It’s not only exciting but soothing to eyes; the first thing that possibly comes to anyone’s mind after seeing snow is; “Now the winter is complete”.
I was talking to my elders and they were sharing their experiences about previous winters and I was surprised to know that they thought this “Chila-i-Kalan” has been much colder than any other winter in the past two decades. Well, I couldn’t agree more as I experienced it first hand, our water tank froze completely, and the huge pipes connected to it burst open. The pine tree branches covered with snow had almost touched the ground. As if that was not enough even the petrol cars refused to start. After all this complaining, when you take a deep breath and see how captivating the whole place and the surroundings are, you ignore all the hardships, and enjoy what Allah has bestowed upon us. We may complain about everything that winter brings with it but remember snow is a blessing. Mysticism teaches us that in this universe nothing is without a meaning and that everything you see around has a spiritual equivalent.
Like a teardrop is a way to express human emotion anger is an expression of subdued energy. Thus snow is a channel of energy; a voice so divine that your bodily senses can feel them as if it’s talking to us.Next morning, as the day passed, I came to know that everything has come to a standstill, the electricity was gone due to some technical problems, the National Highway connecting Kashmir to the rest of the country was closed due to landslides, airport closed for days, traffic ground to a halt, this is when I decided to try my photography skills that I learnt from my Dad, I must have been a toddler but I have vivid memories of my Dad shooting us with his “Minolta”, a very popular camera those days and he would just wait for the right frame to click us, that’s how I know a bit about photography. 
I did click some pictures and I am sure if the space allows you would enjoy some of them, the idea is to take us all on a virtual tour of our street, lakes in its chilly glory.
I tucked myself with a heavy jacket, got my snow boots on and decided that I would try and walk myself upto Nishat through the interiors of Dal Lake and then eventually drive from there. If one has to see the beauty of Dal Lake at anytime of the year then going through interiors is a “must go”. With vast open spaces, lush green surroundings, natural springs and rich bird life it has a unique blend of urban and the rural. The pure and pristine waters of Dal and Nagin wash its shores. It has a different texture, a different hue and is ecologically perhaps the most harmonious area in the City throughout the year. So my first destination was the interiors of the Dallake. While carefully walking on a crumbling floating garden we reached a part of the lake which was totally frozen from where we reached Soth, a short cut the Moguls had built to reach the Nishat Bagh and other gardens under the foothill. It reminds us of Kashmir’s historical past, its great cultural legacy and Kashmiriyat in a living form. There is a beautiful existing Mogul Bridge at Naidyar with three arches and that must be the only surviving one of its type in the Valley. They say Mughals used to use that as the base-camp whenever they would go for a boat ride or hunting.
The Hazratbal Mosque popularly known as “Dargah” looked absolutely amazing and calm. The more one would look at it the more divine it seemed. The mighty Himalayas looked so beautiful, the Charchinari (Four Chinars), the startling Nishat Bagh, everything had a meaning, it looked so scenic, more like a dream come true for an artist, a photographer or a tourist. The strong presence of the Himalayan ranges which surround you, the amazing Lake that reflects everything around, I felt like my soul had found a paradise. The Nishat and Shalimar Gardens, the university campus, the frozen lake of Harwan reservoir, the Boulevard road ,old ‘kadals’, the arches, the little shops, the small dusty windows in the interiors of Dal Lake could indeed be raconteur if they chose to speak. I froze the moments in my camera knowing the pictures really couldn’t do justice to the actual beauty but enough for me to live with a thought that may be many years down the line; I would look at them with a smile, all filled with nostalgia.
Looking at the sky, the shikaras rowing through the frozen lake, ravens flying by, young kids with pink cheeks playing with snow, nothing, absolutely nothing could be better than all this on a cloudy afternoon while walking through a snow covered prairie and observing all this with a white backdrop. It reminded me of an incident when I had to drop my family friends at the airport who had come to visit Kashmir after almost a decade and a half from London, I asked Sarah Mirza, one of the family members how she felt coming back to Kashmir, before I could end my question, I could see tears in her eyes, the impact was quite evident, she told me, Tanvir, The beauty of Kashmir distinctly surpasses any place in the whole world, the grasp of her imagination, eloquence or years. She says, “I left for London as a pre-teen, but the decade I spent in Kashmir, were sufficient to leave a longer lasting impression than I initially realised. The indomitable presence of the Himalayas which surround your person here may be taken for granted by Kashmiris living in Kashmir, but as a Kashmiri who has been robbed of their presence in the flatness of London, I feel like my soul has found a nirvana which it craved for the years spent away. Although London, in her glory can never envisage competing with Srinagar and the natural beauty she has to offer, the one thing which is highly commendable about the Londoners, or the British in fact, is the pride with which they preserve their past. 
She goes on and adds, “Srinagar, has certainly preserved, imbued and savoured incredible history, for generations, but I feel we need to enthuse restoration to the older parts of the city rather than desertion and destitution. Downtown Srinagar is a fascinating refuge; time seems to have stood still here. It seems to me the Mughal and Kashmiri architects of the past had far greater intuition and aptitude. These artisans’ were certainly better synchronised with the romanticism that surrounded them. They created far greatest tributes to their imagination, than the menial imagination which runs rampant in current architects of the valley. She went on and on so engrossed that she forgot that she was about to leave for London when suddenly a field crew at the airport asked her to proceed for security check. Kashmir has been the highlight of my life, let alone this trip so far. Its paradise and its home. I hope to be back soon. I'll miss cruising in the dead of night through moonlit and abandoned parts of the old city, which heave and creak with character. I'll miss watching sun sets and sunrises, on the banks of lakes and rivers which are dotted all over the city. I’ll miss the warmth. I'll miss experiencing the real Kashmir and I'll be back for more before I take my final bow, said sarah, before entering the security area and they all waving at us. This is how almost all of my family, friends outside the state or country feel about Kashmir.
As it was getting dark I started heading back home not before I realised that this all belonged to us and we are the only people who can preserve the beauty of Kashmir in its original form. I felt like a son being caressed by his mother, a feeling of pride, a feeling of patriotism, a feeling that this is my Kashmir, my beautiful Kashmir. While driving back and watching flakes falling on my front mirror of the car only brought a smile to my face, I slowly opened my window and the feeling of a snowflake coming down and kissing your cheeks is something beyond words. Next time you look at the snowflakes gently dropping from heaven, purifying the earth of its sins, blanketing earth in its white embrace, remember that you are witnessing a kiss – a godly kiss.
Tanvir Sadiq
