Yash Sonkusale
📑 Table of Contents
- Introduction – When Spring Comes Calling in Kashmir
- The First Sight: Arrival in Srinagar
- Tulip Gardens: When Petals Speak Louder than Words
- Shikara Rides and Stillness in Dal Lake
- A Walk Through Mughal Gardens: Soulful Geometry
- Gulmarg in Spring – Not Just Snow, But Blossoms
- The People of Kashmir – Kindness in Every Smile
- Kashmiri Cuisine: Flavor That Comforts the Heart
- Travel Tips for a Spring Kashmir Journey
- Conclusion – The Emotion You’ll Bring Back Home
1. Introduction – When Spring Comes Calling in Kashmir
Sometimes, when life gets too noisy, too digital, too detached… nature whispers back.
It was during one of those evenings in Pune—overworked, overstimulated, and oddly empty—that I found myself googling spring destinations. I wasn’t just looking for a vacation. I was looking for something that breathes again. That’s when Kashmir happened. Or rather, it called.
And if you’ve ever worked in the travel world, you know not all journeys are created equal. As someone who’s worked with some of the best travel companies in Pune, I’ve helped plan hundreds of trips. But this time, I needed the journey to plan me.
So I booked it—not for the snow (that’s winter’s story), but for the blossoms. For the thaw. For the rebirth.
2. The First Sight: Arrival in Srinagar
Srinagar in March or April doesn’t scream. It sings.
The air is fresh, but not biting. The scent? Part snow, part soil, and part something… poetic. The city doesn’t rush. It welcomes you like an old friend—you just didn’t know you missed.
And then you see it: blooming almond and cherry trees against snow-dusted rooftops, with the Himalayas standing guard in the distance.
It’s hard to be cynical in a place that feels this alive.
3. Tulip Gardens – A Memory That Smelled Like Childhood
They say spring is the soul of the year—and if that’s true, then Kashmir’s tulip garden is where that soul blooms the loudest, yet speaks the softest. When I walked into the Indira Gandhi Tulip Garden that April morning, it felt less like entering a park and more like stepping into a forgotten dream.
The colors hit first, of course—ribbons of tulips stretching endlessly, in shades so rich they almost felt made up. Scarlet, lemon, coral, rose… and one so deep and purple it looked like dusk had fallen into a petal. But what struck me more than the palette was the silence. Not emptiness—but presence. A quiet that asked nothing of you. A pause that made people slowly pocket their phones, lower their voices, and just… look.
Somewhere between those rows, I noticed a little girl spinning, arms wide, her laughter tumbling through the garden like wind through chimes. No camera. No calls to pose. Just movement for the sake of joy. Watching her, something stirred—like a memory.
There were no filters here. No hashtags. Just flowers. And a kind of feeling that didn’t ask to be explained—only felt.
4. Shikara Rides and Stillness in Dal Lake
Have you ever heard the sound of silence?
Dal Lake in spring isn’t frozen. It flows. Gently.
I remember lying back on the cushion of a shikara, floating through golden reflections of houseboats, willow trees, and distant prayers from mosques. It wasn’t just a ride. It was therapy.
Every ripple in the water seemed to carry a memory I hadn’t yet made. And yet, I already missed it.
5. A Walk Through Mughal Gardens: Soulful Geometry
Spring reveals the soul of Mughal architecture.
At Nishat Bagh and Shalimar Bagh, the flowers aren’t wild. They’re disciplined. Structured. But in that structure, there’s freedom. A kind of peace that only centuries-old design can give.
You walk through cascading fountains, geometric lawns, and whispering chinars—realizing that spring here is not an event. It’s a presence.
6. Gulmarg in Spring – Not Just Snow, But Blossoms
Gulmarg isn’t just about skiing.
In April, you’ll still find some snow on the peaks, but the meadows? They’re quietly bursting into life. The grass is returning. Wildflowers peek out. Horses graze slowly. And if you take the Gondola ride, the altitude gifts you silence—the kind you didn’t know you needed.
