Gurez Valley and the legend of Habba Khatoon

 

 

Gurez Valley is enigmatic. the Valley  doesn't know whether it wants to be stark and stony like Leh, or lush and green as in the rest of Kaskmir, so I guess it is a bit of both. Bare and rocky on one side and verdant pines on the other. But then I am getting ahead of myself...

About six hours from Srinagar, via Wular Lake (arguably one of the largest sweet-water lakes in the country) lies the Gurez Valley.  After about an hour's drive along flat country we stated climbing after Bandipore till we came to the shrine of Peer Baba, where we stopped to matha teko, literally bow our heads to the ground in deference to the Peer.

A liitle further we came to the Razdan Pass, which at 11,672 feet (about 3558 metres) was the highest point on our journey. Then a descent of about two hours brought us to the Kishenganga river and the dam across it.  The police and military were now apparent and numerous check-posts later we reached Dawar Village. At these check-posts, no one was rude or peremptory considering the pressure on those manning them, they simply told us what we could or could not do - fair enough.

Dawar Village is one of the few places with expert wooden joinery that we saw, the wood keeps houses cool in summer and warm in winter.  As it is across the Razdan Pass which closes in winter due to the heavy snowfall, it is also one of the difficult villages to access and far off from the regular tourist track. Trekking tourism is just arriving. 

There is a lot of wood used in construction here, till recently locals were permitted to use trees, now most houses are made of brick and mortar, with GI sheets on the roof. I was mesmerised by this wooden architecture and took many photographs.

Houses, anywhere in India, but more so in inaccessible places, use a lot of local material, but as connectivity has improved, modern materials are more evident. We saw heavy earth-moving equipment being used in construction. Most people near a road or suitable location, is making the ubiquitous homestay, a convenience of debatable  value.

As the sun got lower a single conical feature was illuminated, Habba Khatoon.  She was a lady who was brought up here and is the subject of much legend and lore. The banks of the Kishenganga are now very littered with the detritus of 'modern' life which the village is not equipped to remove. It is a matter of time that this beautiful place goes the way of so many hill-stations.

Basav and I took a walk along the banks and bed of the Kishenganga, and a lot of fauna was evident can be seen from these recent pugmarks of a Red Fox.

The Himalayan Black Bear population has also increased and no fence can hold them back from a feast young, tender millet, getting aggressive if prevented  The farmers here uproot the millet before it ripens and use it as cattle fodder to avoid the bears.

A stream (chashma) flows from the Habba Khatoon mountain to the the Kishenganga River, a few metres away.  This chashma has many mythical meanings, but the thing that I experienced is that its very, very cold and pure.

That we had gone when it was still raining meant moss everywhere. The weather here is fickle (as it is everywhere in the mountains), from bright sunshine one moment to thunder, lightning and pouring rain the next. But the beauty of the mountains lies in this, the play or the lack of light on a wild hillside.

A valley that offers true solitude can provide an exhilarating experience for the soul. Just don't go there alone...