A peek of heaven through Kashmir valley

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Itinerary

May 31 - June 8

D Day - Dhaka to Delhi
Day 1 - Delhi to Srinagar, Shalimar Bagh, Dal lake
Day 2 - Zero point, Sonmarg
Day 3 - Buta Pathri, Gulmarg
Day 4 - Kokernag, Sinthan Top
Day 5 - Aru valley, Betaab valley, Pahalgam
Day 6 - Baisaran valley, Pahalgam
Day 7 - Aharbal waterfall, Kulgam
Day 8 - Srinagar to Delhi to Dhaka

“Namaskar friends. Visa2Explore mein aapka swagat hai. Mein hoon aapka host Harish Bali.” I have been to Kashmir even before I reached there physically with these warm greetings from the host Harish Bali in his travel videos. Ever since me and Samudro decided to visit Kashmir, I have been hooked on watching travel videos, planning, and budgeting. The travel videos of Harish Bali were perfect for my taste. Wherever he visits, he shows the beauty of the place, but also the local lives, the chaos of other tourists, honking of cars. The middle aged man, in his half-sleeves and tailored pants, takes you to a tourist spot, gives you all the information one needs, and often he gets very joyful like a ten year old “Oye hoye hoye… pani itni thandi hai…” The videos made me feel I am right there and feeling the heat, the cold and the noise. My planning was so much shaped by this guy’s videos, that I could not but have him in the intro.

In primary school, we had a slim copy of a general knowledge book from where we used to memorize the capital of different countries, the currencies, different dates which had historical importance etc. There was a question—which place is called “Bhushorgo” meaning paradise on earth. And I memorized the answer to that question—Kashmir. That was the first time I came to know about Kashmir, when the internet was not popular in my part of the world. Kashmir was just a two syllable word and an answer to a question to pass the exam. Then with time, with the internet, with breaking news, with books and movies and with the thirst of exploring, the yearning to visit the land of Kashmir, started to grow.

Our Kashmir trip was 7 nights long. We visited some popular destinations- Srinagar, Sonmarg, Gulmarg, Pahalgam and some offbeat destinations- Kokernag, Sinthan top, Aharbal waterfall. Our journey was set in the first week of June. The temperature was moderately warm in Srinagar and Gulmarg, cold in the high altitude places (windbreaker needed) and moderately cold in Pahalgam. Noticed that, Srinagar is warmer, Pahalgam is colder. And both places get more cold once it rains in Kashmir. So, when we returned we found a colder Srinagar than when we arrived. There is a saying “Mumbai ki fashion aur Kashmir ki weather…”

D Day

“We are going to Kashmir”, doesn't sound real. After sleeping for barely three hours we woke up in the morning, crossed an empty Dhaka street, and reached the airport. Passport checked, sunscreen checked, sunglasses checked and baseball caps checked. Like the Milk and Mocha reel, I, like Milk more relaxed and Samudro, like Mocha doing the actual work. We landed in a very hot Delhi. One thing I always admire about Delhi (which we would later notice in Kashmir as well) is - the public buses. They are clean and shiny, unlike the bhanga buses we see at Dhaka. We noticed less Prado cars and more buses in the streets, some proudly boasting 100% electric. All afternoon we googled where we could go sightseeing in Delhi, and finally we fell asleep, our research buried in sleep. In the evening, we did some shopping. This time we stayed in Karol Bagh. Quiet and clean location, unlike the usual tourist hub, Paharganj. The Karol Bagh market is 8/10 minutes by auto. It was so nice! You can find all brand shops — Peter England, Fastrack, Puma, layout like Mall roads of hilly cities and a replica of all brands, displayed by the hawkers in between the rows of brand shops. Whatever you want to buy, there’s a good chance you’ll find there. We shopped late, then had a late dinner at a non-veg restaurant and went back to our hotel. Still, could not believe we are on a journey to Kashmir!

Day 1: The Shade of red lipstick

The first joy of exploring touched us when we boarded the plane from Delhi. The flight was packed with children and their parents, children laughing, screaming, making the aisle a playing station and their parents—a bit relaxed, now that it’s not just their kids, but all kids, who are making a mess. As soon as the plane flew — “arre baba, koto upore uthe gelam”, “pooree dillee dekh liya” and giggles and excitement. Reminded me of the peepshow wallah in Rushdie’s “Midnight’s Children”, who would call the kids “Delhi dekho, duniya dekho” and entertain the kids with peep shows of Taj Mahal, Agra in the 50’s. The kids also made the turbulence seem like a ferris wheel ride in an amusement park, something to enjoy and not to worry about.

