Kashmir: The Beauty and the Reality
Anyway, if I were to put my six-day journey down on paper in chronological order, it would begin with my arrival in Jammu. If you travel to other cities in India, you immediately realize, the moment you reach Jammu, that you have entered a rather difficult place. Your SIM cards stop working even before you reach Jammu, as though you have crossed into another country.
I knew this beforehand, so I had already switched my Jio SIM to postpaid online through the MyJio app. But even that didn’t work. Now look at the logic behind this: you were required to visit their store to get the connection converted to postpaid so that KYC could be completed—which means they hand over the SIM only after biometric verification, but apparently that verification does not count as KYC.
Fine, if KYC is so essential, then how is it that you can get a brand-new prepaid SIM at that very moment through exactly the same process? What security standard suddenly becomes applicable there?
So, the very first problem is simply getting your phone to work, because without it, you are practically helpless. The second problem is getting from Jammu to the Valley. First, you have to catch something from here to get there, and then find another mode of transport from there to wherever you actually want to go. In other words, you have to go through a little hassle before you can finally find transportation that takes you to Srinagar—or wherever else you are headed.
There is, of course, another way to reach Kashmir: you can fly directly to Srinagar Airport. But even there, during peak season, getting a ticket at short notice can be difficult, and the fares are often two or three times higher than usual. Then, the moment you step out of the airport, you have another struggle ahead of you—getting to your actual destination.
What exactly that struggle looks like will become clear in the two-part posts that follow. It is nowhere near as easy as the YouTubers who make travel videos here keep making it look.
Another option is to travel in your own car, but even that comes with its own problems. At several places, you may face unnecessary checks and unofficial charges, and at some points you simply won’t be allowed to drive any further. This is because local taxis operate in certain areas and are required to be registered with the local taxi union.
So, even if you have your own vehicle, you may still have to switch to local transport to visit places such as Sonamarg, Pahalgam, Gulmarg, Chashme Shahi, and others. And that experience can sometimes be quite unpleasant.
In fact, the most convenient option is usually to book a package through a tour operator. They have their own arrangements in place, which means you generally have to deal with far fewer hassles. You may feel that their charges are high—but it is also quite possible that after trying to organize the entire trip yourself, you end up banging your head and thinking, I would have been better off hiring a tour operator in the first place.
Anyway, let’s come to the option I actually chose—and what turned out to be good or bad about it.
The two of us travelled from Lucknow to Jammu by the Jammu Tawi Express and reached Jammu in the morning. Since our booking was in Pahalgam, we had a couple of options for getting there. One was to go to the bus stand and take a bus, which would involve changing four different vehicles before reaching Pahalgam. The other was to use our pre-booked taxi or find a shared taxi, but that came with its own complications.
The pre-booked taxi quoted us around ₹8,000, which seemed too expensive. That meant the cost of travelling from Lucknow to Pahalgam by road would come to around ₹11,000, which didn’t make much sense to us.
Shared taxis to Srinagar were available, but not to Pahalgam. Even here, there were two options: take a smaller four-seater, which cost ₹1,500 per person, or a larger seven-seater, for which we would have to pay ₹1,300 per person.
We opted for the sedan because we didn’t want to travel packed into a crowded vehicle. But even after that, there was no shortage of hassles along the way.
Now let’s look at the second problem: there is no particularly convenient or well-organized government transport option for reaching Srinagar. Even with whatever options are available, you have to put up with a certain amount of inconvenience.
A railway line is being built, but for the time being, the plan is to run fancy and expensive trains such as the Vande Bharat on it. Other trains will continue to operate in two separate sections, much as they do now—one from Jammu to Udhampur and onward to Banihal, and the other from Sangaldan through Srinagar to Baramulla.
To reach the Valley from Jammu, you have to cross major mountain ranges, including Patnitop—not a place here, but a mountain range—and the Pir Panjal. This is also the most frustrating part of the journey. The road is in poor condition at several points and becomes even more dangerous during the rainy season.
