Rizwan Rumi
It’s a sunny afternoon in Kashmir. The valleys hum with the murmur of streams, the air carries the scent of pine, and the snow-capped mountains form a postcard-perfect backdrop. Amid this breathtaking landscape, a peculiar scene unfolds: a local, armed with a microphone, approaches a wide-eyed tourist.
“How do you feel in Kashmir?”
“How does it look to you?”
“Are we not the warmest, kindest people you’ve ever met?”
Caught off guard, the tourist fumbles for an appropriate response, usually settling for something like, “It’s beautiful, and the people are so hospitable.” Cameras roll, social media accounts buzz, and just like that, another “certificate of approval” for Kashmir’s warmth and splendor is secured.
But why do we, the people of Kashmir, seek this validation so fervently? Why this collective need to ask, “How do we look?” Have decades of strife and misrepresentation left us insecure about our identity and culture?
The Theatre of Hospitality
Hospitality in Kashmir is no recent phenomenon. It is a tradition as old as the Chinars that dot its landscapes. From the bustling Silk Route of ancient times to the grandeur of Mughal caravans, Kashmiris have always been celebrated for their generosity. Kindness and warmth are deeply ingrained in the Kashmiri ethos, woven into the cultural fabric over centuries.
Yet, today’s hospitality often feels less like genuine warmth and more like a performance. The relentless questioning of tourists about their experience feels akin to auditioning for a reality show titled “Kashmir: The Warmest Place on Earth.” Ironically, we’re already champions of this unspoken contest, so why the need to overcompensate?
The Need for Validation
This obsession with validation has deeper roots. Years of conflict and negative media portrayals have painted Kashmir in shades of turmoil and mistrust. The scars of this narrative have perhaps left us yearning to be seen in a softer, more humane light. Asking tourists to “rate” us may feel like a counterbalance to these stereotypes, a way to reclaim our image.
While this desire to challenge misperceptions is understandable, the method is flawed. Hospitality, when authentic, doesn’t seek applause. It is quiet, profound, and deeply felt, not staged or orchestrated for cameras. The essence of true Kashmiri hospitality lies in selflessness, not in the desperate need for validation.
The Difference Between Unfiltered and Staged Experiences
Imagine a tourist arriving in Kashmir for the first time. They’re greeted by the serene Dal Lake, the vibrant Mughal gardens, and the simple joy of sipping noon chai under a crisp sky. These are the moments that linger—unfiltered, spontaneous, and heartfelt.
Contrast this with the intrusion of a microphone thrust in their face, demanding immediate reactions. Instead of soaking in the valley’s magic, the tourist is cornered into articulating their feelings—often before they’ve had a chance to form them. Such encounters, however well-meaning, risk diluting the very essence of hospitality we’re eager to showcase.
“How Do I Look?”: A Tale of Vanity
This tendency isn’t limited to tourism. It reflects a broader societal shift toward seeking approval and external validation. Be it curating the perfect social media post or orchestrating a tourist’s reaction, the focus has shifted from authenticity to appearance.
But true hospitality isn’t a vanity project. It doesn’t ask, “How do I look?” It simply is. The act of offering kahwa to a stranger, ensuring a tourist’s safety during a shikara ride, or saying a silent prayer for a departing guest—these are acts of genuine kindness that need no spotlight.
Silent, Selfless, and Sincere
Real hospitality thrives in the quiet corners of everyday life. It doesn’t demand acknowledgment; it is felt, not advertised. A guest who experiences this will carry memories far richer than any scripted interaction or social media reel.
Instead of surrounding tourists with questions and cameras, why not let them explore Kashmir at their own pace? Allow them the space to wander through our bazaars, marvel at our landscapes, and connect with our people organically. Let their impressions form naturally, untainted by our eagerness to hear words of approval.
The Way Forward
It’s time for us to pause and reflect. Why do we feel the need to put on this spectacle of hospitality? Is it a symptom of insecurity, or have we simply forgotten what it means to be truly hospitable?
The next time a tourist visits, let’s resist the urge to play host and interviewer simultaneously. Instead, let’s welcome them with warmth, share our stories over a steaming cup of kahwa, and then step back. Trust that the beauty of Kashmir and its people will speak for itself.
True hospitality doesn’t need validation. It doesn’t ask, “How do I look in this outfit of kindness?” It simply opens its arms and says, “You’re home.”
So, dear tourist, forgive us for our overenthusiasm. It’s not a lack of sincerity but perhaps an overcompensation for years of misrepresentation. With time, we hope to remember that the best hospitality is not performed; it’s lived. Until then, enjoy the valleys, savor the warmth, and know that you’re always welcome in our home.
(Note: Dr. Rizwan Rumi, a freelance writer and columnist, contributes to leading national and international publications. Contact: rizwanroomi2012@gmail.com)
