Dal Lake’s Floating Market: Where business beats the cold
Srinagar, Jan 16: The ice on Dal Lake is thick enough to walk on, but Ghulam Hassan isn’t walking—he’s smashing through it with a wooden pole, one brutal strike at a time.
It’s 6:30 AM, and the temperature has dropped to minus 6 degrees Celsius. Hassan can’t feel his fingers anymore, but he keeps breaking ice because there’s a boat full of vegetables that needs to reach the floating market, and no amount of cold is going to stop him.
“The vegetables don’t care that it’s freezing,” Hassan says through chattering teeth. “The shopkeepers still need vegetables. So we go.”
Welcome to Kashmir’s famous floating vegetable market in Dal Lake, during Chillai Kalan—the region’s harshest winter period—where farmers like Hassan sell their produce from traditional wooden shikaras in conditions that would shut down most markets anywhere else in the world.
The market, which has operated on Dal Lake for over a century, transforms into something almost unrecognisable during deep winter. The picturesque scene that draws tourists in warmer months becomes a desperate struggle against ice, freezing water, and cold so severe it can destroy an entire day’s produce in minutes.
By 6:45 a.m, roughly two dozen shikaras have converged at the market spot, each having fought through ice channels to get there. The boats are piled with fresh vegetables—cauliflower, radishes, turnips, leafy greens, potatoes—all covered with tarps and blankets to protect them from the killing frost.
“I brought cabbage today,” says Bilal Dar, stamping his feet in the shikara to keep blood flowing. “Good cabbage from my field. But if buyers don’t come soon, this cold will ruin it. You can see it already starting to wilt at the edges.”
The vendors huddle in their pherans, passing around a kangri filled with hot coals. Steam rises from the fire pot, the only warmth for miles. Nobody’s smiling. Nobody’s joking. During Chillai Kalan, the floating market is strictly business—sell fast, get home before you freeze.
The buyers know the stakes. Farooq Ahmad arrives on a larger shikara just after 7 am, looking for fresh produce for the three restaurants he supplies in Lal Chowk. His breath comes out in thick clouds.
“I need spinach, turnips, and whatever greens they have,” Ahmad says, navigating between the vendor boats. “These men are out here in this hell to sell vegetables. The least I can do is show up and buy.”
The haggling is minimal. A vendor holds up a bunch of radishes. Ahmad nods. Money is exchanged, fingers too cold to count properly. The radishes get loaded. The vendor immediately covers the remaining produce again—every second of exposure to the cold is dangerous.
“In summer, we talk and laugh while we sell,” says Abdul Rashid, arranging bundles of mustard greens in his shikara.
Not every farmer makes sales. Mohammad Yusuf sits quietly in his boat, his cauliflowers still unsold as the morning wears on. “I might have to throw these in the lake,” he admits, his voice flat with resignation. “Once the cold damages them, they’re worthless. Better to go home empty than carry frozen vegetables back.”
The floating market during Chillai Kalan operates on brutal efficiency. Vegetables that survive the cold get sold. Vegetables that don’t get dumped. Farmers who break through the ice earn something. Farmers who can’t break through stay home and earn nothing.
“People think this market is about tradition,” says Mushtaq Ahmed, who’s been selling vegetables from his shikara for 34 years.
“Tradition doesn’t feed your family. These vegetables feed my family. That’s why I’m here breaking ice when it’s minus 10. Not for tradition—for survival.”