By the time we reached Qazigund, my wife had fallen quite ill and had vomited several times along the way. It is the kind of route—stretching across an entire mountain range—where you eventually feel almost helpless. You feel trapped. A thought keeps running through your mind: What would happen if something went wrong here? What would you do next?
After finally crossing the mountain range, we reached Qazigund, from where the road becomes straight, flat, and much better. That stretch passed without any trouble, but the road ahead was about to become difficult again.
There were three of us in the taxi who were headed to Pahalgam, but the taxi still had to continue to Srinagar. The driver dropped us at a three-way junction in Anantnag, telling us that we would easily find a taxi to Pahalgam from there. But we stood there for quite some time, and still couldn’t find any transport going to Pahalgam.
Now let’s understand problem number three: transportation in Kashmir is extremely poor, and there doesn’t seem to be much government control over it either. Most of it is in the hands of transport unions, and their attitude can be quite different toward locals and outsiders.
Take Lucknow, for example. The moment you step out of your house, you can find cycle rickshaws, e-rickshaws, autos, tempos, city buses, or services such as Ola and Uber. You also generally know in advance how much you are expected to pay for your journey.
Except for a few exceptions, the fares are more or less fixed. There may be some minor variation, but nothing dramatic. Here, however, only a handful of minibuses operate in the name of public buses, and you can neither plan a journey around them nor rely on them in an emergency.
For the most part, taxis— mainly Taveras— are what you have to depend on. If you want to hire one exclusively for yourself, the driver may quote you a fare ten times higher simply because you are an outsider. And if it is a shared taxi, they may not even be willing to let you in once they see that you are from outside.
Only in Srinagar will you find e-rickshaws or auto-rickshaws in addition to these. But even there, the moment they see that you are an outsider or a tourist, they can quote you fares four or five times higher than the usual rate.
When we finally got fed up, we asked an auto-rickshaw driver about it. He told us that taxis for Pahalgam were not available from there and that we would have to go to the Pahalgam taxi stand. It was only a short distance away, but since we couldn’t walk there with all our luggage, we asked him to drop us. He charged us ₹100 and dropped us practically just four steps away.
At the taxi stand, we were told that there was a traffic jam in Pahalgam and that nobody was willing to go there. If we wanted to travel, we would have to book a taxi exclusively for ourselves.
I asked how much that would cost, and he immediately quoted ₹3,000.
Anantnag to Pahalgam is only about 40 kilometres.
I probably would have paid the amount despite the inconvenience, but just then a shared taxi driver agreed to take us, so we went with him.
We could see the traffic jam even before entering Pahalgam, so the driver took the taxi up onto a mountain track normally used by people travelling on horseback or by mule. But because of the traffic jam, people had started using that route as well, and it was jammed too.
Somehow, we made it to the Pahalgam market. By then, my wife was in pretty bad shape, and seeing her condition, I was getting sick myself from the stress and anxiety.
The taxi was supposed to continue further into Pahalgam, but the driver suddenly started arguing and refused to go any farther. Instead, he turned the vehicle around and began heading back. In the end, we had no choice but to get out right there.
There is a man in Srinagar named Sameer Bhai, an acquaintance of a close friend of mine. When he was told that his friend’s younger brother was coming to Kashmir for a trip, he took full responsibility, saying that he would arrange everything for us—the hotel, the vehicle, and whatever else we needed.
But when we finally reached Pahalgam, we had no idea which hotel we were supposed to go to. On top of that, our phones were still not working. We couldn’t call anyone, and no one could call us either. So there we were, standing in the middle of the market, exhausted, confused, and completely at a loss. Eventually, I had no choice but to buy a new SIM card right then and get it activated. Only after that could I finally speak to them.
Pahalgam itself is essentially divided into two sections along the same main road, with a gap of roughly one to one-and-a-half kilometres between them. We then learned that our hotel was in the farther section.
The next problem was finding some way to get there. Had my wife not been unwell, we would simply have walked. One or one-and-a-half kilometres is hardly a distance that cannot be covered on foot. But given her condition, that wasn’t really an option.
