A Memorable Journey to the Valley — Paradise on Earth

A Memorable Journey to the Valley — Paradise on Earth

For many of us Delhi-based Kashmiri Pandits whose families migrated from Kashmir not as part of the more recent exodus, but generations ago—the Valley continues to hold a very special place in our hearts.

It is difficult to explain the pull of a land that we know primarily through our roots, our ancestry and the stories passed down through generations. And yet, whenever we return to Kashmir, there is an inexplicable feeling of coming home.

Perhaps it is the knowledge that our ancestors once lived here. Perhaps it is the thought of what might have been had our families remained. We find ourselves imagining a life that never happened.

What profession would I and my family have pursued?

What would our economic circumstances and social standing have been?

What kind of education would we have received?

Would our lives have followed a completely different path?

There are no answers to these questions. They are perhaps best left to imagination. They will forever remain one of those intriguing mysteries of our lives.

There is, however, one regret I have always carried: I do not speak the Kashmiri language. Every time I hear the local people converse in that beautiful, familiar-sounding dialect, I feel a strange mixture of warmth and longing. I wish I could participate in those conversations and experience, even for a few moments, that deeper connection with the land of my ancestors.

I am certain that many among us share these sentiments.

And while reflecting on our own connection with Kashmir, one's heart inevitably goes out to those families who have lived through the difficult experiences of the more recent past.

My own association with Kashmir goes back to 1977. I have visited the Valley several times since then, with my longest stay being from April to November 1985, when I was deputed as a Chef to The Oberoi Palace, Srinagar, having been handpicked for the assignment by Mr. Biki Oberoi, then the Deputy Chairman of The Oberoi Group.

That experience gave me an opportunity to observe Kashmir and its people closely at a very different point in time. Over the past four decades, I have seen many changes, and there are certainly several stories and incidents I could recount. But I shall refrain from doing so here.

This is not intended to be an account of history or politics.

It is simply the story of a memorable six-day journey that brought back old memories, created new ones and, in many ways, brought me closer to my roots.

So, let me take you through our recent trip to the Valley.

DAY 1 — KHEER BHAVANI AND SONAMARG.

 

 

Kheer Bhavani

We arrived in Srinagar on an early morning flight. As planned, we set out for Sonamarg, but not before making a very important stop at Kheer Bhavani, a temple of immense significance to Kashmiri Pandits.

The visit was, as always, was deeply satisfying.

There are some places where one does not merely visit; one reconnects.

Standing there, surrounded by the familiar atmosphere and the devotion of fellow visitors, I felt that same inexplicable connection with the past. Nothing much seemed to have changed. And perhaps that was precisely what made the experience so comforting.

From Kheer Bhavani, we proceeded towards the picturesque meadows of Sonamarg.

Sonamarg has changed in some ways. A few good hotels and recognized brands have come up, but thankfully, the valley itself still retains much of its natural charm. It has, at least for now, largely escaped the kind of unchecked development that can so easily destroy the character of a destination.

The beautiful valley of meadows-Sonamarg.

The Sindhu River. Pristine and crystal clear. 

What struck us most was the warmth of the people.

The moment our names and backgrounds became known, conversations became warmer and more personal. There seemed to be a genuine recognition of a shared heritage.

The younger generation appears hopeful and ambitious, and there is a sense that people increasingly recognize the common threads that bind us together.

For me, this was one of the most beautiful aspects of the journey.

DAY 2 — DRAS, KARGIL AND THE MEMORIES OF 1999

Our next excursion was to Dras and Kargil.

The journey itself was memorable, but the real purpose was to experience, as closely as possible, the places where one of the most significant chapters in India's recent military history unfolded—the Kargil War of 1999. Tololing and Tiger Hill were among the key locations of the battle.

From the highway, the mountains do not appear particularly distant or inaccessible. But once you look at them closely, the steepness of the terrain becomes apparent. It is difficult not to pause and imagine what our soldiers went through.

 A somber and emotional moment

The Indian Army had to climb these formidable heights, often under enemy fire, while the enemy had already occupied the strategic high ground.

