Kashmir’s Betaab Valley

“Memories warm you up from the inside. But they also tear you apart.” – Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

This post I will write about the memories that warmed me up, ones of extreme cold that brings back fond memories of companionship, friendship, bonding over small talks with complete strangers and of the fragrance of Kashmiri Kahwa. When I was planning to write this post, I was thinking of how I am losing the habit of writing on paper, the habit of writing down sentences to weave into stories and essays, so I wrote this post on my diary first. It made me realise how I missed the joy of watching ink spread on paper. I haven’t given anyone a card with a handwritten note, my grocery lists have moved to Whatsapp, I do not write in a diary anymore and all the writing is limited to MS Word and Excel spreadsheets. The only habit that still remains is doodling, I doodle on my office notebooks, on my colleague’s hard copies but I hadn’t put pen to paper in a long time. Going through the pictures of Betaab valley brought back pure nostalgia. 

Previously known as the Hagan Valley or Hagoon, it was renamed into Betaab valley after the blockbuster Betab was shot here. 

Approximately 15km from Pahalgam, Betaab is easily approachable. You can hire taxis that will pick and drop you from your hotel or homestay. 

Just before you descend down to the valley, you will come across a group of vendors offering boots on rent. Our taxi driver had informed us beforehand to agree on Rupees 50 per pair, and so we did. 

Snow can make walking on a trail trickier, you never realize how deep into a crevice the snow goes. 

Looks like a wallpaper. 

Web of hope

….frail snow, like a memory fading into the distance.” – Murakami

Happy spot

Feels good to have solid ground under my feet

The Raven that refused to sing

View from my temporary window to the world

Wooden rustic houses lining the meadows

Hide and seek with Sun and shadows

Lidder snaking away 

Living off the land where the parameter of success is not the materialistic happiness.

Snow as beautiful and frail it appears is ruinous

Settlement of cultures

Growing up

Beyond the point is Chandanwadi

Few from the bunch

Bubbling away

Bonding over the winters – a shared commodity

Kashmiri Kanger – earthen pot woven around with wicker filled with hot embers used by Kashmiris

Vector

While the group faces North I go South

On the same page

I could hear absolute silence…

You can hear absolute silence, water bubbling over the rocks, ice crunching under your feet, snow-clad winter landscape glistening under the harsh sun – that has been Kashmir to us. The poetry of landscape lived by many and experienced by few.  

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