After considerable difficulty, we finally found a Tavera driver willing to take us further. He charged ₹300 for that tiny distance— even though he was already heading in the same direction. It wasn’t as though he had made a special trip just for us.
We finally made it to the hotel somehow, but the condition of the room immediately put us off. In Pahalgam, many people have essentially converted their homes into hotels and advertise them as though they were proper, high-end establishments. There is a large network of brokers operating here for arranging both vehicles and accommodation, and they are all interconnected. That is how these properties keep getting customers.
That doesn’t mean they are particularly cheap either—charges are generally ₹2,000 or more. There is no proper staff, and the rooms have virtually none of the facilities you would expect from a hotel.
Since Sameer Bhai had arranged this place for us, I complained to him, and he gave the hotel owner a dressing-down. Perhaps feeling a little embarrassed, the owner moved us the next day to a somewhat better room, which was in a separate building away from the main house.
Now, coming to Pahalgam itself—it is built along both sides of the road that runs beside the Lidder River. The main Pahalgam market area looks somewhat more developed and standardised. You get views of high mountains from all around. It is considerably colder than Srinagar, and Pahalgam was the first place during our Kashmir trip where I actually needed a warmer and a jacket.
From here, you can visit four main places, with two of them lying on the same route—Betaab Valley and Chandanwari. Aru Valley lies on another route. Then there is Baisaran Valley, which is up on the hillside just behind Pahalgam, and you have to hire a mule to get there.
The mule operators also do their best to take you for as much money as they can. How much you can bargain them down depends on your negotiating skills. If you are good at it, you can bring the price down to as little as ₹400 per person. The fixed rate displayed there is, for all practical purposes, just for show.
For Aru Valley, Betaab Valley, and Chandanwari, you have to go to the taxi stand, which is located between the two populated sections of Pahalgam. There are different rates for different vehicles and different routes. You can choose to visit just one destination, two of them, or all three.
If there are only one or two of you, the cost works out to be considerably higher. But if you are a group of four to six, the same fare becomes much more economical. For all three places, you should expect to pay at least ₹2,500.
Since Chandanwari had been closed due to the ongoing Amarnath pilgrimage, I chose the Aru Valley and Betaab Valley route for ₹2,000.
We went to Aru Valley, and all I can say about it is that it is a nice place—but more from a picnic point of view. The problem is that the taxi driver gives you only one hour there; beyond that, he charges extra. And the place is barely 12 kilometres away.
From there, we were supposed to return and then go to Betaab Valley. But there was a traffic jam on that route as well. When I mentioned it, the driver told me that if I decided to go, I would have to pay the full fare as soon as we entered that route— and even then, we might not be able to reach Betaab Valley at all because of the jam.
Obviously, in such a situation, who would choose to go ahead? I decided against it as well, and the driver charged me ₹1,500 just for the trip to Aru Valley.
Where we were staying, there was no facility for a medical emergency. The nearest one was in the main Pahalgam area, and the problem was that the only road connecting the two remained congested most of the time. There was no telling how long it might take to get there. And even finding transport from our side was difficult. Only Taveras operate there, and they are generally reluctant to pick up tourists. You would have to call a private taxi or hire one of those Taveras exclusively, and even for that short distance, they would charge ₹200–300.
As for food, at least in Pahalgam, it was strictly third-rate. You could find some non-vegetarian options as street food. In Kashmir, you generally won’t find roti as an option in most places, while the rice they serve is the thick, coarse variety that simply didn’t go down our throats. We stayed in Pahalgam for two days, but when it came to food, the only thing that gave us any satisfaction was chicken tikka. Otherwise, whether Hindu or Muslim, vegetarian or non-vegetarian, the food we encountered was simply terrible.
Early on the morning of the third day, we left for Srinagar. There are two options for travelling from Pahalgam to Srinagar as well: either take a shared taxi and make your way to Anantnag, dealing with all the hassle along the way, or book a private taxi. The latter can cost somewhere between ₹3,000 and ₹3,500.
We didn’t want to take the Anantnag route, so we hired our own taxi and reached Srinagar. By then, however, half the day had already gone, so we decided to spend the remaining time visiting Dal Lake.
