Srinagar, An Earthly Paradise

It may be a bIt scruffy around the edges, but Srinagar can stIll take your breath away.

- Amit Dixit

The snow swept mountains, whiter than a pashmina goat, swung out of view, and a lattice of green fields appeared. The mustard crop was flowering and, in the midday sun, seemed to be on fire. The plane banked sharply to the right, and the tin-topped roofs of tiny hamlets winked back. We let out a collective gasp as we landed in Srinagar.

But we should have saved our breath for the sights to follow. almond and cherry  The tulips too, in our honour, had crawled out of their buds two weeks ahead of schedule. In that tentative moment before the arrival of spring proper and the final retreat of winter, the streets seemed hushed. While everyone waited for the seasons to get on with their stuff, the city seemed monochromatic and soothing. There was a proper nip in the air. I don’t think any Dilliwala can honestly say we had a winter this time, so this counted as a treat. The incessant rain of the past few days had stopped all of a sudden (in our honour?), and the sun was out.

From our commanding perch at the RK Sarovar Portico,in Srinagar’s Sonawar neighbourhood, we could see the mountains shimmering on the horizon. But it was difficult to pay attention to what was outside when a veritable feast was being laid out before us. As we discovered, Chef Abbas has magic fingers and he rustled up a small but nevertheless sumptuous sample of the Wazwan, the Kashmiri feast I’d so far only heard about. At the Takht-E-Suliaman—as the restaurant is called—that afternoon, I had my first, Spring had come early to the valley, and trees were blossoming all over town