Why I Haunted Gulmarg at Midnight (Spoiler: The Thermostat’s a Liar)

gulmarg is the kinda place that looks like a snow globe but the snow melted three months ago. there’s a whole vibe here where goats are your neighbors and your airstbnb host swears the historic srinagar road is haunted by a 19th-century dude who hated tourists. i didn’t sleep last night.

found a rusted jeep parked on a cliff road at 2am. no license plate. windshield cracked so wide it could take a peace treaty. local kid offered me tea from a plastic cup shaped like a skull. said the government prohibited it but he’s still here because "rules are for people who pay taxes."

*weather: i just checked and it’s 24.27°C with the humidity dropping like a bad beat. feels like 23.27 because the thermostat’s been stuck on 'perma-summer' for a week. someone next door is burning something-could be incense, could be trash. they’re also blasting a faint rendition of 'bohemian rhapsody' on a speaker the size of a kayak.

reviews: heard from three separate strangers that the frozen lake turns into a minefield when the monsoon hits. didn’t believe ’em till i saw a guy with a snorkel and a can of spray paint. allegedly marks his trail to the 'real gulmarg'-a secret village where the ghosts of the 1857 rebellion still negotiate with the locals over chuba bread.

map time:

pro tips: there’s a hidden bhang bar above the pine forest. the owner only serves it to people who can recite their first name, last name, and the name of the goat they’ll sacrifice to enter. also, wear hiking boots and flip-flops in case the uphill road gives you crippling tunnel vision.

my notes: saw a stray cat drag a snake into a shrine. the locals didn’t react. considered joining but my backpack was full of protein bars. later found out the shrine was built in 1600s by a king who swore he’d die a virgin. probably did.

[insert image of gulmarg snowscape with title "mountain backdrop.jpg" via Unsplash] [img src="" alt="" width="100%"]

final take:* gulmarg is not a destination. it’s a pulse. a dial you twist to unhear every lie you ever told. the stars here are so loud they talk. don’t listen. go anyway.