We reached Srinagar. And thinking how to communicate with our cab driver, out of wifi. Both roaming and different states’ sim cards are banned in Kashmir. An official from the airport could read our helpless looks and approached us to help. He took the driver’s number in his phone, spoke with him in Kashmiri and the cab driver appeared in no minute. Meet Ajaz bhai, whom we would get to know more in the coming days. A very jolly person “good morning sister”, a cab driver cum trip advisor cum alarm clock in the morning, he was a brother throughout the tour. Getting out of the airport, everywhere in big white letters on green boards written “Welcome to paradise on earth”. Getting a little overwhelmed- this is it?

We crossed some local markets on the way, then buildings on both sides of the road. Two storied, three storied ones with a lawn in the front and a wall. And right there on the wall, bursting in flame, like the color of a seductive red lipstick—roses. I would come to know later the breed- climbing roses. They grow so much in numbers, almost like the bougainvillea here. And come in white, red, pink… making the walls lucrative. The red tiles of the house’s roof and the red of roses—I remember drawing a watercolor picture similar to this, but no way as stunning as Kashmiri roses. One color—not red, not pink but stunning like red and gorgeous like pink, totally awed me. And I was turning my eyes left and right to catch a glimpse on whichever side of the road they appeared on.

We spent the afternoon in Shalimar Bagh, a Mughal garden. There the rose plants have thicker trunks, curated by generations of gardeners from the time of Mughal emperor Jahangir to Shah Jahan to Hari Singh. Flower plants line the garden and chinar trees shade the flowers, and the young trees and the tourists. The backside of the garden makes a hilly background. There were rows of larkspur flowers, purple in color and looking like lavender rows. If you come to Kashmir in June, you meet flowers in their youth, pollens too. The whole nature is mating, and their wedding is decorated with the lush green grass, leaves, newly bloomed flowers, mountain tops and Kashmiri blue sky. And between grass and leaves, between mountains and sky- there is nothing else. Only perfection.

The sunset time went by doing shikara rides on dal lake. “Laal dupatta ud gaya re”- the shikara’s flower printed red curtains moving with the winds and we slowed down ourselves for an hour, letting us flow with the curtains. The quiet stream of the lake, occasionally tumultuous by the speedboats of tourists, the blurry mountains or was it the sky? We were puzzled where did the mountains end and the sky start.

Day 2: An endless journey

At 6:30 in the morning, “Good morning sister, I am ready, waiting for you”, “Okay brother, let me brush my teeth”, the phone call from Ajaz bhai would recur everyday like an alarm clock. Half awake, half asleep we started towards Sonmarg. We left the Dal lake, the Chowks and now the countryside appeared… and Ajaz bhai, “Oh my sister is sleeping…”, I was awakened from my morning nap in a different landscape, gone are the fields and remnants of modern day lives. Taller mountains, closer to us. And strong streams flowing by. Did someone draw horses? No, they are actual horses grazing on the valleys of the mountains and some local homes made of mud I can see. And tourists are buzzing in this roadside dhaba where we stopped to eat breakfast. What to order, what to order, “chapatti and Kashmiri dum aloo and chai?” While I was gazing at the beauty of the place, other tables had their breakfast served and a very logical Samudro, my dear friend, asked me “do you think Kashmiri dum aloo was a good choice? Maybe they will take an hour to prepare that”. Thanks God, the dum aloo came quickly after his remarks.

We reached the valley of gold- Sonmarg, the sunshine bathed golden valley. From the taxi stand we had to hire a union taxi as per the local rule. Taxiwala bhai showed us his village when it passed, Baltal- a camping ground for pilgrims, then the last village of Sonmarg. This road goes to Kargil via which Ladakh is connected to Kashmir. We saw a tunnel being built in progress, Zojila tunnel which would connect Ladakh with Kashmir valley all year long. “This road is one of the most dangerous in India,” our driver said with pride as he drove. The steep mountains, almost 90 degrees, are carved to make the Zoji La pass road. And what accompanies this dangerous road is—beauty. Up we go, mountains shed their greenish make up and turn rocky. Up we go, mountains go steep, so is life. Up we go, beauty flourish, no wonder over such places countries war and neighbors turn enemies.

Eventually we stopped where other taxis stopped. A gigantic vanilla ice-cream tub stared at us, dotted with miniature cabs, and micro dots of other tourists like us. Then the vanilla ice-cream swallowed us and two new micro dots grew out of it. Samudro and I were looking for a large stone to sit and stare at the beauty. There was one, but to reach there we needed to cross a narrow stream. Samudro hops, and his wife, “I can do it, I can do it, big big jump, yaaaaaa…” then jump! Samudro is back to the opposite side of the stream, to join his small legged wife. “We will find another stone”.

