When the Rivers Sang

Long before tourism brochures and camera-tipped shikaras, Kashmiris took to the waters in Dongas, wooden boats that carried songs, stories, and the scent of Wazwan through a gentler world.

- Shereen Naman

I 'n the Kashmir of the 1940s, when the rivers were still arteries of life and leisure, a journey on a Donga was a small act of joy.

These long, arched wooden boats, shaped like floating homes, once glided across the Jhelum, Dal, and Wular, carrying families, friends, and musicians through the slow-moving heart of the valley.

A Donga cruise was both travel and tradition, a festival that unfolded on water.

People would set off for days, with their neatly-packed belongings and unburdened hearts. The river was their road, and the lake their destination. Weddings, fairs, or simple outings became occasions for collective celebration.

It was common to see a flotilla of Dongas on the way to Mela Qamar Sahib in Ganderbal or toward the Hazratbal Shrine, where faith and festivity met at the lake's edge.

By the time they reached Hazratbal, the waters seemed to calm themselves. The white dome of the Dargah shimmered in the distance, reflected in Dal's mirror-like surface.

For many, this was less a pilgrimage than a pause, a chance to think, breathe, and feel the pulse of life in the steady lap of the oar. Faith flowed with the current, and the soft recitation of prayers merged with the sound of ripples, turning each journey into a meditation.

The music was never far behind. Sufiana musicians often accompanied these voyages, their instruments tuned to the hum of the river. Among them was Ghulam Mohammed Qaleenbaff, a master of Sufiana Kalam, whose name still stirs nostalgia among the older generation.