Day 3: Tulail Valley – Read More
Day 4: Pasoori, Bagtore & Taarbal
Taarbal / Bagtore – about 45 min from Dawar
Since we had no travel plans for the first half of the day, I indulged in a bit of extended sleep, relishing the luxury of a leisurely morning. Danish was slated to join me around 3 pm, and our agenda involved unravelling the hidden gem of Bagtore Valley and its enchanting surroundings – a well-kept secret even from the local tourists.
It was about 8 am, and the children, brimming with exuberance, spilled into the camp, infusing it with youthful vitality. My favourite nook, what I described as “gully” position, is where all the elements of the world came together – the comfort of tree cover, sound of lazy river flowing in the background, chirpy bird’s river and sight of Habba Khatoon peak, to create a perfect harmony.
The fatigue from the previous day’s arduous journey along the rugged roads was still lingering. Iqbal offered to organize my breakfast, recognizing my need for a steaming cup of coffee to rouse my weary nerves.
As we sat, my gaze fixed on the mountain peak adjacent to our resort, supposedly the habitat of brown bear, marvelling at their lofty grandeur and barren beauty. I inquired from Irfan about the whereabouts of bears during the broad daylight. Irfan shared that they would seek refuge behind rocks or, quite simply, be on the other side of the mountain.
Irfan showed some video’s of brown bear from the local area and we discussed how unlike humans, the bear could navigate the slopes with remarkable agility, as if traversing a level plain. Scaling this mountain would likely take me minimum 5 days.
Curious about other wildlife, I asked Irfan if there were additional animals to spot in the region. He mentioned that during early spring, Ibex could be seen grazing on the mountain slopes, and depending on their risk appetite, they might venture down to the valley near the river. The child in me briefly eclipsed my adult sensibilities. Eager to catch a glimpse, I zoomed my camera lens. Irfan chuckled, explaining that Ibex are shy animals and spotting them didn’t work that way.
Our conversation delved into his perspectives on religious practices, particularly the concept of marriage, and the societal role of women. Observing the scarcity of local females on the roads, I asked Irfan, whether Gurez was still considered as a conservative society. Wondering if families would allow girls to work in resorts or hotels if they were paid well. Irfan’s laughter conveyed a tacit understanding. Just about then Zeeshan and Zaakir returned from the market with provisions for the resort, and Irfan rushed to attend to the same.
I invited Zeeshan and Zaakir to join me for breakfast and offered Them light packaged snacks – chikki, khakra, energy bars, etc., which I had carried from Mumbai. We all enjoyed having some lighter moments together. Even Zeeshan father joined in.
I shared more cookies and chocolates with the kids, building on the bond we had formed over the past two days. We shared a delightful moment, taking pictures, recording songs, and sharing laughter, we created memories. As the kids prepared to leave, we exchanged warm goodbyes. The beauties invited me to visit them in Srinagar. After a light lunch, Danish arrived as decided, and we set off for Bagtore. Although not initially on my schedule, the local hideout fascinated me – a picturesque gem worth exploring.
We first headed to the village ground, a flattish land on a small hillock, surrounded by the mountains, capturing the essence of a postcard-worthy setting. To the east a barbed wire fence at the far end of the ground marked the restricted area, preventing access beyond, even for cattle grazing. It served as a restricted buffer zone between the village and LOC.
To the west and south, dense forests covered the mountains, while to the north, the mighty Himalayan peaks stood majestic. Imagining the lush greenery, juxtaposed with the snow-covered northern mountains during winter, added to the allure of this charming location. The cricket tournament showcased the vibrancy of this last Indian village near the LOC. Although the ground was not flat for game of cricket, but it displayed a testament to the local youth’s recreational activities. In the heart of the valley, the enchanting cricket tournament casted its spell on the rustic charm of Bagtore.
The inter-village cricket tournament was sponsored by the local army base. The teams, adorned in pure whites, danced to the rhythm of their spirits, guided by supposedly neutral umpires whose confidence wavered at times.
A hilarious spectacle, where umpires swapped places for a quick loo break and teams reached a consensus in moments of disagreement with the umpires.
Bowling continued only from the Village End, as it had gentle slope adding character to the pitch. The edge of the boundary at the bowlers end flirted with charming village houses. Twice, the cricket ball was lost in the hedges of these house due to batsman powerful strike. Cows, unfazed by the spectacle, meandered onto the field intermittently, evoking laughter as fielders took turns shooing them away.
