Before that, I had been to Kashmir in the August of 1997.It had been a bad time to visit the valley, starved as it had been of its main industry, tourism, for the last decade. There was a hungry look, there was pallour all around. This was not the Kashmir I had heard about, less dreamed of. This was a Kashmir which was stooping with burden, its lifeline being snuffed out by an oppressive politics of terror. But with the advent of new tourists, the spark had returned to the eyes of the houseboat owners and the trickle was to soon turn into a rush of tourist traffic. In fact, during May-June of 1999, the valley saw a boom in tourism. Hotels were full, the flowers in full bloom. Heaven had set up court again.

But Kargil was waiting to happen. Dreams were to be shattered. In March, I had seen a new sense of self-confidence in the valley; the people were happy and this was reflected in their zest for life. The war was to change all that.

M.Ashraf, director general of the Jammu and Kashmir tourism department, is one of the more practical men in Srinagar; he feels that the media is largely responsible for the lack of tourist inflow to the valley. His logic is clear; it is not as if Kashmir is peace localised, there are indeed terrorist problems and other issues good enough to create apprehensions. But the point which the media does not choose to highlight is that these problems are not peculiar to tourist spots. The disturbed areas are all at least 200 kilometres away from the main tourist points near and around Srinagar. Ashraf says,``But the dateline of every report is invariably Srinagar. That naturally worries the potential tourist. But I would like to clarify that there is no trouble in the capital itself. We are safe. Period.’’

Ashraf may be exaggerating; after all, he has a job to keep. But after a visit to post-Kargil Kashmir, I can stand up and be counted. Srinagar remains as lovely as ever. If there is at all any danger, then it is in propaganda. One look at the lovely, full orchards and all apprehensions vanish. There is a saying in the houseboats of Dal Lake; apple trees do not bear fruit in troubled times.