The village of the Shepherds - Pahalgam

Rachna Vinod

Rachna Vinod

“The village of the shepherds” — that’s what Pahalgam means, but no name could fully capture the magic that unfolds here. Somewhere between myth and meadow, glacier and grazing ground, this high Himalayan valley cradles not only flocks of sheep but stories of gods, nomads, and nature in quiet communion. In Pahalgam, every winding trail tells a tale, every pine tree holds a prayer, and every stone seems to remember the soft tread of hooves or the weight of a pilgrim’s longing. Step into this village not just to see, but to listen — to rivers that hum with memory and mountains that speak in silence.

In the lush southern reaches of Kashmir, where the Lidder River weaves its silver thread through pine forests and flower-strewn meadows, lies a place whose very name evokes a sense of quiet timelessness — Pahalgam. The name, in its native Kashmiri, means “village of the shepherds,” with Puheyl standing for shepherd and goam for village. Yet this tranquil name conceals within it layers of mythology, memory, and cultural richness that few places in the Himalayas can match. Long before it became a favoured retreat for tourists or a base for pilgrims, Pahalgam existed in the lore and livelihoods of Kashmiris as a sacred threshold, a place where both gods and nomads paused on their journeys.

In ancient Hindu tradition, the region is remembered as Bailgaon, the village of the bull. The story goes that Lord Shiva, on his way to the sacred cave of Amarnath to impart the secrets of creation to Goddess Parvati, stopped here to leave behind Nandi, his beloved bull. From this symbolic act of renunciation began his final ascent toward the cave of immortality. This tale transformed the quiet shepherd’s village into a mythological crossing point, not just in geography but in spirit — a place where worldly attachments are left behind. Even today, this sacred association endures in the form of the annual Amarnath Yatra, one of the holiest pilgrimages in Hinduism, which begins right here in Pahalgam every July and August. With chants of “Bam Bam Bhole,” thousands of devotees gather in the town to commence their trek toward the icy sanctum of Shiva, some by foot and some on horseback.

Long before the pilgrims arrive, and long after they depart, Pahalgam continues to be shaped by the footsteps of another kind of traveller — the nomadic herder. For generations, the green valleys and alpine meadows of this region have been traversed by the Gujjars and Bakarwals, pastoral communities whose lives are anchored to the seasonal migrations of their flocks. These families practice transhumance, moving with their sheep and goats from lower altitudes in the winter to the lush summer pastures in the higher reaches. The meadows of Aru, Baisaran and the distant ridges around Kolahoi, have long been grazing lands, their abundance dictated by glacial melt and monsoon rhythm.

To live as a shepherd in Pahalgam is not merely to guide animals but to understand the pulse of the land. The elders of these communities read weather patterns in cloud shapes, locate edible herbs among dense growth, and tell time by the light on the cliffs. Women milk the livestock at dawn and churn butter in wooden vessels as children race among wildflowers. Nights are spent under the stars in makeshift huts called dhoks, built from birch bark and stone. Life here moves to the rhythm of nature, and the knowledge of these people is passed not through books but through songs, stories, and muscle memory.

The ecological richness of Pahalgam plays a crucial role in sustaining this pastoral way of life. Located at an altitude of 2,200 metres above sea level, the valley is nourished by the icy waters of the Lidder River, which originates in the glacial lakes of the Sheshnag range. The region’s biodiversity is extraordinary — from coniferous forests teeming with langurs and bears to meadows filled with medicinal herbs and delicate alpine flowers. Trout fish glide through the Lidder’s currents, while pine martens and ibex navigate the rocky ridges. These landscapes are not untouched wilderness; they are living, working terrains shaped over centuries by human presence that respects the seasonal rhythms and regenerative cycles of nature.

But Pahalgam is not only a pastoral paradise or a sacred waypoint. It is also a landscape of transformation. Over the last few decades, the town has become a major tourist destination. The same meadows that once saw only the slow movement of herds now carry tourists on horseback, newlyweds posing for photographs, and film crews capturing the valley’s unspoiled charm. From the pine glades of Aru to the dramatic glacier-fed vistas of Chandanwari, Pahalgam is now firmly on the tourist map, often bustling with activity during the summer season. The economic opportunities brought by tourism have changed the local way of life. Many young people from shepherd families now find work as trekking guides, pony-wallahs, hotel staff, or artisans catering to visitors. Mobile towers stand tall where grazing sheep once slept. Schools have replaced shepherd trails as centres of childhood learning, and many elders speak of a time when life was slower, more attuned to the land.

This march of modernity is not without its complications. With the influx of visitors come the challenges of waste, water scarcity, and habitat disturbance. The increase in yatra traffic during pilgrimage season adds to the environmental stress on the fragile alpine ecology. Plastic and noise travel to places where silence and sacredness once prevailed. And for the pastoral communities, whose grazing routes are now frequently disrupted or claimed for commercial development, the question of cultural survival looms large. Traditional knowledge systems, once passed down with reverence, are gradually fading from collective memory.

Yet amid these changes, something essential remains — a spirit of continuity, of belonging. On a quiet morning, if one walks beyond the town’s bustle and climbs the slopes toward Lidderwat or meanders into the inner meadows of Baisaran, one may still find a shepherd family camped beside a stream, boiling tea over a fire, while children chase lambs through the wildflowers. These are not performances for tourists but real lives being lived — lives anchored in a landscape that has been both home and horizon.

Pahalgam, in this sense, is not merely a place but a living story of silent wisdom, of a world that resists easy categorisation, of gods who walked the earth, of humans who followed the stars, and of rivers that remember every footstep. It is a place where nature and mythology converse, where the sacred and the ordinary blend seamlessly, where the past walks alongside the present. To visit Pahalgam is not simply to arrive at a place — it is to return to a rhythm. It is to remember a way of living where the sky sets the calendar, the earth gives its wisdom, and stories walk with you like shadows. In the stillness of its meadows, in the soft bleating of sheep or the quiet life of its people, Pahalgam continues to speak — of simplicity, of a village where if you walk slowly enough, it will let you hear what only silence can say.

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Bio: Rachna Vinod is a multilingual poet, writer, and broadcaster, creatively active in Hindi, Urdu, English, and Dogri. Her works are powerful expressions of human sensitivity, contemporary reality, and cultural consciousness, and have been broadcast through various platforms, including All India Radio. She has enriched literature by contributing to over 20 solo books and more than 25 collaborative anthologies.

Major Published Works:

• Urdu: Yasmeen-e-Sugandh, Mere Humsafar
• English: Eternal Heritage, Shahada Aisha, I Am Here Only, Bridging The Gap, Lotus Lore, Kashmir Konnectivity: A Biosketch
• Hindi: Ankahi Sargam, Pighalte Himkhand (Poetry Collection), Madhyaratrik Kshan, Parvaton ke Daayare (Short Story Collection)
• Dogri: Adya Madya Geeten Bharaya, Hirkhi Phuhar, Aakhi Lai Dile Di Gall

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Setu, September 2025