It was Friday afternoon, from Hazratbal dargah we made our way to the Kashmir University. The Hazratbal area is known as the centre of higher education in Kashmir as it is home to various educational institutes. At the University, we met Papa’s friend who is a Dean there. We went to his office, where he offered us some kahwa and sweet baked rolls. We made small talk for a while and then set out on a tour of the university.
It may have been summer vacation for me, but Kashmir university was bustling with students, who were walking down beautiful pathways bordered by flowers and trees. Entering the older parts of the university, Papa’s friend remarked on how modernized everything had become. He said he missed the old university buildings; the new ones just didn’t feel like they were part of the same university. I personally believe that modernization is fine, and the reason people are usually inclined towards the older way of things is largely because of the nostalgia they carry. Someday, the students studying at Kashmir University right now will look back and miss these modern buildings which will be old news by that time.
We came upon a secluded part of the campus, which was home to a lot of grand chinar trees. Papa’s friend pointed out a tree stump. He said that stump was also an old chinar tree. Many of the grand chinar trees in Kashmir were planted around 400-500 years ago. A lot of them were planted by Mughal emperors, which really puts into perspective how very old these trees are. Even the great chinars we saw in front of us would sometime be mere stumps and their magnificence will wither away. It really makes you wonder about the passage of time. I just pondered how the trees I am looking at right now have been subject to millions of gazes over the years.
The enclosure we were in, was right in front of the Dal Lake. The dean’s eyes grew wistful as he gazed out at the lake and remarked, “Kashmir is beautiful, and that is its biggest woe!’’
We stood there in silence for a while. Then we trudged back to the car and went out of the campus grounds through a nearby gate. The car weaved through narrow streets and brought us in front of a house. This is one peculiar thing about Kashmir; there are no apartment complexes. Everyone owns a house. No matter which economic strata you belong to, everyone has some land and a house to their name.
A man walked out of the gates of one of the houses. He handed some bags to us, which contained dry fruits. Somehow during the short time, we had spent with Papa’s friend, he had managed to order some dry fruits from an acquaintance of his. Kashmir is famous for its dry fruits, and we had planned to buy some anyways. We were very grateful for this gesture of Mr. Dean. He casually remarked that drivers take tourists to the places that sell the most expensive dry fruits, since they get a share for every customer, they bring in. Hearing this, our driver’s expression soured a bit and he weakly protested against the accusation. The atmosphere in the car grew a bit awkward and stayed that way until we dropped the dean off at the university. We thanked him for everything and rushed to the rest of the places on our list.
It was quite late in the evening. I had almost given up on the possibility of visiting the rest of the gardens, but then mummy mentioned that these were the gardens she had visited on her childhood trip to Kashmir. She wanted to visit them once again, for the sake of sentimentality.
Fortunately, Shalimar Garden was open. On entering, I was struck by the elements of the garden which were similar to Chashme Shahi. This consistency was due to the fact that most of the gardens in Kashmir had been made by Mughal emperors. The architecture and design in the garden are akin to Mughal structures throughout India. Characteristic features of the gardens include an artificial stream, fountains, lots of flowers, chinar trees, and a structure in the middle from where the water seems to flow.
As we climbed up the stairs of the garden, we saw people gathered in the stream; adults dipping their feet and the kids flicking water at each other from the fountains. A ledge gave way to a waterfall, and bunch of tourists were bathing under it with excited shrieks and laughter. The overall atmosphere of the garden was very lively.
The structure in the middle of the garden was beautiful, the walls and ceiling full of intricate designs, faded over time. I really do think that restoration and protection of monuments should be a more important concern than it is right now. So many monuments in India, yet so many elements of their true beauty have been lost to time.
It was quite late in the evening, so we stopped to have tea at a nearby stall. I was hungry and ordered some noodles. After that short break, we went to Nishat Garden. This garden’s unique characteristic was that it was smack dab in the middle of the city. Right next to Dal Lake, the actual garden was at an elevation. It was very late in the evening, and the proximity to the lake meant that we had a clear view of the setting sun. We just stood there for a little while, basking in the soft light painting the sky a brilliant golden colour.
Walking on ahead, I noticed that the garden shared the same features as all other Mughal gardens. The flowers were abundant here as well, but somehow the dimmed light of the evening brought out in them a kind of soft elegance that we hadn’t been able to see during the day. Looking out at all the gardens, I suddenly grew wistful because I know that after going back home, I won’t be able to see such brilliant flowers anytime soon. The city has its own beauty, but people always long for which they don’t have.
While roaming around the garden, we came upon an old gardener who graciously told us the history of the garden. He even took us to the best spots for clicking photos and even clicked some for us. We felt fortunate to have met a man who took it upon himself to be our impromptu tour guide, but then the man began to look at us expectantly. It was then that we remembered that nothing is truly free, and we ended up giving him some money for his help.
As the sun set completely, we asked our driver to take us to the main market. My mom bought some embroidered suits and bed covers while I bought some shoes since mine were broken. As before, most shops closed by around eight in the evening, so we had to go back soon. All in all, it had been a long tiring day, but it was a day that I wouldn’t forget in my lifetime.
Insha Faridoon