Some trips are planned.
Some trips happen. And some trips slowly become memories even while you’re living them. This was one of those trips.
It all really began last year when Amma casually mentioned that she wanted to visit Vaishno Devi someday. We had just returned from our trip to Puri, and that journey had left all of us deeply happy peaceful darshans, simple joys, good food, family time, and memories that stayed longer than photographs.
So this year, before summer properly began, my husband and I started discussing a holiday because Amma’s school holidays were approaching. And yes she’s been a teacher for more than 15 years now. Quite an achievement honestly, to work consistently for years. My husband’s math is also very good but me addition, subtraction, multiplication, division, and enough percentages to survive office work that’s where my talents end.
After endless back-and-forth planning, we finally booked our helicopter tickets to Vaishno Devi on March 3rd for May 10th. The demand was unreal. Once that got confirmed, flights followed, and initially the plan was simple: Vaishno Devi, Amritsar, and back.
But then someone remembered North Indian summer exists. And suddenly the best option became obvious Kashmir.
Soon our small trip turned into a proper family-friensa like family clan adventure. Meera Aunty joined alog with her Prasadi uncle and Bharathi aunty. Then Usha Aunty. Suma Aunty. And somehow, before we knew it, this had become a full-fledged group trip powered by snacks, sweaters, excitement, and WhatsApp discussions.
Before Kashmir, though, life gave us two beautiful weekends in our hometown, Nagamangala.
The first was for Bhootha Puje Guliga and Panjurli daiva rituals. We offered panchakajjaya as samarpane, thanking for the past year and praying for the coming one. There’s something incredibly grounding about traditions. Oil lamps, devotion, simplicity, community even when you don’t fully understand every ritual, emotionally you feel everything.
The next visit was for the Narasimha Swamy teru, and honestly, it became one of my favourite memories after marriage. It had that old-school village festival feeling deeply rooted, simple, genuine, and filled with really good food.
That same weekend, we visited Bindiganavile Temple, which somehow stayed with me long after we left. Some places do that quietly.
Of course, Sowmya Keshava Temple is already world famous for its beauty and history. But the Keshava temple at Bindiganavile Temple felt special in a much more personal way.
What makes this temple unique is the story attached to Garuda Swamy and his consort — something very rare to witness. It is believed that while the king was carrying the deity for prathishtapane at Belur, the idol stopped at Bindiganavile and conveyed that it wished to remain there itself. And that is how the temple came to be established there.
What made the visit even more memorable was hearing this story directly from the priest himself. He blessed us so warmly and with so much affection that the whole experience felt deeply peaceful.
And something I still can’t take my eyes off is the tiny Krishna idol with serpent protection that he gave us to hold while receiving blessings. Such a simple but beautiful moment. I still look at that picture almost every day — it instantly brings a smile to my face. ❤️
Then came shopping for our actual holiday.
We picked up winter wear from Uniqlo genuinely good-quality winter clothes and anime T-shirts because obviously priorities exist.
And finally Kashmir happened.
Vaishno Devi – Faith, Helicopters & Gratitude
Our journey began on May 10th with a 6:45 AM flight. Sleepy faces, airport chaos, jackets everywhere, and one very enthusiastic travel group.
We had a short layover in Delhi, which I surprisingly enjoyed. Quick shopping, snacks, walking around airports pretending to be international travellers very healing honestly.
After landing in Jammu, we met Rayees and Yaawar our escorts/drivers for the trip along with their trusty Innovas that practically became our caravans by the end.
Lunch in Jammu was simple but unforgettable because we were starving. Rajma chawal, dal khichdi, no AC, everyone eating silently with complete dedication. After that? Pure sleep.
We finally reached Katra and checked into Holiday Inn Katra Vaishno Devi. From our rooms, we could actually see Vaishno Devi glowing in the distance.
And then we realised it was Mother’s Day.
So Amma and the moms in the group got a surprise cake celebration because honestly mothers are everything. The joy on their faces made the whole thing worth it.
That evening, while walking around Katra, I saw yatris sleeping in railway stations and open spaces before beginning the 14-kilometre trek uphill for darshan.
And suddenly everything felt humbling.
The next morning, our 80-year-old grandmother turned out to be the most energetic among all of us. The temple sits at around 5,200 feet in the Trikuta Mountains, and even reaching the helipad itself felt exciting.
The darshan journey was chaotic helicopters, walking, horses, dholis, crowds, mountain paths but once we finally stood before Vaishno Devi Mata, all of that disappeared from the mind instantly.
Nature was kind too. The weather stayed cold while climbing and cleared just in time for helicopter services to resume.
Now the horse ride though?
Trauma. 😭
Meanwhile Suma Aunty, Appa, and Kushal (my husband) enjoyed it fully while I sat completely stiff, praying to Ganesha for safe survival.
Srinagar, Horses & The beautiful flowers.
The drive from Katra to Srinagar was probably the most exhausting part of the trip. Endless mountain roads, curves, traffic, tunnels… even Chukki was tired.
We reached Srinagar around 12:30 AM and crashed at Ramada by Wyndham Srinagar.
The next day, we headed toward Pahalgam. Beautiful? Absolutely. But honestly, my husband and I realised something important:
Too much “hilly hilly” becomes “no jolly holly.”
Still, the fresh apple juice, saffron shops, rivers, and scenery kept us entertained.
Then came horse ride negotiations.
Initial price? ₹6700 per person. Amma’s bargaining skills? Award worthy. Final rate? Around ₹2000/-
And then chaos began.
Hundreds of horses everywhere. Screaming. Moving. Pooping. Overtaking each other. Random names like Basanti and Zanskaar. Mine was apparently Zanskaar. Amma’s horse was somehow related to mine emotionally and genetically nobody knew. 😭
At one point, my panic while complaining to the horse handler apparently became a full The Kapil Sharma Show episode for everyone.
