Chilai Kalan, Kashmir’s infamous 40-day winter marathon, is as much a test of endurance as it is a love letter to woolen pherans, kangris, and frozen Dal Lake selfies. But rewind 30 years, and you’d realize this frosty season wasn’t just cold—it was a survival drama, a rom-com, and sometimes even a horror movie rolled into one.
Chilai Kalan, 30 Years Ago; The Ice Age Edition: Winter in the 1990s wasn’t just cold; it was merciless. Think of stepping outside and feeling like a popsicle on legs. Back then, homes had wooden windows with the kind of “insulation” that let you experience nature’s wrath firsthand. The wind? It didn’t knock politely; it barged in, carrying snowflakes and gossip from the Himalayas.
Electricity? Ha! That was a mythical creature you heard about in other parts of India. If the bulb flickered for five minutes, people would celebrate like it was Diwali. The water taps would freeze into sculptural masterpieces, and breaking the ice in the morning for a wash was the ultimate strength test. Firewood-based hamams were a luxury, mostly found in some village or mohalla mosques. People would spend nearly one-third of their day in these warm havens, sharing stories, sipping nun chai, and thawing frozen limbs. Children, aged 10 to 20, turned the snowy slopes into playgrounds, using polythene sheets under their buttocks to ice skate. They’d get drenched in icy water, rush to the mosque hamam to warm up, and then head back out to repeat the adventure. Chillbani’s(Shoh) was a constant phenomenon around toes, outer ear pinna and sometimes fingers too. As for snacks, nothing beat the thrill of breaking off icicles hanging from rooftops—nature’s very own ice popsicles, crunchy and cold. And food? Fresh vegetables were a rare luxury buried under snow. Winter meals were dominated by dried vegetables (Gogji, Muji, And Alle Hachchi), the ever-reliable Razma Daal, and the eternal winter hero, Harissa, only available at selected locations of Srinagar city. Cooking Harissa wasn’t just a task; it was a neighborhood event. People would gather around wood-fired ovens, gossiping and stirring the pot, all while secretly judging whose kangri had the best charcoal.
“Chilai Kalan may have changed, but its icy grip still holds a special place in our hearts—and our frostbitten toes. Whether you’re a 1990s warrior or a 2024 Netflix-and-chill kind of Kashmiri, this frosty season is an annual reminder that no matter how modern life gets, snow will always bring us back to our roots (and sometimes knock us flat on icy roads).”
Chilai Kalan Today;The Netflix Edition: Fast forward to 2024, and Chilai Kalan feels more like a curated experience than a punishment. The taps no longer freeze, but Instagram does—flood with influencers posting “#FrozenKashmir” reels. Homes are decked out with electric heaters, thermal curtains, and backup inverters that hum like a lullaby. Kangris, while still around, have tough competition from fancy room heaters that promise “summer-like warmth.” Hamams, once the privilege of mosque gatherings, have become a status symbol in almost every so-called modern Kashmiri house. Electric hamams are now trending, offering instant warmth at the push of a button. The thrill of polythene-under-buttocks skating has been replaced by professional skating sessions, mostly in Gulmarg, where padded jackets and GoPro cameras have replaced woolen pherans and polythene sheets. And those iconic ice popsicles hanging from rooftops? They’re a rare sight now, and even if spotted, no one dares to eat them, thanks to modern hygiene consciousness and perhaps a fear of getting ill.Harissa has gone global now, available on food delivery apps with a side of naan and some French fries for the adventurous. Even the lakes have evolved! Dal Lake, 30 years ago, would freeze so solid that cricket matches were held on its surface. Today? It gets a light layer of ice, perfect for selfies but too fragile for sports. The snowmen of yesteryears have also upgraded—gone are the days of coal-button eyes and carrot noses. Now, they sport sunglasses and scarves, often accessorized with different ornaments for that urban-chic vibe. Chillbani’s (Shoh) is a past now.
Humor Remained Constant: Through it all, one thing remained unchanged: the unique humor that Kashmiri winters bring. The aunties still debate whether kangri or electric blankets are better, while uncles compare snowfall heights with exaggerated hand gestures. Chilai Kalan may have changed, but its icy grip still holds a special place in our hearts—and our frostbitten toes. Whether you’re a 1990s warrior or a 2024 Netflix-and-chill kind of Kashmiri, this frosty season is an annual reminder that no matter how modern life gets, snow will always bring us back to our roots (and sometimes knock us flat on icy roads).
(The author is a teacher at Govt Degree College Khansahib, Budgam. The views, opinions and conclusions expressed in this article are those of the author and aren’t necessarily in accord with the views of “Kashmir Horizon”)