It’s surreal to be wearing a jacket while watching flowers bloom.
7. The People of Kashmir – Kindness in Every Smile
They say the cold makes people reserved. Not here.
Whether it was the shikara boatman telling me tales of springtime weddings, or the old lady in a village selling saffron with shy grace—every encounter felt like a page from a deeper story.
They didn’t push. They didn’t market. They just invited you in—with chai, with walnuts, with warmth.
8. Kashmiri Cuisine: Flavor That Comforts the Heart
Spring brings fresh produce. And Kashmir knows how to honor it.
From Nadru Yakhni (lotus stem curry) to Kashmiri Dum Aloo, and of course the celebratory Wazwan—the food is rich, but never heavy. Flavorful, but not loud.
And the Kahwa, that spiced green tea with almonds and saffron? It tastes like a lullaby for the soul.
9. Travel Tips for a Spring Kashmir Journey
- Best Time: Late March to Mid-April for tulips; April to May for blossoms.
- Packing Tip: Bring layers. Mornings are chilly, afternoons gentle.
- Local Help: Always go with a registered local guide or a reputed agency.
- Cultural Etiquette: Be respectful. Kashmiris are deeply hospitable but value sincerity.
- Stay Connected: But don’t be glued to your phone. The real signal is nature.
10. Conclusion – The Emotion You’ll Bring Back Home
Kashmir in spring is not just a season—it’s a mirror.
You go expecting flowers. You return with stillness. It teaches you that beauty doesn’t need grandeur. That peace isn’t a place—it’s a pace.
And if you’re sitting in Pune right now, wondering if a trip like this could really change something inside you, I’d say yes. Not just because I’ve worked with a pune travels company or planned such journeys before. But because I went—and came back a little more myself.
So if the season outside is blooming, maybe it’s time the one inside does too.
10 Frequently Asked Questions (FAQ)
1. Why did you choose Kashmir in spring, and not some famous international place?
Answer:
I could’ve gone anywhere. Honestly, Bali was cheaper. Europe sounded trendier. But one evening, while sitting alone on my terrace in Pune, I came across a photo of the tulip garden in Kashmir. No filters. Just rows of color under a moody sky. Something about it tugged at me. Maybe I didn’t want a vacation. Maybe I just wanted to feel something honest. That photo didn’t sell me a trip—it reminded me of stillness. That’s what I was chasing.
2. Did you ever feel unsafe or uneasy while traveling through Kashmir?
Answer:
Not even once. And that surprised me. I arrived with all the caution people tend to carry when they visit places they’ve only heard about through news. But the people I met? Gentle. Gracious. I remember walking through a small local market, and an old man offered me kahwa without trying to sell me anything. He just smiled and said, “You’ve come in the right season.” I believed him. You don’t forget kindness like that.
- If I’m emotionally exhausted, is Kashmir the right place to go?
Answer:
If you’re tired in a way that sleep doesn’t fix… then yes. This is the kind of place that doesn’t shout to get your attention. It whispers. It lets you walk at your own pace, sit on stones for as long as you need, and not feel wrong for doing nothing. I left parts of my stress on those mountain trails — not by letting go, but by simply not needing to hold them anymore.
- How did you find someone who actually understood how you wanted to travel?
Answer:
That took time. Most travel companies give you plans, but not space. I finally spoke to a small Pune-based travel team that didn’t just ask “Where to?” — they asked “Why now?” That question changed everything. They didn’t push the usual things. They listened. And then they built an itinerary that matched not just my schedule, but my state of mind. You can find them at Captain Nilesh Holidays — they’re not just planners. They’re quiet listeners who happen to know travel inside out.
- What stayed with you the most after returning home?
Answer:
Oddly enough, not the tulips. Not the snow. Not even the photos. It was a feeling I carried back—the way Kashmir made me feel present. How it slowed me down without asking me to stop. How it allowed me to feel without explanation. Weeks later, I still find myself taking slower walks, looking up more often, and smiling at strangers. That’s what Kashmir gave me—a quieter version of myself I didn’t know I’d been missing.