But honestly? The views were worth it.
Kutcha roads. Pukka houses. Pine trees. Snow-covered peaks. Misty air. Stunning valleys.
And the Kashmiri dress-up photographs?
Absolutely cherished forever. ❤️
Gulmarg, No Snow & Game Nights ✨
Then came Gulmarg unreal levels of scenic beauty. The Gulmarg Gondola ride felt magical. Floating above pine forests and mountains in one of the world’s highest cable cars genuinely humbles you.
Sadly, we missed Phase 2 tickets.And sadly again NO SNOW. 😭
No snowman. No snowfall. No dramatic movie scenes. But we did capture beautiful pictures. My favourite part of any trip.
People promised snow in Sonamarg too. Nothing there either.
So we decided to stop chasing perfect snow and simply enjoy Kashmir for what it was.
That night became one of my favourite memories. Housie, songs, laughter, random singing where I hardly knew any lyrics, terrible dinner, freezing weather, and beautiful river views outside our stay.
And then came Drung Waterfall with ATV rides.
Most people skipped it, but we convinced Amma somehow. Best decision ever.
Beautiful photographs. Adventure. Cold breeze.
Happy soul. ✨
Dal Lake, Birthdays & Floating Markets ❤️
May 14th was my husband’s birthday, so Amma and I secretly planned a surprise.
That evening, we visited Dal Lake for a shikara ride while soft rain came and went across the lake.
Dal Lake feels timeless.Floating markets. Tiny boats selling saffron, flowers, jewellery, dry fruits. Houseboats reflecting in calm water. Cold breeze. Mountains surrounding everything.
It felt peaceful in the softest way possible. Back at Ramada by Wyndham Srinagar, birthday celebrations began.
And honestly, I LOVE birthdays. Don’t mind celebrating it every month. Somehow I’ll always have a new dress whenever my family has their own birthday or I would have silently reserved one for that day. 🫠♥️
New dress? Mandatory.
Cake? Mandatory.
Gift packing? Mandatory.
Excitement? Absolutely mandatory.
Those small celebrations surrounded by family and mountains somehow become more memorable than huge parties.
Adi-Shankaracharya hill – Faith & Lal Chowk
On May 15th, we visited Shankaracharya Temple atop Shankaracharya Hill — one of the most sacred and peaceful places in Kashmir.
Originally known as Gopadri Hill, this ancient hill is believed to date back thousands of years. The temple is dedicated to Lord Shiva and houses an ancient Shiva Linga worshipped for centuries. It is also believed that Adi Shankaracharya meditated here during his journey across India, which is how the hill eventually got its present name.
Now spiritually calming? Yes.
Historically significant? Absolutely.
But the real headline of the morning was our grandmother.
At 80 years old.
Climbing like she had unfinished business with the hill. Meanwhile, the rest of us were climbing dramatically, adjusting shawls, catching our breath every few steps, and pretending we were “just admiring the view.” Honestly, her stamina deserves so much recognition.
The drive upward itself felt magical winding roads, cool breeze, tall trees, monkeys casually judging tourists, and sudden glimpses of Dal Lake below looking like a painting.
And once we finally reached the top, everything became still.
Peaceful winds, ancient stone steps, mountain views, and the calm presence of the Shiva Linga somehow made the entire climb feel worth it. There’s a quietness there that naturally slows you down.
Later, we explored the Mughal Gardens and the scenic Boulevard Road and Gupkar area where honestly even normal roads looked prettier than most tourist spots elsewhere.
Flowers everywhere.
Red. Pink. Yellow. White. Orange.
Kashmir genuinely blooms like it’s showing off full-time.
One emotional moment stayed with me deeply though Amma spoke to a Kashmiri Hindu woman who suddenly became emotional while speaking about temples, havans, memories, fear, and suffering.
And honestly, after hearing her, the beauty of Kashmir felt heavier somehow. Because behind all the lakes, flowers, and mountains, there are also stories people quietly carry within them.
Later, we visited Lal Chowk one of the most historically and politically important places in Kashmir.
Beyond being a busy marketplace, Lal Chowk became symbolic over decades because of Kashmir’s political history, especially after the abrogation of Article 370 in 2019, when Jammu & Kashmir’s special constitutional status was removed and the region became fully integrated constitutionally with India.
Standing there felt surreal because history and normal life existed side by side.
Indian flags.
Tourists shopping.
Locals bargaining.
Traffic chaos. Basically the Kashmiri language we hardly understand it was all Greek and Latin it was only kish Mosh push and they had that slow tone to it. How can I forget our escorts? One damn nice the other behaved like that progressive olderly GenZ so much attitude haha!
Dry fruits.
Shawl shops.
Politics and everyday life somehow flowing together naturally.
And obviously, we also shopped like professionals. 😂
My favourite buy was the beautiful hand-embroidered Kashmiri bags with Chinar leaf designs. The Chinar tree is deeply symbolic to Kashmir its leaves changing from green to golden yellow to fiery red almost feels like the valley itself changing moods through the seasons.
We also bought fridge magnets from the state emporium because honestly, magnets are tiny emotional support memories.
And somehow, that’s exactly what this trip became too.
Tiny memories stitched together.
Horse ride trauma. Family laughter. Temple bells. Birthday surprises. Housie nights. Floating markets. Saffron shopping. Cold weather complaints. Grandmother strength. Scenic silence. Questionable dinners. Endless photographs.
Ending with my favourite click.
And maybe that’s the thing about Kashmir.
You don’t just come back with photographs.
You come back with stories, silence, laughter, and little pieces of yourself left behind in the mountains.
~ Love, Chukki ❤️
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