I was backpacking in the valley without a strict itinerary. I was spending a buffer day at Srinagar for a bit of acclimatization before the trek.

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Srinagar, the capital city of Jammu & Kashmir, is situated at an elevation of 5200 ft above sea level and is known for its Dal Lake and the beautiful mountains around the lake. I wanted to explore the heart of Srinagar this time - the local markets, city life, local food and the culture. As it was just a day prior to the long trek I decided to keep it slow and relaxed.

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A slow morning at Srinagar

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I got up from my bed late in the morning after a tiring night. I had retired early to get a good night’s sleep. As I pushed my blanket away and prepared to get up the fragrance of the wet grass caught my attention. I realised it was still drizzling outside. There was already a heavy downpour the night before. I put on my spectacles, in my night pyjamas, and walked up to the balcony door. As I pulled the door open the beautiful sceneries of lush green mountains ahead caught my eye. The clouds hovered around the mountain top. The balcony was huge with no roof-cover. I stepped on to the cemented wet floor and walked towards the railings.

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I had arrived late in the night the day before and gone to bed straight away. It was dark and hence I couldn’t see much around. But this morning was special. I was on my own. No rules to follow or deadlines to commit to. There was not a care in the world. I savoured the fragrant air as I took a long deep breath in, closed my eyes and breathed out with a sigh of contentment. And as I rejoiced at my newfound freedom a few rain drops caressed my cheeks. I opened my eyes and glanced at the surroundings.

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Our homestay stood in a small narrow alley by the side of the Dal lake. The view of the lake was hidden by the adjoining houses. As this was a less commercialised location behind the Dal lake the locality was quite peaceful. The alley opened on a road by the banks of the lake. The junction of the alley and the road had a small little house where the entire locality would gather during the times of Islamic prayers. I stood there watching everything that was going around with great attention.

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It was a Saturday and the small children in their traditional Kashmiri kurtas had gathered around our homestay. They were all enjoying the drizzle, carefree. A few stray dogs joined the gang till an old lady, apparently the grandmother of one of the kids, intruded into their revelry. The kids dispersed quite dejected at the untimely end of the fun on a relaxed weekend afternoon.

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My eyes fell upon the green mountains ahead of me. They weren’t elevated but looked quite majestic. The mountains were lush green and verdant. The green hues in the background were enhanced by the rains and the gloomy skies in the background. The clouds had settled over the top of the hills like a canopy and revealed parts of the greenery.

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“Here Sir, a cup of Kahwa for you”, said Lateef bhaiya, my homestay owner. “I will also give you a chair so that you can sit and enjoy the views”. I couldn’t be more grateful to him.

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Lateef bhaiya was a stout middle aged gentleman. He ran the homestay with his family. His family would reside on the ground floor whereas the first floor was used for tourism. The homestay had a typical wooden floor on both the floors just like you would have on a houseboat. Walking on the wooden floors would often make creaky noises. That was the first thing I had observed when I checked in to the homestay the night before. The entire family was very welcoming and made me feel like I was at home.

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I sat on the chair looking at the beautiful, dreamy surroundings sipping my cup of hot kahwa. Kahwa is a Kashmiri tea specially prepared in a kahwa pot and served with a dollop of honey, grated cashews, almonds and walnuts. It was a welcome refreshment to start the day. From far ahead the melodious sound of the afternoon Azaan came floating. I had wished to spend the day slow and it couldn’t have been more rejuvenating.

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A sumptuous vegetarian Kashmiri lunch

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Lateef bhaiya’s wife had prepared a traditional Kashmiri lunch for me. I learnt that the locals would indulge in mostly vegetarian food throughout the day and non vegetarian Wazwan would be prepared occasionally. She had baked some fresh breads for me. It was called Lavasa. And along with that she had prepared a kind of daal which tasted unlike any daal I had ever had. I was served my brunch at my room. July was supposed to be warm but the incessant rain since night had led to a fall in the temperature. I sat on my cozy bed and relished the delicacies.

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Lateef bhaiya interrupted my mindful lunch by knocking at the door. I opened the wooden door and found him carrying a tray with two cups and a plate of what looked like a large deep fried tandoori roti.

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“This is an appetizer. But let’s have them as dessert. I have got you some Shirmal and Noon Chai!”, he said.

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“Now, what on earth was noon chai!” I wondered.

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Lateef bhaiya must have recognised the confused look on my face. So he said its pink tea which actually tasted salty and not sweet. Pink tea was prepared by boiling the Kashmiri tea leaves in water along with baking soda. After boiling it for a considerable amount of time, the mixture was cooled by adding cold water along with milk. This would turn the liquid burgundy. I was told that the process would take hours to prepare.

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As I finished devouring my first course of the meal, I took a bite of the Shirmal by dipping it in the Noon chai. It was crispy yet sweet. That salty flavour of the tea perfectly complemented the sweetness of the bread. Lateef bhaiya sat on the chair across the bed in the room sipping his tea while I finished my meal. He kept sharing stories about his trek journeys to Tarsar Marsar lakes and the nearby areas. It was a really fulfilling lunch.