Dal Lake is spread across a fairly large area, but one of its sides runs along a road, somewhat like Mumbai’s Marine Drive. At regular intervals, there are gates where shikara operators gather. The moment you arrive, they will surround you and start pestering you—it can be quite difficult to get rid of them.
There is another thing you should understand here. Everywhere you go, you will be told that we’ll show you this many points, that many points, and so on. But what exactly do they mean by these “points”?
This is where such-and-such place was used for a film shoot; that film was shot over there; so-and-so used to come here; somebody did something there; this is the floating market; that is the Meena Bazaar.
In reality, unless you have a certain childish fascination with such things, these “points” don’t really mean much.
Simply put, if you want to see the lake, just say so. There are islands scattered across it, villages built on some of them, a floating market, and a permanent Meena Market. And every few steps, some salesman will come up to you in his boat—someone will offer to take your photograph, someone else will offer tea or coffee, and another will try to sell you shawls or clothes.
The shikara operators will initially quote ₹3,000–4,000, but you can usually bring them down to around ₹2,000. In our case, they eventually extracted ₹2,500 after plenty of pleading and bargaining. And whether it is the shikara operators or the horsemen, you are expected to pay the agreed amount and then give a separate tip as well.
There is a tiny island in the lake known as Char Chinar, named after the four chinar trees planted there. Motorboats take you to the island and can charge up to ₹4,000 for the trip. They will quote even more initially, but personally, I didn’t find anything particularly fascinating about it. Seeing the lake itself is quite enough.
It was a six-day trip, and three days had already passed. For the remaining three days, Sameer Bhai arranged a car for us at ₹3,000 per day. Although they call it a “per-day” arrangement, for us, visiting one destination in a day was more than enough.
The plan was simple: one day for Sonamarg, one for Gulmarg, and one day for exploring Srinagar locally. We then learned that so many restrictions had been imposed in Sonamarg because of the ongoing pilgrimage that there was little point in going there anymore. So, instead of Sonamarg, we decided that visiting Doodhpathri would be a better option. It is in Budgam district, around 45 kilometres from Srinagar.
Here too, public transport means changing taxis three or four times, hanging on through the journey and dealing with all the associated hassles—or you can hire your own vehicle. Even then, there is one thing that will irritate you: while vehicles can technically go right up to the main points at these tourist destinations, a “main gate” has been established at each place about one-and-a-half to two kilometres before the actual destination.
So you either walk that entire distance or get off and become fodder for the horsemen or ATV operators. An ATV is basically a kind of four-wheeled bike. And each horse or ATV is meant for a single person.
There is no guarantee what the horseman will quote you, while the ATV operator will quote roughly twice as much. So, even if you manage to negotiate a horse ride down to a minimum of ₹500 per person, a family of four would still have to spend ₹2,000 just to get from the Doodhpathri gate to the river— a distance of barely one-and-a-half to two kilometres.
Think of Kashmir as a valley surrounded by mountains, roughly shaped like a boat, with Srinagar situated more or less in the middle. Whichever direction you set off in, you will eventually reach the same mountain ranges, roughly 40 to 60 kilometres away, where you will either find a small settlement or some place that has been developed as a tourist attraction.
When it comes to destinations, you basically keep changing direction and travelling to these same points. Individually, such places may seem attractive enough as standalone destinations, but once you have seen several of them, it becomes difficult to tell one from another. For the most part, they are all more or less the same.
One more thing you should keep in mind: your driver will act friendly and sympathetic, as though he is genuinely on your side, but in reality, they are all part of the same system—and they support one another under all circumstances. The driver will tell you nothing beforehand and then simply hand you over to a crowd that is waiting to make money out of you.
Everywhere, people have formed unions to ensure that no one operates outside the system. The same thing happened to us. Had the driver told us beforehand, we could have got out of the car, walked ahead, and decided for ourselves what we wanted to do and how we wanted to do it. Instead, he simply delivered us as easy prey to the horse operators, who immediately descended upon us, making it almost impossible to get rid of them. And remember, this is not a place where you can afford to get into arguments with people.
