When I first arrived in Srinagar, I expected to encounter the vision Bollywood has long portrayed—the “Heaven on Earth” filled with soldiers at every corner, fearful people, and an atmosphere of tension. However, nothing could have prepared me for the deep and complex beauty of Kashmir that lay beyond the romanticised images of snow-covered mountains and the constant backdrop of conflict. What I found instead was a region rich in culture, tradition, and vibrant artistic heritage, often overlooked in favour of cinematic stereotypes.
Growing up on a steady diet of Hindi films, I, like many others, had been conditioned to see Kashmir primarily as a land of turmoil. It was portrayed as a beautiful yet dangerous backdrop, where the hero would either be caught in the crossfire of a political conflict or flee from an impending disaster. But my trip to Srinagar was about to change all of that.
My itinerary was simple. I wanted to experience the renowned Shikara ride on Dal Lake, as every Bollywood film set in Kashmir seemed to feature this iconic activity. I expected to be bombarded with aggressive bargaining and a dozen men vying for my attention as soon as I set foot near the lake. But to my surprise, as I approached the banks, I saw something I never expected: Uber. Yes, Uber, right there by the serene waters of Dal Lake. Without wasting a minute, I pulled out my phone and booked a ride, with no bargaining, no hassle. It was a simple, seamless process—one that added an element of modernity and convenience to the timeless beauty of the lake.
Intrigued by this development, my journalistic instincts kicked in. I approached several Shikara riders to ask their opinions on Uber’s arrival. Wali Muhammad Bhat, the President of the All J&K Taxi Shikara Owners Association, explained to me how they had embraced this change. “With Uber, things have become simpler,” he said. “Tourists can now book a ride with ease, and for us, it brings more customers. It’s a win-win situation. We’re optimistic that it will boost tourism and, in turn, strengthen the local economy.” His words revealed that the integration of technology was not a threat to tradition, but rather a bridge that could make the experience smoother for everyone involved.
I also met Abdul Razaq, a Shikara owner who had spent an incredible 60 years on the waters. Abdul had a fascinating story to tell. He was once part of the team that featured in iconic Bollywood films like Kashmir Ki Kali and Yeh Chand Sa Roshan Chehra. “The stars loved us,” he chuckled as he recalled those glamorous days. “It was a time of celebration. The actors were kind, and the crew was always generous.” But the most striking part of his conversation was about the Shikara itself. “It costs about 3.5 lakh rupees to build one Shikara, and each one is painted with intricate designs by our own hands,” he shared. “It’s not just a boat; it’s a piece of art.”
This sense of craftsmanship was something I witnessed again when I visited the heart of old Srinagar to find the finest Pashmina shawls. As I walked through the bustling lanes, I met Syed Fazal, a local entrepreneur running an NGO that worked with local artisans to help them eliminate middlemen. He took me to an old building, where I was introduced to a group of Pashmina artisans and paper-mâché artists.
The Pashmina artisans shared the depth of their work, which I had never fully understood until then. “It takes at least 50 days to make a simple Pashmina without any design work,” one artisan explained, “and we depend on exhibitions to showcase our work. It’s not easy to make a living off of such intricate craftsmanship.” Another artisan chimed in, “A master Pashmina artist may spend his entire life creating only two extraordinary shawls—because each one is a lifetime’s work.”
The dedication to their craft was overwhelming. Every stroke, every thread, was a testament to the patience and precision required to create these masterpieces. “It’s a labour of love,” said one of the older artisans, “and we hope the world will recognize the value of what we do.”
As I moved on to the paper-mâché artisans, their passion was equally evident. One artisan explained, “We use ancient techniques, passed down through generations. Every piece is painstakingly crafted, and the time it takes to create one piece can span days, sometimes weeks.” Another artisan added, “It’s a craft that doesn’t have much recognition. But when we create something special, it makes the struggle worthwhile.”
The same sentiment echoed from the copper artisans I met later. “We create copperware the traditional way,” one copper artisan said. “Each piece is a reflection of our culture. It’s more than just an object; it’s a story of our heritage.”
As I roamed through the winding lanes of Srinagar, it became clear that every corner of the city told a story rich in culture, art, and history. The architecture, the crafts, the food, and the people all blended into a beautiful tapestry of tradition. Yet, in most Bollywood films, Kashmir is reduced to a one-dimensional image of conflict. The vast cultural richness of the region is often ignored or overlooked. Bollywood’s portrayal of Kashmir focused almost exclusively on its political struggles, does a disservice to the people and the heritage of this land.
Kashmir’s beauty lies not just in its landscapes but also in the artistry and warmth of its people. The kindness of the Shikara owners, the tireless work of the Pashmina artisans, and the dedication of the copper and paper-mâché craftsmen all speak of a place far more complex and profound than the world is often led to believe. Kashmir is a region brimming with love, warmth, and tradition, and it’s time Bollywood reflected that. The true Kashmir deserves to be seen—a place not only defined by its tragic past but also by its incredible cultural heritage. It’s time to give Kashmir its due, to showcase not just the violence but the artistry, the stories, and the people that make it one of the world’s most fascinating regions.