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The evening by the Dal Lake

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I had decided to explore this side of the city by foot. The back side of Dal lake was much less commercialised compared to the main gates on the marine drive. I have always loved a ride on a Shikara on Dal lake. And I had this big desire to witness the sunset over the mountains from Dal lake. I decided to fulfil this wish that day by booking a Shikara all for myself. It was Lateef bhaiya’s brother’s Shikara and he agreed to take me around the Dal lake at a very reasonable cost.

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I left my homestay to take a walk along the banks of the lake. As I walked along, I discovered a number Shikaras parked along a small protruding jetty. A small steel bridge connected this part of the land to the one across the inlet. These inlets, which were multiple in number, had connected that part lake to other parts of the lake. Occasionally a Shikara would sail across to reach the jetty. I found a nice spot on a green piece of land covered with thick grass and perched myself on a secluded bench which was still wet with the morning drizzle.

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As it was late in the afternoon, the local traders were starting to gather around. The tourists, although few, on this side of the lake, started poring in. Fruit sellers, Paani puri vendors and other food carts thronged the jetty. Business was going to soar for that little part of the day. I sat on the green patch of land a little secluded from the hustle and bustle observing the surroundings. For some strange reason, I loved sitting idle immersed in complete inactivity, watching everything around absorbed in my own thoughts.

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The continuous rains had led to the formation of small puddles here and there. The puddles reflected the green mountains in the background. What caught my attention was a yellow Shikara which sailed across the lake as slow as a turtle. It was manned by an old man with a frail physique. He was dressed in a white attire with a white topi. He was dark skinned with wrinkled face. I had noticed him while he was sailing from where I was sitting. Perhaps he was in search of riders. I wished to take a ride on his Shikara but I had already booked my ride with Lateef bhaiya’s brother. So I silently watch the old man sail along peacefully.

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Wooden houseboats emerged in the middle of the lake originating from the side of the jetty. I had always been fascinated by the brown coloured houseboats and had the good fortune of even staying in one the last time I had visited Kashmir. It was already 5pm and I couldn’t fathom how time had passed by.

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A slow sunset from the Shikara

Lateef bhaiya’s brother had finished his daily chores and had prepared the shikara for my evening ride. I saw him approaching me from the side of the jetty. Somehow, he had figured me sitting there. He called out from a distance and gestured that he would get the shikara towards my part of the bank. He parked the Shikara and helped me to hop in. I sat down on the red cushioned seat. The whole Shikara belonged to me and I couldn’t be happier. This was luxury at its best.

We had a brief conversation as he sailed me through the houseboats onto the main lake. These houseboats were all empty considering the off-season in July. The waters of the lake were filled with green hyacinths which stood afloat in between two houseboats. As the oar struck the surface of the water, the water hyacinths were separated from the rest of the bunch. But as the shikara moved away they would float back and rejoin the rest.

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Lateef bhaiya’s brother seemed to be a popular face. The locals from the houseboats or from the other shikaras would often give him a shout out and exchange pleasantries. As I the shikara moved to the main lake, I decided to ditch the cushioned couch and sit at the tapering end of the boat.

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I balanced myself and sat there with my legs spread ahead. It was the most liberating feeling watching the grand mountains, the neighbouring shikaras and the surroundings. The air was so fresh that it instantly boosted my happy hormones. The sun was about to set in the horizon, and I was super thrilled. I sat there quietly listening to the oar contacting the waters. The oar made a swishing sound as it glided into the water. Water trickled down into the lake from the blade when the oar was pulled out. It was indeed soothing.

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That was exactly what I had desired – a slow evening. I wanted to be more conscious and aware of my surroundings, trying to feel the small little things all around. I wasn’t interested in doing much touristy stuff. It was my way of travelling mindfully and meaningfully.

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The Golden Hour

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My eyes fell upon the scenes around. A few children had gathered on a houseboat for an evening swim in the dark waters of the lake. They jumped into the waters, splashed the waters on everyone and seemed to have a real good time. My boat went past a swampy land where I realised that the water level was shallow. A few women had gathered there to collect weed from the lake. I learnt that weed from the lake was used for composting. As I again moved to the main lake several local sellers approached me. From sellers of kebabs, beverages, fruit salads to artefacts, jewellery and hookah sellers thronged the lake on boats and shikaras. The lake appeared to house a different civilisation altogether.

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Just when I was getting engrossed in the surroundings, I realised my mind had got diverted from the sunset. I was just there for the golden hour. I looked up at the sky. The sun, now in the form of a bright orange ball, appeared occasionally from within the dark grey clouds. The distant mountains turned black. The waters of the Dal lake turned golden as well. It was a magical sunset. The sun slowly slipped below the horizon. It was the end of another blissful day. I had nothing much to do rather than observing and savouring the vibes of Srinagar.

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I did not want to keep my day hectic before my trek. So, a slow day of travel seemed perfect for me. Srinagar is a beautiful city. When travelled mindfully with heart and soul it turns into a place of refuge for every traveller seeking beauty in the lap of calm. That’s what I did.

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I hope you enjoyed the slow day at Srinagar with me.

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Thank you for reading the blog.

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