Everywhere, they market the place by listing various “points”—we’ll show you six points, twelve points, and so on. That may mean something to an extremely film-obsessed tourist, but for people like us, it means nothing. Why would we care which film was shot where, or who came and sat at what particular spot?
At Sonamarg, for instance, Thajiwas or Point Zero may actually be the main attractions. Likewise, at Doodhpathri, the main thing is the Shaliganga River, which comes down from the mountains and flows over the rocks. You basically need to go as far as the river, which is perhaps around one-and-a-half kilometres away—and they can ask for ₹2,500 per person for that ride.
They will market all these “points” as though they are essential. If possible, ignore that sales pitch. Get out of your vehicle before the gate and walk ahead. If someone starts getting too pushy, simply tell them that you have already seen everything and have only come here to sit around and have a picnic.
Once you are inside and find a horse operator who is not part of the union network, you may be able to hire a horse for around ₹500. Getting it for less than that is difficult.
We, however, had been handed over to the union operators by our driver, so we ended up spending ₹2,000 for that short distance— or, if you prefer, for roughly two hours of riding.
The road to Doodhpathri, for the most part, is pretty terrible. You have to make your way through villages along a narrow, broken-down road, and on the way from Srinagar to Doodhpathri, you have to pay tolls at five different places.
It is frustrating to see them collecting money every four kilometres or so, while providing virtually no facilities in return. This is something you will find irritating throughout Kashmir: considering how much money is collected from visitors—most of which ultimately goes to the government— the facilities provided do not even come close to matching what you are being charged for.
So, relying on the horses and going from one “point” to another, we eventually reached the river. The part actually called Doodhpathri is basically just this small stretch of the river. The background is reasonably scenic, so you can take a few photographs and at least feel that you got something in return for the money you spent.
Meanwhile, the horseman can remain on your head the entire time, constantly keeping track of you and your movements. We spent around 45 minutes there, enjoyed ourselves for a while, and then headed back. We encountered a traffic jam on the way back as well, but we still managed to reach the hotel by around 3 p.m. Leaving aside the other expenses, the round-trip cost of getting there came to about ₹5,000.
On the third day in Srinagar, we visited Gulmarg. For those who don't know, the raw beauty that Gulmarg once had is largely gone now. The main area has been fenced off in the name of the golf course, while the places actually worth exploring lie farther behind, where you cannot simply walk.
The main attraction here is the Gondola. Just as at Doodhpathri, a gate has been installed about one to one-and-a-half kilometres before the Gondola station, beyond which vehicles are not allowed. You either walk the distance or take an ATV. The ATV operators may charge ₹3,000–5,000 for taking you around the various “points,” or you can pay ₹500–1,000 simply to get to the Gondola station. If you are physically able to walk, you can obviously go on foot.
At the entrance, you will find a whole crowd of ATV and horse operators waiting for you, and they will surround you as soon as you arrive. These are local Gujjars, and you should be prepared for a fairly aggressive approach. They may pester you relentlessly, and if you are sitting in a vehicle with the windows open, there is even a risk of them snatching a chain or purse. In any situation, getting into a confrontation with them is simply not worth the risk.
There is, however, a workaround: if you have a legitimate reason— say, you have a Gondola ticket but cannot walk because of a problem with your leg— the vehicle can sometimes be allowed to proceed toward the Gondola station. But our driver told us that it wasn't safe to rely on that. He offered to drop us at the gate and pick us up from there if we paid him an additional ₹400.
Think about that: this was the same driver who had been hired for ₹3,000 a day, and whom we had effectively freed after spending only half a day at one destination. Had I been travelling alone, I could have walked one or two kilometres— or even four or five if necessary. But because of my wife's condition, we paid the additional ₹400 for him to take us to the gate and pick us up again.
Beyond the gate, there was an extremely long queue for the Gondola. It took us about an hour just to get through it.