Amidst the lively game, a local kid, akin to a Hindi Harsha Bhogle in the making, orchestrated vibrant commentary, painting the field with excitement. Both the teams had their own scorecard keepers and they would meet to resolve any discrepancies after end of each over.
Sheltered within a tent, I found myself in the company of two local men, well into their 80s, one of them being the Sarpanch of Bagtore.
I was inspired by their enthusiasm towards life, as they sat through the entire match. The Sarpanch greeted and welcomed me to his village and we chit chatted as the game continued. I asked him if he had a favourite team, he laughed.
Everyone who joined in the tent to watch the match, greeted him respectfully, I assume he commanded great respect over authority.
As the match reached its predictable conclusion, Danish and I departed the cricket field, steering toward the village. Twilight had draped the valley, and the once-bustling shops now stood silent, casting the village into a ghostly serenity. Our journey along the Kishanganga River led us to an unexpected encounter. Shabir, along with his friends, were just concluding their successful fishing venture. As I greeted Shabir with his name, he was pleasantly surprised that I remembered his name. We all exchanged warm good-byes and wished Shabir to enjoy his fresh catch.
As the sun dipped behind us, we traced the road to a dead-end – Taarbal.
A military personnel guarded the quaint junction, here, a magnificent house stood tall, its secrets concealed behind closed doors.
The small lane leading to Taarbal village is adjacent to this house.
As I drew my camera, Danish was quick to add, “Sir ji, idhar photo mat lo”. Although Danish discouraged lingering, I longed to explore on foot, immersing myself in the charm of Taarbal. A missed opportunity for me, but a gentle nudge for fellow travellers to seize the narrow path and unravel the beauty of Taarbal up close.
The whole drive along the river with small villages tucked in remoteness of wilderness was very soothing and calm. The time had come to a standstill. We were driving at the river flow level, with the river flowing gentle on one side and farms on the other side of the road. Yes, we had been travelling from one beautiful location to another and frankly I dare not compare one place to another.
But this was a surreal feeling of bliss, it was not just the location, or the drive or the weather, or the people, etc., I think the entire nature with all its elements had come together to make one experience happiness.
In the enchanting embrace of the valley, we encountered a gracious local while navigating the picturesque roads. Danish, with the warmth of a host, introduced me as a guest from the bustling city of Mumbai. The local invited us into his humble house for a cup of warm tea. I hesitated at first, uttering a timid “No” that unintentionally became a regrettable final refusal. Even now, as I pen down these words, I find myself repenting that fleeting moment.
As we retraced our path to the campsite, Danish drove with a gentle pace, the daylight bidding adieu, and a soft drizzle blessing the surroundings. Though the day excursion was brief, its essence lingered, etched in my memory. With the resilient silhouette of Habba Khatoon peak standing tall against the falling darkness and raindrops, I couldn’t help but wonder if, after nightfall, the melodious songs of Habba Khatoon herself would still serenade the valley.
In the embrace of Gurez, my final night unfolded. Danish, instructed me to be prepared by 10 am the next day for our departure to the next destination. Urgently, I sought out Iqbal to secure my dinner order. As I wandered through the campsite, its solitude pulled my heart. As it was drizzling outside, I awaited my dinner in the dining area. Throughout my stay, I had opted for modest meals, avoiding extravagant dishes in this remote haven. It wasn’t a matter of mistrusting Iqbal’s culinary prowess; rather, it was a precaution against any potential stomach upsets.
In the dining hall, the company of a Bengali / Gujarati fellow travellers joined my solitude. Unlike their lively selves from the day before, weariness marked their faces. Retreating to my tent, I nestled into my bed after completing the nightly rituals that had become routine over the past three nights. The mobile plugged on its charger, the electric blanket emanated warmth, and the chair at the entrance stood guard against the brown bear. As the valley cradled me, I drifted into a peaceful slumber, only to awaken at the tender hour of 6 am the next morning, as the valley’s magic unfolded once again.
August 2023
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Day 5: Wular Lake
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Sukumar Jain, a Mumbai-based finance professional with global experience, is also a passionate traveler, wildlife enthusiast, and an aficionado of Indian culture. Alongside his career, which includes diverse roles in international banking and finance, he's working on a wildlife coffee table book and enjoys sculpture and pottery. His interests span reading non-fiction to engaging in social and global networking.