On the way back from Zero point, we passed by some bikers- helmets black, their windbreakers black, black motors, shaii shaii shaii… they are going to Ladakh. And who else- a flock of sheep (taking lunch break) and the shepherds. Taxiwala bhai mentioned that these sheep started from Jammu, and it would take them 3-4 months to complete the migration to Ladakh and they will migrate back in the winter.

Back to Sonmarg taxi stand. After lunch we trekked for fifteen minutes to reach another stone, this time in green mountain, among deodar trees, no stream separates the path. Zigzag zigzag we go up and the stone gets closer and bigger. An odd stone, protruding itself from the valley. Seems like there were earth shaking quakes, and stones the size of houses rolled down down, and midway a stone between rolling, froze. Our first stone in the trip. We met three Kashmiri women who invited us to sit near them. They were a little curious, all tourists going to Bajrangi bhaijaan point, and these two came where no one else felt like exploring. In Hindi they asked where we came from. Bangladesh. They smiled, “Ah, Bangladesh”. We would get the same smile from many locals again. Additionally, “Ah, Bangladesh had a cricket match yesterday”.

The women left. Just the two of us. And a big rock. Quiet. Lost are the ponywalla’s callings, the camera clicks of tourists, honking of the cars, and unleashes—the forest. Deodar leaves rustling in the wind, leaving a chill in our skin. And birdie friends can be heard. There comes a sweep of wind, and pollens are dancing in the forest. On its way, the pollens touched little humans, touched the deodar trunks, touched other pollens and still dancing, until it finally found the right flower for it.

After soaking our ears and souls with the forest’s music we left for Srinagar. On the way, full time accompanied the Sindh river. Ferocious, it makes you glue your eyes to the ferocity of the stream. We could not but stop again, to touch this ferocity. Ajaz bhai stopped happily. Helped us descend to the stream side. Later we noticed, brother was washing his car happily with the Sindh river water, what a luxury Kashmiri people can afford! Samudro and I took off our shoes and socks. Ki ache jibone. We started to walk the little distance covered by shallow water on stones. As soon as I stepped into the water, my feet! Frozen… My left hand, held by a tourist woman, much older than me, right hand, held by my husband. Like a baby, I crossed that distance, and sat on a rock. Then touched the stream, ferocious, its current entering into my skin. Sindh river makes you a little younger, makes you giggle like a kid. I let my feet soak in the water, 1, 2, 3, .. 8, 9, 10 I counted and moved my feet out of the water. I looked in my front. The water splashes are flowing in one direction. They are flowing through Sonmarg, then they will cross districts and borders and reach Pakistan. The river is on a journey, like the bikers who are going to Ladakh, like the sheep who started from jammu, and maybe like the pollens. Everyone, splashing, sweeping on an endless journey.

Day 3: Wish I had a polaroid camera

Gulon mein rang bhare

Baad-e nau-bahaar chale

Chale bhi aao

Kih gulshan ka kaar-o-baar chale

Let the petals fill with color

Let the breeze ruffle the spring

Come along,

Awaken the garden to life

Our third day in Kashmir, we were passing the roads of Baramulla district, adorned with white flowers. The valley of flower “Gulmarg” is yet to come, but the show has started. The road inside the town faces icy mountains. So it seems the road ends on a mountain, it does. For breakfast we stopped at a roadside hotel. Aloo paratha and Kashmir’s signature—kahwa. A Kashmiri man in white kurta, pajamas and a beautiful smile served us the orange-yellow drink—kahwa tea in two glasses. I am sure this is the tea served in paradise. On our way to Gulmarg—we are going up and up again. Unlike the road of Sonmarg, the road to Gulmarg is more civil, beautifully carved in the mountains, shadowed by pines and deodars. And the valleys are decorated by Kashmir-i-gul. Zigzag, zigzag and we reached Gulmarg center point.

Same as Sonmarg, here you have to take a local union taxi for sightseeing. We found a taxiwala. Our destination was Buta Pathri. The driver needs permission to reach Buta Pathri as the area is very controlled, being very close to the border. While we waited for the driver, we bought some juices from a nearby shop. “Didi, aap Bangladesh se aayi ho?”. “Yes yes..”. “Dhaka? Mirpur? Chittagong?”. “Yes yes, Dhaka”. “Didi, chollish taka” he spoke in my language, forty rupees cost. I was awed every time someone I met answered me or tried to answer me in Bangla.