The Gondola operates in two phases. The first takes you up to the high mountain directly ahead; the second takes you further up to the higher summit beyond it, where you can still find snow in June. The first phase costs around ₹800, while the second costs more. However, tickets have to be booked about a month in advance.
You may still manage to get a ticket for the first phase, but getting one for the second phase at short notice is difficult because its passenger-handling capacity is lower. And even after completing the first phase, you have to stand in another long queue for the second phase.
When you take the Gondola ride, one thought inevitably crosses your mind: the government must be earning several lakhs every day from this attraction. But in return, what facilities do they actually provide apart from the ride itself? Practically nothing.
There isn’t even enough seating space for people waiting. From a security point of view, there is hardly any police or military presence. Across all three stations, there are only a handful of employees. If someone jumps the queue, behaves badly, gets into an argument, or an accident happens, you are basically left to manage the situation yourself. And as you walk around, every couple of minutes someone or the other will approach you trying to sell something. There seems to be no control over any of it.
As for the Gondola ride itself, some people may find it “awesome,” but to me it felt little more than taking a glass elevator up a building. If there had been some kind of deep gorge or something along the route that made you feel a little scared, it might have provided some sense of adventure. Instead, it felt like being carried comfortably up a slope, with virtually no sense of risk at all.
Of course, other people may have a different experience, but personally, I didn't find it particularly impressive—at least not considering the amount of money you spend. The place itself is certainly beautiful. In June, the greenery is spectacular, while during winter, the snow creates a completely different kind of experience. I suspect Gulmarg and the Gondola are more enjoyable during the winter season, although in that case, going all the way to Phase Two of the Gondola hardly seems necessary. You can find snow as far down as Tangmarg.
However, had we travelled during winter, our taxi would have been stopped at Tangmarg itself. From there, we would have had to take a local taxi further up, and then from the gate to the Gondola station, we would have had to use either a horse or an ATV. In other words, we would have ended up paying at three different stages just to reach the Gondola.
Because we paid the driver that additional “convenience fee,” we had to pay for two of those stages anyway.
There is also a tourist “point” at Tangmarg where the driver will simply take you and hand you over to the horse and ATV operators. If you want to see whatever they claim is worth seeing there—much like the attractions you encounter higher up—you can spend another ₹500–1,000 per person.
I wasn't interested, so I refused to become another easy target for them.
We left the hotel at around 8:30 in the morning and were back by 2:30 p.m. In between, we spent around ₹5,000 just on the Gondola ride and the associated expenses. If you include the Tangmarg “point,” and if you want to explore the valley further, add another ₹3,500–6,000 per person to the cost. And with that, our third day in Srinagar came to an end.
We spent the remaining days mostly at the hotel, venturing out only for food and drinks.
There are two more things you should understand about food and getting around here. Food is bland in most places, and since roti is not really preferred here, you will mostly find rice. Around Khayam Chowk and Lal Chowk, however, there are some good vegetarian and non-vegetarian restaurants where you can get decent food, including roti.
As for transportation in Srinagar, besides taxis—basically Tavera-type vehicles—you will find small buses, auto-rickshaws, and e-rickshaws. But leaving aside the buses, which are few in number and operate only on limited routes, the treatment you receive from the other transport operators can be quite different depending on whether you are a local or an outsider.
They may ask you ₹50–100 even for taking you just a few hundred metres. Even in shared vehicles, where locals may pay only ₹10–20 per passenger, you can be charged considerably more. If you somehow manage to avoid being identified as a tourist and actually get somewhere for ₹10–20, you may end up regretting it when you try to return. After that, they simply make the rules—you don't.
Something else about Srinagar came back to me. When I was here thirty years ago, I hardly saw any Hindus at all. Even today, there is a general perception that the Valley is inhabited exclusively by Muslims. But that isn't really the case.
From Pahalgam to Srinagar, I saw plenty of Hindus. They have their own shops and hotels, and they also work as employees in other people's shops, hotels, and businesses. There are several restaurants around Khayam Chowk where I have stayed and eaten, and I've had food at places run by both communities.