It is one thing to read about a battle.

It is quite another to stand beneath the very mountains where young men fought and died.

The route to Kargil takes us through the Zojila Pass, and the recently constructed tunnel has made the journey considerably easier, saving approximately an hour. The drive from Sonamarg takes around two and a half to three hours.

But if you undertake this journey, there is one place you simply must not miss—the Kargil War Memorial.

It is far more than a museum.

It is a deeply moving experience.

The discipline and organization of the Army are evident from the moment you enter. The guidelines are clearly explained, and the jawans who welcome visitors are both courteous and firm about the regulations.

There are around thirty QR codes positioned across different parts of the memorial. Once connected to the Wi-Fi, visitors can scan them and access information in both English and Hindi, allowing them to virtually relive different aspects of the war.

The Army has done a remarkable job.

Inside the museum are photographs, ammunition, uniforms, equipment and memorabilia from the war. Everything is meticulously arranged.

Yet it is not the weapons or the uniforms that affect you most.

It is the faces.

The photographs of the young soldiers and officers who never returned.

You listen to the accompanying commentary, look at those young faces and suddenly the history of 1999 becomes intensely personal.

You think of their parents.

Their wives.

Their children.

Their brothers and sisters.

And then you come across enlarged reproductions of the last letters written by some of these young men to their families.

Some wrote with quiet acceptance that they might not return.

The impact is overwhelming.

One cannot help but imagine the anguish of a family receiving such a letter, especially in an era when there were no mobile phones and communication was limited.

While many of us slept peacefully in our homes, these young men were spending their nights on freezing mountain slopes, protecting the country and preparing to make the ultimate sacrifice.

How can one not salute them?

How can one not feel grateful?

And how can one ever forget the families who gave their sons to the nation?

As I write this even now, the emotions return.

If I have expressed myself too strongly, I make no apology. I believe that when it comes to acknowledging the courage and sacrifice of our armed forces, the more we say, the less it still seems to be.

We drove back towards Sonamarg carrying with us something far more lasting than photographs.

We carried the memory of the men who had fought there.

On the way, we stopped at Zojila Pass.

The landscape is spectacular.

Interestingly, the photographers who once stood there with their cameras, promising to take and immediately print your photographs, have disappeared. They have been replaced by a younger generation armed with mobile phones, offering to make reels for tourists.

And they do a rather good job!

For around ₹150, it is hardly an extravagance. Given the short tourist season and their dependence on visitors, I felt it was worth indulging them.

So yes—if you visit Kashmir, let them make that little reel.

Years later, you may be glad you did.

DAY 3 — BACK TO SRINAGAR

The following day, we drove back from Sonamarg to Srinagar.

On the way, we stopped by the riverside for some freshly squeezed apple juice—a simple experience, but somehow exactly right for Kashmir.

We checked into Nadis, a charming, homely property close to the Mughal Gardens.

Later that day, we revisited Shalimar and Nishat Gardens.

There is something timeless about these gardens. Perhaps it is the combination of the mountains, water, carefully laid-out terraces and the history surrounding them.

Or perhaps it is simply the feeling of being in Kashmir again.

My parents on the Dal 1952 and us on the Dal 2026

 

DAY 4 — PAHALGAM, BETAAB AND ARU

The next morning, we drove to Pahalgam and visited Betaab and Aru Valleys.

Most of us would remember Betaab Valley because of the film Betaab, which was shot there more than three decades ago.

Betaab Valley

The scenery is still spectacular, and standing there inevitably brings back memories of the Kashmir that we grew up seeing in films and photographs.

We had our favourite Kashmiri lunch at ITC Welcome Hotel – Pine N Peak. Nadru, Haak, Dum aloo, Razmah. Oh, my mouth waters at the mere thought. It is a magnificent property, beautifully located, with lush green lawns, well-appointed rooms and excellent guest facilities.

Pine n Peak-a must visit resort

Our stay was brief, as we had to return to Srinagar.

There was still much to see—and, perhaps more importantly, much to remember.

DAY 5 — DAL LAKE, TEMPLES AND A WALK DOWN MEMORY LANE

For our final full day, we checked into The Taj Hotel.