The ride to Buta Pathri was flowery. There are three stops, named Nagin valley one, two and three. And the final destination is a valley divided by a stream and joined by a bridge. Stones of various sizes make the seats for the tourists who enjoy their time here. Buta Pathri has been open for tourists very recently. So, you can trek a little and find solitude under the pine trees here easily. We didn’t take any pony, found a quiet place and just sat. We discovered flower beds- yellow, pink and white flowers blooming right beside us, so shy, down to the earth. This time Samudro kept his feet dry. I let my feet sweeped by the water stream of Buta Pathri. A fallen tree’s long trunk made kind of a bridge across the stream. We noticed a family made its way to that trunk. The trunk was posed dangerously on the stones, and the family who seemed like two pairs of two generations- a newly married couple and the parents of one of them, posed for pictures on the trunk. The newly married couple stood at one edge of the trunk, the man posed like Shah Rukh Khan, and the woman, I can’t see her feet touching the ground. It looks like a movie shooting in a scenic place. The older couple clicked the shots. And now it's the turn for the older couple. Reminded me of One Republic’s “Old, but I'm not that old”, equally daring pose! The old man posing like the heroes of his time. Kya baat hai! And there comes the Army folks, who can be spotted frequently in this region, to dismiss this movie shooting.

On the way back from Buta Pathri, we stopped at Nagin valley to gaze at the grazing beauty—the mountain sheep. Nagin valley is dotted with flowers and rocks. Something very delicate and something very tough—lie side by side. We took some sun-kissed photos. Three little girls aged seven-eight, were watching us with interest. Our eyes met and we thought we should start a conversation. They were locals, asked them in my broken Hindi, where do you girls live? And they replied “there” and pointed us to a direction which can be anywhere. Samudro asked if they went to school and again they pointed in a direction where their school could be. They were smiling and were giving us some looks. I asked if they wanted to take photographs. Yes, they wanted to! Reminded me of Batul, a character from “The House of the Mosque” by Kader Abdolah. Batul yearned to be seen through the lens of a camera… Three beautiful girls looked at the lens of my mobile phone and a photograph was captured. Captured some emotions also. We said them bye. They continued to wave at us until our car vanished from the road. Waved at the strangers, on whose phones they left their photos. And we left our moments spent with three little girls. I wish I had a polaroid camera, for once in my life. I could leave a printed memory of three little girls, three girlfriends to them.

Day 4: One of a thousand green posts 

Before we took this journey, everyday I would plan a little. My elaborated Google docs, calendar events to remind ourselves for bookings etc. I watched all seven episodes of Harish Bali’s Kashmir season 1 series on YouTube. The initial itinerary was done. I was still continuing to watch the second season of Kashmir travel by Harish Bali, no intention to include anything offbeat yet, just watching, maybe for another Kashmir trip. In the last two episodes, two-three offbeat destinations—Kokernag, Sinthan Top and Aharbal waterfall—amazed me. And the itinerary got changed again. God, we changed plans so much, especially one hotel we booked, canceled and booked so many times—it was like Michael Scott in the “Dinner Party” episode of The Office “Snip, snap! Snip, snap! Snip, snap!”

On our fourth day in Kashmir, we started for two offbeat destinations—Sinthan Top and Kokernag. But first, let’s shop! Pampore, 20 kilometers from Srinagar is the place where you can spot fields after fields of saffron. Saffron blooms in October, when most other fruits and nuts are harvested too. But there are a number of shops who sell kesar, walnut, almonds and other supremacy grown in Kashmir throughout the year. Ajaz bhai stopped at one of these shops. The shopkeeper welcomed us with kahwa in two paper cups. He asked where we were coming from. Oh Bangladesh, assalamualaikum. Bhalo acho? And displayed us his repertoire of Bengali. He started to unlid one after another jars of Kashmiri delicacies. He was interpreting our Bengali conversation very well. “Eta nebe na?”. We smiled at him. We tasted the almond, walnut, and smelled the kesar. And loaded us with Kashmiri delights.

Back in our car. We spotted cricket bats made of wood from willow trees being sun-dried on the rooftop of sports shops. We entered the district of Anantnag. Our first destination, the Kokernag botanical garden, arrived. There are theories about the name “Kokernag”, but we won’t go there. This place was run by Jammu Kashmir tourism’s facilities. There was a cafe inside where we ate bread omelets, and drank tea. Oh, all the places we tried omelets, we were served egg white omelets, fluffy not paper thin, white no fried color and taste simple and yum. I am gonna try this at home—egg white whisked until very fluffy, add a little salt and pepper, fry with butter—enjoy fluffy white omelet. With our tummy happy, we started to roam inside the garden. There were similarities with the Mughal gardens we found in Srinagar. But much less busy.

