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After a long journey through the day, we reached the heart of Kashmir, Srinagar at 9 PM. The driver of our cab, Jibran Beg, was a jolly man. There was a bit of language barrier, but he would crack jokes and keep us entertained all the way. When we stopped at a dhaba earlier for lunch, he suggested a horse ride. Thus, we acquired an unforgettable memory of riding horses through the majestic hilly valleys of Sonmarg – it did seem like “a piece of heaven on land”, as Kashmir is often called. So, Kashmir felt very nice, with the people so amicable and alive too. We found a hotel at about 10 PM. We bid the cab goodbye, took our bags in, settled in a few rooms. Now, it is in our nature to take a stroll out at night. The darker hours are unique to each city and I like to have a taste of nightly food carts that are gone by the morning. Suhag, Faiza and I, went out together to get dinner for all. Night streets in Srinagar were neon. We walked under a yellowish dim light and there was a nice breeze. We looked for restaurants, but found stores closing, shopkeepers pulling the shutters. Was it normal during this time? I couldn’t be sure. We found a biriyani shop and asked for takeaways. They had almost closed off too, and sold us food through a half-closed shutter. There was something about their behaviour. When we asked what else they had, a boy reluctantly replied, “You better go back. They called a curfew tomorrow.” I got pretty worried. Suhag assured that it's fine, “The last time I came, the army were on patrol, we saw troops at every corner, in broad daylight.” “So this is the definition of normal here”, I thought. We took the biriyani and went back to hotel, but I was at unease. The journey from past few days caught up to me. It was a once-in-a-lifetime experience, now when I think about it, but I “almost” had a row about it with my friends, especially good Suhag, who had efficiently managed everything, and good Faiza clarified the situation. Either way, we went to our rooms with a lingering anxiety for the next day. Whatever we figured, nobody at all predicted the next events. I, Debapriya and Saba, my other mates, were in deep sleep from being very tired. Then in the morning, there were urgent loud bangs on the door. It almost woke me up but I hardly bothered. My sleep is “my precious”, I wouldn’t break it to watch “a beautiful sunrise”. Even if I did, I would stay grumpy for half a day. Suhag would usually knock exactly like an alarm bell, with 10 minutes snooze-time in between, and Debapriya would open the door to say- “We’re not going for the sunrise”. It would be him, so I thought. Apparently, it was Jibran Beg. He came with news. The curfew had been enforced, citizens are restricted from going out and tourists have to leave Kashmir immediately. The hotels had been ordered to not keep any tourists in. Army officers let us, the tourists, go but one guard was going to beat up Jibran for being out with his car. While arguing with the officer, good Jibran resembled a man fighting for freedom. He dropped us at the airport and Kashmir got completely cut off from the outside world. We could only hear riots and thousands of voices chanting- “Aayi aayi aazaadi”, “Hum chahtey aazaadi”. The tourist police were helpful, and a safe-zone hotel nearby let us stay as we couldn’t leave until our flight two days later. We got all support we needed from a country in war. After that, we left on our scheduled flight. But, never could we connect to Jibran Beg again, we don't know if he reached home safely after dropping us at the airport risking his life. True that we could not explore Kashmir like we expected, but we witnessed miracles – a war-stricken beauty. I invite all fellow travellers to acknowledge the struggles of this beauty, and from human vileness, I pray Kashmir becomes free.