A Season of Silence and Splendour

As quoted by Mahmud Ghami:

Snow blankets the mountains, and fragrance fills the air,
Every hilltop bears witness, as graves rise to view in despair.

As the last autumn leaves fall in Kashmir, an air of quiet anticipation settles over the valley. For Kashmiris, the approaching winter isn’t merely a season; it’s an age-old tradition, an annual adventure, and a celebration of resilience. You’ll find no ordinary winter preparations here—instead, a blend of age-old customs, cozy gatherings, and hearty feasts that speak to a way of life deeply attuned to the cold yet magnificent Kashmiri winters. It’s a time when family bonds tighten, fires burn bright, and the heart of Kashmiri culture beats strongest.

It’s early November  and Khadija Bano wraps her granddaughter snugly in a pheran, a long, woollen gown that has kept Kashmiris warm for centuries. She smiles as she hands the child her first kangri—a small clay pot nestled in a woven basket, filled with glowing embers. This portable heater, tucked under the pheran, radiates a cozy warmth. For the little girl, it's not just a heater; it's a rite of passage, a warm embrace that says, “You’re ready for winter, just like generations before you.”

The kangri isn’t merely an object—it’s a symbol of tradition and a necessity, cradled in the laps of men and women alike. Families often give kangris as gifts during winter, choosing patterns and colors unique to each person. As the Valley transforms under a white cloak, the sight of people holding kangris under their pherans becomes as familiar as the snow itself, painting a picture of Kashmir’s resilience.

Kashmiris don’t just survive winter; they thrive on it, beginning with the foods that warm from within. In the kitchens, the aroma of harissa fills the air—a traditional, slow-cooked delicacy made of tender mutton and spices, stirred through the night until it reaches creamy perfection. For families, gathering around a steaming pot of harissa on a chilly morning is as cherished as any holiday. Locals say that a bowl of harissa doesn’t just fill the stomach—it fuels the soul, infusing warmth that lingers.

Preservation also becomes a ritual. As autumn wanes, families dry vegetables and herbs, transforming them into hokh syun (dried vegetables), carefully stored for the months when fresh produce is scarce. These are then simmered in fragrant gravies, a reminder of the green harvests even in winter’s grip. Sips of kahwa, the legendary saffron-infused tea with a hint of cinnamon and crushed almonds, complete each meal—a reminder that luxury and simplicity often go hand-in-hand.

Preparing a Kashmiri home for winter is as intricate as a ritual. Traditional homes feature a hamam, a stone floor heated by wood or charcoal fires beneath it, radiating warmth through the entire room. Picture a family gathered in the central room, wrapped in blankets, their laughter mingling with the scent of burning wood. In the dead of winter, the hamam isn’t just a room; it’s the heartbeat of the home, a place where stories, songs, and traditions are shared.

For added insulation, homes are lined with namdas, thick woollen carpets that keep the floor warm, and layered with patej, wooden ceilings that trap warmth. It’s common to see households tucking in for the winter with these handcrafted touches, as Kashmiris transform their homes into sanctuaries against the biting cold.

Life in Kashmir takes on a different rhythm during winter. Days begin with the sunrise and end early, with most activity wrapped up by sunset. Social gatherings become smaller, more intimate. Winter weddings, though fewer, bring a unique warmth as guests huddle together, savouring steaming cups of noon chai, the salty pink tea, and dining on traditional wazwan, the multi-course Kashmiri feast.

Neighbours become each other’s lifelines in the snow-covered landscape. Helping clear a path after a snowfall, sharing dried foods, and visiting each other on icy nights become part of the winter camaraderie. There’s an unspoken understanding: in winter, everyone is a little colder, but together, they’re also a little warmer.

As the snow settles, Kashmiris embrace the quiet that winter brings, turning to family and storytelling. Elders recount tales of the valley’s ancient kings, stories of laila majnu and mystical jinns, tales that seem to echo in the snowy silence. Grandparents pass down the history, traditions, and superstitions that have colored Kashmiri culture for centuries, each story as warming as the embers in their kangris.

One elder recounts the fable of Wandeh Koth, the spirit of winter, who is said to roam the valley and visit each home, assessing the warmth and hospitality within. The legend reminds Kashmiris to cherish warmth and community, and to care for each other—because winter, no matter how harsh, can always be softened by kindness.

Winter is a season of contrasts in Kashmir—both challenging and captivating. For every snowstorm that tests the valley, there’s a sunlit morning when the snow glistens like diamonds, reminding the people of the beauty in endurance. As they sip kahwa by the fire, wrap themselves in pherans, and share stories under warm blankets, Kashmiris know that winter is more than a struggle; it’s a cherished part of their heritage.

For the people of Kashmir, winter isn’t just a season—it’s a story of resilience, warmth, and cultural pride. Each tradition, from the comforting glow of the kangri to the taste of morning harissa, reflects a deep connection to the valley and to one another. In preparing for winter, Kashmiris create an experience that is uniquely theirs, a blend of ingenuity and age-old wisdom passed down through generations.

As snow blankets the mountains and the days grow shorter, the spirit of Kashmir remains unwavering. Winter here is as much a celebration as it is a challenge, bringing families closer, neighbours together, and communities stronger. It reminds them that, even in the coldest moments, warmth can be found—not just in fires and clothing, but in the bonds they share and the traditions they cherish.

In embracing winter, Kashmiris do more than survive—they thrive, honoring the beauty in both nature and resilience. With each year, winter strengthens their legacy, a quiet testament to their love for this land and the life they have built within it. And when spring finally arrives, it is welcomed not only with relief but with reverence, knowing that winter, once again, has enriched their lives and bound them closer together.