A tributary of Jhelum river bisects the garden. Trees formed shades and flower beds grew under them at places. We took photographs, admired the white beauties—the white flowers that dominated the garden. We rested for some time under a tree and watched local kids jumping in the water stream. They were visiting the park from their school. Every park type place we visited, we found at least one group of school children doing excursions there.

Shortly after, we left for Sinthan Top, another 45 kilometers. The road to Sinthan Top elevates gradually. We were leaving behind the towns and neighborhoods and ahead of us were the mountains capped with snow and the snow capped with clouds. Wind was speeding up. Very few homes, made of mud and wood, built sparsely would appear in our eyesight. Nature is flourishing and there are less and less signs of human civilization. Who came here to build the roads? How did they reach… how were all the equipment, pitch, bricks brought here. I was getting lost into nature and thoughts. Carving mountains to build roads seemed to me an art of itself. People always used to carve stones, caves and today we are brought to these roads.

Sinthan Top is a glacier, what is unique about it is—both ice and greenery dwell side by side here. A patch of grass and ice, trees standing in the middle of thick frost, flowers blooming out of snow… No chocolate chip ice-cream here. The Sinthan flavor ice-cream is yet to be made, but it would look like- vanilla topped with green lolly ice-cream. We rented two pairs of snow boots. Leaving big big holes in the snow, we trekked to a top and quiet spot, found two stones, which were luckily flat to support us. The afternoon passed by watching clouds, they were going towards Chhatru, one of the two regions connected by this road.

Saying bye to the clouds and lollypop snow, we started towards Pahalgam, where we would stay the night. We were in Daksum. From Daksum to Anantnag, the road is characterized by river streams running parallel, and white flowers growing in bushes. I haven't seen any land that can grow flowers in such a “bumper” quantity!

The afternoon light is dimming slowly. Clouds are forming in the sky. Awantipora 27 kms… Pahalgam 14 kms… We are crossing road signs, and green posts that say Aishmuqam at front, Khiram 10 kms at the left. The clouds are lower than ever. Another street post of green color appears. It says “Pahalgam 0 km”. Looks like any other green post we crossed so far in our journey. What we did not know is—this is the green post, one of a thousand of others, which is the entryway to paradise.

“There will be two Gardens.

Both will be with lush branches.

In each Garden will be two flowing springs.

In each will be two types of every fruit.”

The Lidder river welcomed us. Ferocious, like the Sindh. The water color is aqua here. Almost evening, we reached PK Cottage, our first night stay at Pahalgam. As soon as we reached, rain poured over Pahalgam. PK Cottage is more like a villa. We stayed in a large, spacious room with an open veranda. What came free was—a beautiful flower bedded garden in the front. You won't wanna walk in the garden, don’t wanna disturb the small white flowers spreading like a carpet. We had Kashmiri veg pulao for our dinner. It was delicious, yellow rice like Bangladeshi bhaat bhaji, not sweet like pulao but a little spicy, characterized by chopped almonds and cashews and stuffed with green peas and carrots. We finished the whole thing, garma garam… it felt like we had come to our village home, eating hot khichuri and outside rain was pouring heavily and making us chilled. Only it was not just the sound of rain, but also the ferocious Lidder stream that orchestrated a soothing musical throughout the night.

Day 5: The ministry of utmost happiness

Waking up in paradise, ordered the heavenly drink—kahwa. And aloo-paratha, my personal favorite. Food came and empty plates left. I have unpacked something from my luggage. “The Ministry of Utmost Happiness”. My most favorite books’ one. So favorite that I bought a second copy, an original one since my only copy was a pirated one from Nilkhet, back in the student days. In this book I met Anjum, a Delhi dweller, neither he, nor she, but who is everyone. I met Tilo, her time in Kashmir… I wanted to relax on the trip with the pages written by Roy. And also take some snaps for my Instagram, showing how crazy I am. This book is truly a wine, tastes better on second read!

Truly a paradise, you don’t need to bargain for a taxi in Pahalgam. The union taxi has a super articulate rate list that benefits both the taxi driver and the tourists. Every hotel has this rate list. They call the taxi on your behalf. After breakfast our cab arrived. We were wondering if it is a good idea to sightsee. This place with its beautiful lawn and musical stream feel like heaven. And honestly we were sad to bye bye PK Cottage, such a friendly and warm hosting we got here. We had initially planned a 2 nights stay at Pahalgam. Later we extended it to three, but the hotel where we booked the two nights, wasn’t free this other night. So, PK Cottage was our second choice for this third night. Who knew how the other hotel would turn out. What if we did not like it… With a slightly heavy heart, we said bye to the hotel staff and started for Betaab valley.

