The moment the plane descended over the snow-capped Pir Panjal range, my heart fluttered with a mix of excitement and disbelief. I was finally in Kashmir—a land I had only dreamed of through poetry and postcards. The crisp November air greeted me as I stepped out of Srinagar airport, the golden hues of autumn leaves painting the landscape. My four-day journey was about to unfold, and little did I know, it would leave an indelible mark on my soul.
First Breath in Kashmir
The moment I stepped out of the plane at Srinagar Airport, it felt like I had been holding my breath for years—and only now, in this crisp November air, was I finally allowed to exhale.
Delhi had been a haze of honking cars and humid smog, but here, the sky was a piercing blue, the mountains stood like silent guardians, and the cold, pine-scented wind rushed into my lungs like a long-lost friend. I closed my eyes for a second, just to feel it—the lightness, the clarity, the sheer relief of breathing freely.
A Kashmiri man in a pheran chuckled as he walked past me. “First time?” he asked, noticing my dazed smile. I nodded, still too overwhelmed to speak. He grinned. “You’ll never forget this air.”
He was right.
The drive from the airport to The Solar Residency was a blur of saffron fields, wooden bridges over icy streams, and the occasional glimpse of a snow-dusted peak. But all I could think about was that first breath—how it had felt like waking up after a lifetime of sleep.
Kashmir, I already knew, wasn’t just a place. It was a feeling. And I was ready to drown in it.
Day 1: Arrival at The Solar Residency & A Shikara Ride on Dal Lake
I checked into The Solar Residency, a charming hotel nestled in the quiet, tree-lined neighborhood of Rajbagh. The warm Kashmiri hospitality began the moment I stepped inside—staff offering kahwa (saffron-infused tea) as I admired the wooden architecture and the view of the Zabarwan Mountains from my window.
After settling in, I set out for my first real Kashmiri experience—a shikara ride on Dal Lake. The wooden boat glided silently over the mirror-like waters, passing by floating gardens and vendors selling saffron, spices, and more kahwa from their tiny boats. The mist hung low over the lake, and the distant call of the azan from a mosque added to the surreal beauty.
My shikara-walla, Ghulam, shared stories of the lake’s history, pointing at the crumbling yet elegant wooden houses along the shore. “They call this Venice of the East,” he said with pride. I sipped on the fragrant kahwa, its warmth seeping into my bones as the golden light of dusk danced on the water.
For dinner, I returned to The Solar Residency’s in-house restaurant, where they served an authentic Kashmiri Wazwan feast—Rogan Josh, Yakhni, and Gushtaba, each dish richer and more aromatic than the last. The melt-in-the-mouth Gushtaba, floating in creamy yogurt gravy, was unlike anything I had ever tasted. The chef, noticing my delight, insisted I try their Phirni—a delicate rice pudding that felt like a hug from Kashmir itself.
As I retired to my room, the reflections of the moon on Dal Lake, visible from my window, made me feel like I was floating in a dream.
Day 2: Sonamarg – The Golden Meadow and a Trek to Remember
The next morning, after a hearty breakfast at the hotel (freshly baked lavasa bread with apricot jam and more kahwa), I left early for Sonamarg, a two-hour drive from Srinagar. The name, meaning “Meadow of Gold,” lived up to its reputation. Surrounded by towering snow-clad peaks, the valley was a breathtaking expanse of golden grasslands and icy streams.
I decided to trek towards Thajiwas Glacier, guided by a local named Yusuf. The crisp mountain air, the crunch of snow under my boots, and the occasional sight of nomadic Gujjar shepherds with their flocks made the journey magical. Halfway up, Yusuf brewed noon chai (pink Kashmiri tea) on a portable stove, its salty warmth reviving me instantly.
Standing at the foot of the glacier, I felt humbled by nature’s grandeur. The silence was profound—only the distant murmur of melting ice and the occasional whistle of the wind. On the way back, Yusuf plucked wild apples from a tree, their tart sweetness a perfect end to the trek.
Exhausted but exhilarated, I returned to The Solar Residency, where a hot shower and a cozy meal of Harissa (slow-cooked meat delicacy) awaited me. The staff, noticing my sun-kissed cheeks, chuckled and said, “First time in Sonamarg?” I nodded, too tired to speak but too happy to sleep.
Day 3: Doodhpathri – Kashmir’s Hidden Paradise and a Culinary Adventure
Doodhpathri, or “Valley of Milk,” was my destination on the third day—a lesser-known gem. The drive through pine forests and rolling meadows was straight out of a fairy tale. Unlike Gulmarg or Pahalgam, Doodhpathri was blissfully untouched, its meadows covered in a light frost.
I wandered barefoot on the soft grass, the cold seeping into my skin, while local shepherds played their flutes. A small stall served Makki ki Roti with Sarson ka Saag—a Punjabi-Kashmiri fusion that tasted heavenly in the chilly weather.
That evening, back at The Solar Residency, I sat by the fireplace in the lounge, sipping kehwa and listening to the soft strumming of a rabab (a local instrument) played by a staff member. The warmth of the fire, the aroma of spices, and the soulful music wrapped around me like a Kashmiri pheran (traditional cloak).
Day 4: Srinagar Unplugged – Orchards, Mosques, and Café Hopping
My last day was reserved for exploring Srinagar at leisure. After breakfast at the hotel (their anda paratha was divine), I started with the almond orchards of Badamwari, where the last of autumn’s golden leaves clung to the branches. Walking through the aisles of apple trees, I plucked a few leftover fruits, their sweetness lingering on my tongue.
Next, I visited the historic Jama Masjid, its grand wooden architecture whispering tales of the past. The nearby Khanqah-e-Moula, with its intricate papier-mâché work, was a serene escape.
In the afternoon, I wandered through the Mughal Gardens—Nishat Bagh and Shalimar Bagh—their terraced lawns and cascading fountains still holding echoes of imperial grandeur. A local vendor sold me Shufta (a dry fruit delicacy), which I nibbled on while admiring the view of Dal Lake from Nishat’s highest terrace.
As the sun dipped, I found myself at Chai Jaai, a charming café by the Jhelum. Sipping on sheer chai and biting into bakarkhani (a flaky bread), I watched the river flow lazily, reflecting the fading light. The café’s walls were adorned with old photographs of Srinagar—reminders of a timeless beauty that still lingered in its streets.
Goodbye, Kashmir – A Nostalgic Farewell
Back at The Solar Residency, I packed my bags with a heavy heart. The staff, now feeling like family, gifted me a small packet of Kahwa and a handwoven Pashmina scarf. “Come back in winter,” they said. “You haven’t seen Srinagar in snow yet.”
As my flight took off the next morning, I pressed my face against the window, watching the valley shrink beneath me. Kashmir had been more than just a trip—it was an emotion. The misty mornings on Dal Lake, the crunch of snow in Sonamarg, the taste of Harissa on a cold night, and the kindness of its people had woven themselves into my heart.
Even now, months later, the memories rush back—the scent of saffron, the sound of the shikara paddle dipping into the water, the sight of the first snowfall on distant peaks. Kashmir wasn’t just a place I visited; it was a feeling I carried home.
And someday, I know, I’ll return—to relive the magic, to hear the mountains call my name again.