 

It is a relatively new property, and, in my view, its location is perhaps even better than that of The Lalit.

The views are spectacular.

From the hotel, the entire expanse of Dal Lake is visible, and from the room one gets a magnificent view of the Valley.

We visited Sharka Devi Temple on Hari Parbat and Hazratbal.

The two places are obviously very different in character and tradition, yet both visits were deeply meaningful in their own way.

Later in the afternoon came perhaps the most nostalgic part of the entire trip for me.

I returned to The Lalit, formerly The Oberoi Palace for a cup of kahwa where I had invited a friend who is from Kashmir and has also worked at The Oberoi before me.

Enjoying a kahwa at the Lalit Grand Palace

This was the hotel where I had worked as a Chef in 1985.

Walking through the property after all these years was, quite simply, a walk down memory lane. Memories have a strange way of returning.

A doorway. A corridor. A view. A familiar corner.

Suddenly, forty years disappear.

My dear friend and brother.

For a few moments, you are no longer the person you are today. You are transported back to the person you were then—a young hotelier, working at The Oberoi Palace, learning, experiencing and building a career.

The hotel remains magnificent in its setting and has, over the decades, enjoyed its own place in Bollywood history.

I stood there for a while, remembering.

And feeling grateful.

There was another pleasant discovery that day, a charming new restaurant by the lake, Chakosi Makosi, on the main road running parallel to Dal Lake.

It is a lovely café, particularly popular with the younger and trendy local crowd, and serves mainly Continental cuisine.

It is another indication of the changing face of Srinagar.

DAY 6 — LEAVING, BUT NOT REALLY LEAVING

And then came our final day.

As always happens towards the end of a holiday, there was some last-minute shopping.

We bought typical Kashmiri attire—phirans, shawls, colorful traditional Nehru jackets and a few other reminders of the Valley.

But shopping was hardly the important part.

By now, we had become immersed in the experience.

What stayed with us was the warmth of the people, the beauty of the mountains, the serenity of the lakes, the spirituality of the temples, the memory of the soldiers at Kargil—and, for me personally, the memories of a Kashmir I had first known more than four decades ago.

Yes, there is substantial security on the roads. Yet, from our experience and from what people told us, Srinagar today feels safe and welcoming.

The warmth and hospitality we experienced from the local people were particularly touching.

Perhaps it was because of our background.

Perhaps it was because we were returning to a place with which our families have had a connection for generations.

Or perhaps Kashmir simply has a way of making you feel welcome.

A JOURNEY THAT CAME FULL CIRCLE

My first visit to Kashmir was in 1977.

Then came 1985, when I spent several months at The Oberoi Palace, Srinagar.

I returned on several occasions, thereafter, including a visit to Amarnath Ji.

I was also fortunate to have worked with The Lalit Group from 2006 to 2009 and, during that period, visited Srinagar twice on official assignments.

So, this latest journey was not merely another holiday.

It was a journey through time.

I travelled back to a place that has been part of my life for more than six decades. I saw familiar places through older eyes. I discovered new places with the curiosity of a first-time visitor. And somewhere between the past and the present, I found myself thinking about the life that might have been.

Perhaps that is the greatest power of Kashmir.

It does not merely give you memories.

It makes you reflect on the memories you never had.

For those of us whose ancestors belonged to this beautiful Valley, there will always be a little piece of Kashmir within us—irrespective of where life eventually took us.

Some of us may not speak the language.

Many of us may not have lived here.

We may not know what our lives would have been had our families remained.

But the connection is there.

Quiet.

Deep.

And enduring.

And perhaps that is why, when we finally leave Kashmir, a part of us does not really leave.

It stays behind—in the mountains, beside Dal Lake, in the sound of the local language, in the temples of our ancestors, and in the memories of those who came before us.

Kashmir may have been the destination of our journey, but in many ways, it was also a journey back to ourselves.

That is what made these six days so memorable.

And that is why, for me, this was not just another trip to the Valley.

It was a homecoming.

Vijay Wanchoo
September 2026