Wadiy e Hajan, a beautiful valley got its name Betaab when a movie of the same name was shot here in the 80s. We just entered Betaab valley and got awed by the pleasant vibes. The valley park is a large area bounded by rocky mountains on one side, lush mountains on another and flowing stream leaves from one other side. Girls aged 8-10 surrounded us, “didi, kabootar le lo… didi, bhed le lo”. Didi was super excited. And didi loves animals. So, I posed with a pigeon on my shoulder and Samudro clicked shots. We moved forward. A bridge inside to take more clicks. There’s a large open field where we strolled. A large name plaque saying “Betaab Valley '', more pictures there. Samudro has this thing, to take pictures with name plaques wherever he visits, all the milestones of him captured in images. Then an empty bench we found. Lazily sat there for some time. A group of school kids accompanied by their teacher has come near. The kids want to play in the water stream. They are rolling up their sleeves and pants. The teacher is shaking his head, no no. The kids are pressing and pressing, more excited Kashmiri words I don’t understand. The teacher is trying to run after the kids like they are his sheep… finally he himself had to roll up his sleeves to join the kids in the water. A few boys were playing stone skipping, their little body twisting so athletically with each throw they made.

The sky was cloudy and we left for Aru valley. It was almost two hours we spent in Betaab. Will Aru valley be better than this? Is that possible? The road to Aru valley was heavenly, is there a word Pahalgamy? Because nothing can be worldly here. The roads are carved high in the mountains and the Lidder stream can be seen far below from the roads. On the way, here and there sheep grazing, horses grazing, goats also grazing. The beautiful road ended in a muddy taxi stand. Slop slop we crossed the mud. On the way to the valley there were fruit stalls, snacks shops. I spotted watermelon and turned to Samudro, pleeease? We asked the tall Kashmiri man with a cowboy hat who was running the fruit stall to give us some watermelon. Then, what are these fruits, round and yellow like melons? Can you give us those too? So, we had a fruit mix of watermelon, sun melon and muskmelon. Sun melon, the sun-like round and bright yellow fruit was white inside and tasted like melon and pear. We also tasted cherries, which are harvested in June. Both cherries and sun melons were great! I was eating with delight and my husband was looking at his watch too frequently. He remarked that we won’t get to see any of Aru valley if I kept eating like that. I made a face that says, oh you and your time ethics…

Shortly after we entered Aru valley through a steel gate that was colored green. The valley is enclosed by wires. The river stream on one side is far below the valley ground and the slope is too steep, so comes the wired enclosure. The view was amazing. We walked, slowly like the mountain sheep or goats. There was a big rock, probably the height of Samudro. We climbed the rock one by one. Samudro displayed a gigantic leap from the rock. Rain started to fall very slowly, on our way back. We still enjoyed the Aru valley unhurriedly despite my eating fruits for half an hour.

Then we started for Bentes Lodge, the other hotel. After crossing the town and many parks of Pahalgam, we entered a forest block. So high pine trees on both sides of a narrow road, which are merely stones laid out on mountain carves. Here and there are some properties. The jeep was moving very slow, steeper roads ahead. In fact, Google Maps shows no road that leads to Bentes Lodge, because the motorable roads don’t lead here. We couldn’t believe there could be a population in that dense forest, let alone hotels for tourists. Finally a name plaque saying “Bentes Lodge” came into view. I looked at Samudro with guilt. Sorry I should have checked thoroughly before booking the stay at such a remote place. From the gate of the lodge, we had to trek 4-5 flights to reach the lodge. It’s alright, we can see more lodges here and there in a little distance. And other humans are here, look we are not alone. After a few minutes, we melted in the “into the woods” feeling. Amazing, amazing.. From the room window, I can see two horses grazing a few feet distant, behind them pine forest, behind them mountain peaks and glaciers wrapped in clouds, behind them…. O my God… the window with the most amazing view of my life. Can we get some kahwa? Sure. The taste of kahwa melting inside us, and we are in a state of meditation looking at nature.

And the second honeymoon starts…

Day 6: Green stone and pink stone... and parkour!

A piece of broken sunglasses on my left, dried horse dung in front, a few steps ahead water logged in shallow holes made by horseshoes. The mechanical sound of my pants brushing against each other as I am walking, some bird calling its mate tirelessly and the faint sound of Lidder river which we are approaching slowly. We are trekking to the Baisaran valley. We started from Bentes Lodge in mid morning, came to the Baisaran trek point on foot. And following the Baisaran road or wherever Google Maps is taking us. Pony Wallahs of Pahalgam insisted us to hire ponies. 2000, 1200, 800… lowering the prices and following us all along. “Khichar hain, barish hui kal raat se, nahi ja pao gi…” (Samudro does the proofing of my Hindi, so, not my fault if I write anything incorrect.) And the pony wallahs all over Kashmir always promise us to give us a tour of Bajrangi Bhaijaan shooting spot. In Sonmarg, in Gulmarg, in Pahalgam… Seems like every place a horse can take you was covered by Bajrangi Bhaijaan.

