Gulmarg – A Meadow of Flowers and a Valley of Hope
Srinagar – 4 May 2025
How beautiful this picture is!
How incomparable and enchanting the weather is!
This is Kashmir.
Gulmarg—the “Meadow of Flowers”—is a valley carpeted with white lavender blossoms, surrounded by lush greenery, with the majestic Pir Panjal range rising in the background. Pine, fir, and deodar forests complete a landscape that is difficult to surpass in beauty. Countless films and advertisements have been shot here, and hundreds of thousands of tourists have visited over the years, yet Gulmarg has retained its pristine charm. In winter, it is simply unrivalled.
We left Srinagar at 9:00 a.m. under clear sunshine. By the time we reached Gulmarg at 11:00 a.m., dark clouds had gathered overhead. When we decided to leave around noon, rain held us back. It seemed as though Nature herself was saying, “Take with you the joy of every season.”
As I stretched out my arms in the rain like Shah Rukh Khan in a Bollywood film, the famous song Ole Ole suddenly came to mind. And, as if on cue, hailstones began to fall. In the very next moment, Lakshmi came rushing into my arms. At that instant, amidst the vast valley, she was the only girl in sight.
We enjoyed the hailstorm and rain over cups of hot tea before leaving Gulmarg for Doodhpathri. The rain stopped as soon as we descended from the hills, so we paused at Maqbool Arts in Magam. The shopkeeper welcomed us with a cup of traditional Kashmiri kahwa. It was an attractive showroom offering salwar suits, saris, and Kashmiri handicrafts. Irshad Khan and his colleague Rauf Shah appeared knowledgeable and dedicated to their craft. Lakshmi liked a beautifully woven kani suit, but it was too long for her, so we left without purchasing it.
From Magam, we took the interior road towards Doodhpathri.
Because of a government advisory, Doodhpathri had been closed to tourists. We could neither visit it nor enjoy the beauty of the nearby Tosa Maidan, but even the road leading in that direction was captivating enough to make the drive worthwhile.
Traffic was almost non-existent. Occasionally we passed one or two vehicles, but otherwise the road was deserted. Small villages appeared along the way. The houses lining both sides of the road were built in an elegant European style, making one feel as though travelling through a picturesque village somewhere in Europe.
Clusters of houses alternated with small agricultural fields. Tiny plots of two or three kanals each (one kanal is approximately one-eighth of an acre) were planted with mustard or paddy. Beyond the fields stretched open meadows, and behind them rose gently undulating green hills in varying shades, creating a magnificent natural panorama.
In no way did this landscape seem inferior to Gulmarg.
Even the village mosques were architecturally attractive. Local people say they are equally beautiful inside. As we drove further, the natural beauty increased—but so too did the visible poverty of the people.
By about 2:30 p.m., hunger had begun to make itself felt. Near Doodhpathri we reached Chillan Village, where Shakeel had already made arrangements for us to have lunch at the home of Farida and Shabbir.
The couple earned their livelihood by running a food stall for tourists visiting Doodhpathri. Their entire family welcomed us warmly. We were seated in a comfortable hall, provided with quilts to keep warm, and given a traditional kangri (an earthen fire-pot kept beneath clothing for warmth).
Farida served us a welcome drink of fruit juice before inviting us to wash our hands with water poured from a traditional earthen pitcher.
Lunch consisted of freshly prepared mustard greens (sarson ka saag), thin maize rotis fried in pure ghee, homemade paneer curry, pickle, and curd.
Fresh vegetables from the village, warm rotis generously spread with cow’s ghee, and home-cooked simplicity made the meal unforgettable.
As we talked, we learned that the closure of Doodhpathri had left the family unemployed.
Shabbir now worked as a daily-wage mason’s helper whenever work was available. Farida had taken up delicate needle embroidery on Pashmina shawls. One shawl took nearly twelve days to complete, earning only a modest income, and even that work was irregular.
After lunch, we offered them what we felt was an appropriate contribution before taking leave.
Softly, almost hesitantly, Farida said,
“Sir, please tell the Government to reopen Doodhpathri for tourism. Our children study in a government school, but ever since tourism stopped, our livelihood has vanished. Earlier, after meeting our daily expenses, we could earn ₹500 to ₹1,000 a day. Now we worry about feeding our children. Shabbir may find occasional work as a mason’s helper, but if tourism remains closed, who will build houses? For us, earning enough to feed our children is our first duty. We are Indians. What do we have to do with Pakistan?”
Their household consisted of eight members—husband and wife, two children, two sisters, and elderly parents—all dependent on a livelihood that had suddenly disappeared.
Farida and Shabbir are only one among thousands of Kashmiri families whose income depends entirely on tourism.
Following the Pahalgam tragedy, the Government temporarily closed around forty-five tourist destinations for security reasons. While the decision may have been necessary from a security perspective, it has also pushed thousands of already poor Kashmiri families into even greater hardship.
India is a strong nation, fully capable of dealing with both internal and external threats. The sentiment one repeatedly hears from ordinary people is that the situation should be normalised as quickly as possible, tourist security further strengthened, and tourist destinations reopened in phases so that thousands of Kashmiri families can once again earn their livelihood.
By evening, the thrill of Gulmarg, the beauty of the Magam–Doodhpathri road, and even the lingering taste of sarson ka saag and makki ki roti had faded from my mind.
Instead, I found myself thinking only of the suffering of Kashmir’s poor families.
Their welfare occupied my thoughts.
Shakeel summed up the feelings of many local people.
“Those who killed the innocent people in Pahalgam were not Muslims—they were murderers. Even burning them alive would be too light a punishment. They destroyed twenty-six families directly, but by attacking tourism they also snatched away the livelihoods of thousands of Kashmiri families and deprived countless children of their daily bread. Their real objective was to destroy Kashmir’s tourism, and sadly, they succeeded. Who knows when better days will return?”
Punamchand
Srinagar
4 May 2025
0 comments:
Post a Comment