It was a freezing morning in the heart of summer. As I unzipped the tent and stepped outside, the entire Lidder Valley lay submerged in a soft veil of fog, quiet, ethereal, and utterly breathtaking. Stretching nearly 40 kilometers, the Lidder (or Liddar) Valley is a gorge valley near Pahalgam, a small town southeast of Srinagar, the summer capital of Jammu and Kashmir, India. Cradled high in the Himalayas, it unfolds as a meadow of rare beauty, where mist, mountains, and silence meet.
I decided to take a short walk while everyone was still asleep. The day before, we had spent a wonderful but very long day trekking to the glacier, it was beautiful, though exhausting. We returned to the campsite a bit late, and I hadn’t realized we had neighbors: a family of herders. I had heard stories about them and was eager to learn more, so I walked closer to their place.
Suddenly, the children approached me, curious about my camera. Using hand gestures, they asked if I could take their pictures. Luckily, I had brought Cici’s Polaroid camera with me, so I took a few photos and handed them the prints. To my surprise, they were overjoyed, running to their mother to show them the pictures. The mother, along with other woman, were busy in their outdoor kitchen preparing breakfast. They invited me to join them, and before long, I found myself enjoying a fresh cup of chai in their company.
The elderly man, who I assumed was the grandfather soon joined us by the cooking fire. He was cheerful and endlessly talkative, his words flowing faster than I could follow. Even though we didn’t share a language, I could feel his curiosity about me in the way he smiled and gestured. Back in 2017, there was no phone signal in the valley, no quick fix like Google Translate to bridge the gap. I listened carefully, hoping that somehow his meaning would reveal itself, wishing I could understand even just a little of what he was saying.
I stayed with them for nearly an hour, quietly observing the rhythm of their morning with off course an endless chai. The children played freely around the camp, laughing and chasing one another, while the adults moved with practiced ease, dismantling and preparing the tent for their next journey. Every rope, bundle, and folded fabric felt purposeful, as if the act of moving was woven into their daily life. Sitting there, I felt like a silent witness to a way of living shaped by the land, time, and tradition.
Every year, just as the winter’s snows begin to melt, the herder families begin the journey with their livestock back to the alpine pastures for grazing during the summer, before returning in September as the weather worsens.
As the morning unfolded in Lidder Valley, I realized that this brief encounter meant more to me than I had expected. Despite the language barrier, the warmth of the herder family, their shared chai, and the laughter of the children spoke clearly enough.
It reminded me that connection doesn’t always need words, sometimes it lives in gestures, smiles, and quiet moments of hospitality. Walking back to our campsite, I carried with me not just memories of the valley, but a deeper appreciation for the simple generosity that makes travel truly unforgettable.
Lidder Valley, Kashmir, India – August 2017