Saffron agenda

A lucky drizzle made all the difference

Said my guide, 8220;Sir, you are two weeks too early.8221; It was mid-October 2002 and I was visiting Kashmir for the first time. I was at Naseem Bagh, the magnificent grove of Chinar trees in the Kashmir University campus of Srinagar. It was said to have been laid by Emperor Akbar.

Row upon row of giant Chinars stood there in majestic splendour. Autumn having set in, their leaves had turned yellow but, according to my guide, the right time to see them was during October end, when the leaves turn crimson red 8220;chi-nar8221; literally meaning 8220;what a fire!8221;. Alas I was to leave by the next afternoon.

Some other time, I thought to myself, and left for the market near Lal Chowk to buy the saffron my wife had asked for. I entered a shop and struck up a conversation with its courteous owner. He told me that kesar is actually the stigma 8212; the thread-like filament of the saffron flower. Hearing this, I marvelled how equitably the nature has distributed its gifts. Some plants are endowed with good fruit, some with seed, and others with good shoots, leaves, or roots. In the saffron, the goodness is in the stigma of its flower. Perhaps by supplying it with a rare aroma, nature has compensated the plant for its sterility, for it produces neither fruit nor seed.

Suddenly I felt how wonderful it would have been if I could see the saffron bloom. When I mentioned it to the shopkeeper, he repeated what my guide had said about Chinars 8212; it was two weeks too early for the saffron to bloom. Now, doubly disappointed, I bought a few boxes of the prized spice and left. On waking up the next morning, I found it had drizzled, not a frequent occurrence in Kashmir at this time of year. As I ordered tea, my guide came rushing in and asked excitedly if I wanted to see the saffron bloom. I nodded. He explained that because of last night8217;s showers the flowers may have opened. But he wanted me to hurry because by 10 am the flowers are normally picked, as they wilt after that. I got ready in a jiffy.

Within an hour we were at the famous saffron fields of Pampore. And, sure enough, I found hundreds of tiny flowers swaying merrily in the soft breeze. It wasn8217;t a full bloom, but bloom enough for me. I clicked dozens of photos. More so because, to add to my delight, their colour was not saffron. They were a beautiful purple.