(MENAFN- Kashmir Observer) A City That Trades and Tills
Walk through Jamia Market in Nowhatta on any regular day and you'll be met with a chaos that feels oddly organized.
Shops selling burqas, spices, steelware, shoes, and saris compete for space and attention. On Fridays and festivals, the lanes are packed wall-to-wall. The market doesn't pause, it pulses.
A short walk from here takes you to Zaina Kadal, home to a mundi famous for dry fruits, copper utensils, and wholesale goods. For generations, villagers from across Kashmir have come here with lists and sacks, returning home with spice-laden satchels and pots that shine like mirrors.
Yet, a silent economy thrives too. In parts of Khanyar, Kawdara, and Dumbpora, families still till small plots of land. They grow haakh, radish, peppers, and turnips.
The soil here has memory. It remembers the hands that worked it for decades. Most of these cultivators belong to the Sufi caste, and while their vegetables are welcomed at the market, old social codes still draw invisible lines.
Matches between merchant Bhats and Sufi growers are rare. No one says it aloud, but it's known.
Where Mud Walls Speak
The homes in Downtown are not just buildings. They are stories made of mud bricks and carved wood. Many are two or three stories tall, their walls thick with earth and time. Niches flank wooden windows, a nod to Indo-Persian design. Some homes sprawl with five or six rooms, others hold just two.
And yet, they shelter entire families-often three generations under one roof.
In Gojwara, not far from Islamia College, one such house stands tall like a weathered castle, refusing to crumble. But many others haven't been so lucky.
Over the last two decades, concrete has begun to replace mud. With it goes the artistry-the fine Burzil Lakir wood beams, the graceful arches, the quiet dignity of a home that breathes with the seasons.
Shops now line what used to be drawing rooms, and whole facades have been restructured to face the road and trade.
The shift isn't just architectural. It's personal.“We wanted a stronger house, less maintenance,” says Basharat, a 38-year-old shopkeeper in Rajouri Kadal.“But sometimes I miss the silence of the old walls.”
Different Tongues, Different Ties
Downtown and Uptown Srinagar are just a few kilometers apart. But to locals, they might as well be different worlds.
In the civil lines of Srinagar-areas like Rajbagh or Bemina-families tend to live in nuclear units. Government jobs are common, and houses sit further apart.
In Downtown, joint families still thrive, though many young couples now dream of their own flats.
The way people speak also shifts as you move through the city.“We speak pure Kashmiri here,” says Ali Mohammad Lone from Gojwara.“Uptown, it's mixed with Urdu.”
Even clothes differ. While Downtown men still wear pherans in winter and khandrass in summer, Uptown folks lean toward formal shirts and jeans. The difference isn't rigid, but it's felt.
Of Shrines and Saints
You can't walk ten minutes in the Old City without passing a shrine.
From the elegant spires of Dastgeer Sahib in Khanyar to the hilltop calm of Makhdoom Sahib in Nowhatta, these structures shape both the skyline and the spirit of the place.
Near Fateh Kadal, the Khanqah-e-Moula glows with woodwork and history. And then there's Jamia Masjid, the architectural crown of Nowhatta, where pigeons fly in slow arcs and prayers rise like mist.
This is a city of saints. Moulvi Abbas Ansari, a respected Shia cleric, hailed from Nawakadal. Dr. Ali Jan, the legendary physician whose diagnostics were said to be near mystical, was from Gojwara. His name now graces a road that leads to SKIMS hospital.
The homes of potters, woodcarvers, shawl weavers, and papier-mâché artists still survive, though many are slowly fading into silence.
Hawal was once famous for shawl-making; Zadibal for its painted papier-mâché.
Today, young men with smartphones are more likely to be found scrolling job sites than dipping brushes in dye.
Women at the Margin
Life for women in the Old City is changing, but slowly. Most are still homemakers, preparing meals, managing children, and rarely stepping beyond the neighborhood alone.
“There's a kind of boundary,” says Nasreen, 28, from Bohri Kadal.“Not spoken, but always there.”
Headscarves are the norm, and while younger women study and dream, traditional roles remain deeply rooted.
Working outside is not taboo, but it often comes with whispered questions.“We are proud of our girls,” says one elder.“But we want them safe.”
A Bowl of Haakh-Batti
Economically, the Old City survives on what it grows, sells, or weaves. But wealth here is modest.
Locals sometimes refer to their meals as Haakh-Batti-collard greens and rice-not with shame, but with gratitude. It's a phrase that speaks of sustenance, not luxury.
Some families have relatives, children working abroad. Others run shops passed down from grandparents. A few are professors or clerks. But mostly, this is a place where people live on trade, craft, and a little faith.
As Srinagar changes-its roads widened, its homes rebuilt, its youth pulled by bigger dreams-the Old City stands at a crossroads. It is learning to stretch without snapping, to adapt without forgetting.
And if you listen closely, above the buzz of scooters and the clang of copper, you can still hear the soft murmur of the past: steady, stubborn, and alive.
The writer is PG History and an independent researcher.
Follow this link to join our WhatsApp group : Join Now
Comments
No comment