The river must be close, we had been hearing the breeze for a while, which was getting stronger and stronger with each step. But no sign of the river yet. But the Google Map says we have to cross a river. At one point, Samudro suggested, maybe we already crossed the river, you know, it passed under the mountain. And I told him “Ha Jo, I think you are right”. Geology and physics and science—all probably collapsed hearing our thoughts, LOL. We are often giving space for the ponies carrying passengers to pass by. Sometimes the ponies take the corner of the road, and the rider would scream “Hey hey, Raju beta, maat jaao.. Gir jao gi..” Finally the river stream appears. Flowing shallowly on rocks on its way to join a deep stream. The stream was below about fifty feet from us. At that point we decided to take a shortcut and trek down, cross the river and trek up again. This would save us a long arch of road. Very excited by the idea of shortcut and saving ourselves a great deal of time and energy, (thinking we are smarter than pony wallahs) we began. It was challenging and fun to balance on the slippery rocks and reach the other side of the stream. Then Samudro’s turn, his one leg in a dry rock, another leg in the air, and he became still. The stones in the stream did not seem heavy enough to carry his weight and would probably topple if he stepped on them. I lent a hand and my proud moment of helping a man who is taller, stronger and sharper than me (even though it is me who drank the most Horlicks in childhood). Jo thanked me heartfully. Soon we would get to know on our way back that only if I listened to Samudro, there was a perfect bridge waiting on the arched road that takes no effort to cross.

We took more shortcuts and then lost track of the actual roads, a path made with stones. The roads are long, while the shortcuts are short but steep. So instead of taking an easy route, what we were doing was Parkour… LOL. Samudro with his GPS and Google Maps, brought us back to the laid path again. The stones we were stepping in and out on the way were colorful—pink, aqua, blue, green, liver brown… I sneaked two beautiful stones- an aqua green stone, the size of a fist, and that gives Lidder river its aqua color. Another was a liver colored pebble. It’s been three hours since we started from Bentes Lodge. And here we are, at Baisaran valley, which is also called mini Switzerland. No taxi stand, but a large pony-stand right in front of the gate. We heard a tourist exclaim “Itni gandha hain Switzerland?” LOL. 

Baisaran valley is vast, pine trees surround the valley three sixty degrees. All sides, the horizon is the piney mountains dipped in glaciers. There are lots of tourist attractions here. Zorbing, zipline, trampoline… you have it all. Samudro and I are more like walk-on-feet, rest-in-seat people. We sprawled over the grass carpet, made our backpack pillows for the heads, and just gaze at the beauty in front. The pine tree gave us shadow. In the tourist spots, girls, men, women rent cute sheep, goats etc for 50 rupees. Hold a wooly for a few minutes, take some photos and pay fifty rupees. Also you can rent a Kashmiri traditional dress for 200 rupees and take pictures. Jo was looking at the dresses and then looking at me and then at the dresses. So I asked, do you want me to wear any of them? He nodded. So this is what I did—wore a traditional dress with ornaments, held a pitcher and positioned a flower basket on my back… and charged Samudro 400 rupees for taking pictures with a Kashmiri woman.

On the way back we did less parkour, mostly followed the path. Green stone and pink stone… blue stone and liver stone… daylight dimming out. One full day of green vehicles—just our feet! Reached Bentes Lodge, itself a spot! The staff there were very friendly. I tasted the yummiest yogurt there. Plain white and slightly cold, they serve it with biryani and make it in their kitchen. Funny, I am from Bogura and proud of our yogurt, but can’t eat more than two scoops of sugary yogurt. The one I tasted here had no sugar, and I ate both mine and Samudro’s portion, my most favorite yogurt so far. We were hungry and finished the full hotpot of chicken pulao. Dessert was Kashmiri halwa. They make it with semolina and sugar and lots of ghee. The color is almost beige. So yummy taste, I promised Jo to make him this halwa once we are back home.