The food in Pahalgam was terrible at both kinds of places, but in Srinagar, it is perfectly fine. You can get roti, and the food actually has some flavour.
In the evening, we went out to explore Lal Chowk. Since it is the main commercial area, finding transport is relatively easy, although even for a distance of two to two-and-a-half kilometres, they may charge ₹100–150.
By comparison, in Lucknow, you can book an auto through Ola or Uber and travel five to seven kilometres for around ₹100. But, anyway, this isn't something that bothers you quite as much.
Lal Chowk is a nice place. Looking around, it reminded me of Hazratganj in Lucknow, but I actually found Lal Chowk better than Hazratganj. The reason is that Lal Chowk has proper arrangements for people who come there to spend time—places to stand, walk around, and sit—which Hazratganj doesn't really have.
The plan for the following day was to visit the Mughal Gardens and, at the end, make our way back via Hazratbal.
At one of the gardens here, Chashme Shahi, the same system is followed: your vehicle is stopped about one-and-a-half to two kilometres before the actual destination, and then you have to hire one of their local Travellers for that short distance to reach Chashme Shahi. From there, you can continue onward to Pari Mahal.
Right where the vehicle stand is located, you will find the Botanical Garden directly opposite it, so you can visit that as well—or visit it instead.
Otherwise, among these four places, Nishat Bagh is the only one that is actually substantial and worth seeing. Pari Mahal and Chashme Shahi are relatively small, while Shalimar Bagh seems to be slowly crumbling under its own neglect.
As a child, I had certain images of Shalimar Bagh from my textbooks permanently etched in my mind. I wanted to see it as that beautiful garden filled with fountains and surrounded by towering chinar trees. But just as it appeared to me thirty years ago, during what seemed to be its worst period of decay, that is exactly how I found it this time as well.
The only difference is that they seem to have brought in gardeners and managed to add a little greenery here and there. But the place is still just a shadow of what it once was.
If you have come to Srinagar, it is certainly worth visiting Shalimar Bagh once. But don't expect to come away feeling particularly happy after seeing it.
If you have gone to Hazratbal hoping to see the Prophet’s hair, let me tell you that it is not put on display regularly. It is brought out for public viewing only on certain special occasions. Otherwise, you can walk around the complex, watch women offering prayers inside the mosque, or offer prayers yourself if you wish. There are also plenty of shops, restaurants, and other establishments along the road outside, so you can eat, drink, and shop as well.
If you want to try something different, you can sample Kashmiri cuisine, especially the Wazwan dishes. But people from Uttar Pradesh or Punjab may not necessarily take to it. Personally, I found it almost like a punishment.
And that, more or less, brought our six-day Kashmir trip to an end. We left the next morning for our return journey, which was somewhat difficult because the Amarnath Yatra had already begun.
Anyway, if you are planning to travel around Kashmir, keep a few things in mind. If possible, go through a tour operator. They generally have their own arrangements in place, which can minimise a lot of the hassle. Avoid getting caught up with local travel agents. Collect the contact numbers of people who have already travelled there; that alone can reduce your expenses by as much as 40 percent.
And don't assume that your Kashmiri taxi driver is your friend or well-wisher—although there may certainly be some good exceptions. Most of them are part of the same network. Find out in advance exactly where they are taking you and what the arrangement is. And, wherever possible, get out of the vehicle some distance before the destination and walk the rest of the way yourself. Once you are there, you can decide for yourself whether you want to deal with the horse operators, ATV operators, guides, or anyone else.
If you can walk two or three kilometres and are comfortable trekking, rely on your own feet. If you depend on horses and vehicles everywhere, you can end up spending a considerable amount of money. In fact, the reason your vehicle is often not allowed to go all the way to the main destination is largely to create business for these operators.
Everywhere, these “points” are used as part of the marketing, even though most of them have little real significance. Focus on the main attraction, negotiate a price for that, and that's more than enough.
And if you are from the plains of North India and are used to eating roti, you will find the food bland in most places. Only a handful of places will actually satisfy your taste buds. Of course, if you enjoy trying different flavours and cuisines, that's another matter altogether.
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