Day 7: The river of snake

Once again Ajaz bhai, our alarm clock, woke us up to announce that he is ready, waiting to take us back to Srinagar. We ate our breakfast, unhurried. Egg omelet and tea on an open table laid on the grass. With a heavier heart, said bye to our hosts at Bentes Lodge. In one word, Bentes Lodge was “quiet”. No car sound, no blockage of view.  The place we feared we shouldn’t have booked, and returning with a hope to come here again, just here, stay for a week, eat, sleep and meditate…

We are leaving Pahalgam. Miles of apple farms come in our way. I saw red, round apples hanging from the tree. So unbelievably red and perfect. I turned to Samudro, “Jo look, sooo red apple, are these real or plastic…”. Samudro shaked his head “No, you see, apples are very red here.” Ajaz bhai overheard our conversation and interfered, “these are artificial apples, not real. Apples come in October”. Oh that’s why…

Each apple farm there has a little stall at the front where they sell fresh apple juice, apple jams etc. We didn’t have the intention, but Ajaz bhai stopped at a farm. The owner came out, looked at me and said, “Come sister, fresh apple juice, ladies washroom”. How did he know I needed to use the toilet? Women my size actually have one thing to do in tours- look for a washroom. LOL. Every business in Kashmir knew that. So, I used the ladies washroom and joined Samudro inside the farm. Apples the size of jujube and green are hanging from the tree branches, beside the artificial red ones. We drank some apple juice, fresh and delicious. Purchased mulberry jam and apple cider vinegar. And back on the road.

In three hundred meters turn right on Kulgam road… Turn right on Kulgam road. Continue in Kulgam road for nine hundred meters… The Google Maps woman guided us to the river of snakes, the Vishew river. The path along which it flows looks like the carves of a snake. Apart from the Google woman, we can hear Ajaz bhai occasionally answering his cell phone, “Kaichu?”, don’t know what that means in Kashmiri, or even that’s a proper word. Ajaz bhai let us know that this is his first time in Aharbal. He was driving extra cautiously. The road to Aharbal is plain, on two sides, gardens of apples. On the horizon are misty mountains. Aharbal waterfall is situated amidst some tall, handsome mountains which are straight as soldiers. Along with a group of school kids singing, laughing, we entered the waterfall park with excitement.

Staircases are built along the way to the waterfall. With each step we approach, the sound of the waterfall becomes stronger. And we are met with a dazzling show of water rushing down. In the process, it makes a huge aerosol which touches the tourists also. Rain was spitting on and off too. So much water, tons and tons of water powers this waterfall. Samudro remarked that the waterfall doesn’t freeze in winter, because of the intense force at which it flows.

The stones on the way to the waterfall amazed me. Soldier-straight rocky mountains. Stones are colored greenish where water streams hit the mountains and reddish at the top, where plantation was present. The stones formed a geometric texture, reminding me of a phone wallpaper. Capturing the mesmerizing view with our eyes and camera, we left the waterfall, offbeat but worth it destination.

We rode through Kulgam district. There was a viewpoint from where you can see the whole town below. We turned our eyes to get the view and Ajaz bhai asked, “do you want to take pictures?”. Sure, we got out of the car. Took pictures. Then saw Ajaz bhai taking a selfie from the viewpoint. We remembered that this is his first time here too. This part of Kashmir is less visited, so you can spot more locals and their habitation and occupation. We watched two cricket teams playing a match beside a river, which might be the Vishew river. After Kulgam we entered Sopian, it’s called the district of apples. The city bridge is lined with rows of headlights on both sides, where large red apple shaped lights hang. I turned to Samudro to show him this, but my Jo is asleep. Let him be. There were sooo many pollen outside. Like someone has unleashed a cloud and pollen grains, like soft cotton is raining from there. I closed the car window, to let Samudro sleep peacefully.

Day 8: Back to earth?

We are doing some last minute shopping from Srinagar airport. Loose kahwa with rose petals and noon chai or pink tea which is another Kashmiri delight. The previous day we purchased Kashmiri shawls for ourselves and our family. And now we are leaving but bringing with us some amazing memories.

Back to home. After batches of laundry, sorting souvenirs, backing up photos, made time to start writing this travelog. Youtubed how to make noon chai. I think the salt increases the boiling point of water, so it takes a long time to prepare the tea. But it tastes unique and the color is unique too—salmon pink. I have a beautiful piece of pink ceramic tea cup set in my mind which would go perfect with this pink tea, but I don't have the heart to tell this to Samudro. Or I will just tell him, just to see the face he makes.

Sipping from the noon chai, I am finishing off the travelog. My endeavor to freeze some experiences we had in the most beautiful land we visited. Life is like a rolling tape of film. We will roll and roll, but sometimes we will just come back here, remember the Kashmiri girls we met, the cheek like red apples? Remember Ajaz bhai who let us use his sim card and we didn’t have to buy one. Remember the pony wallahs lowering their rate so cheap… and not everything we will be able to remember. The memory will wear down one day as a rule of life, but I want us to remember that we spent a beautiful time here, a beautiful morning, you and I, and the alpine forest lining the blue of Kashmiri sky.