by Dr Nisar Farhad
A winter motorcycle journey from Pulwama to Mansar–Surinsar uncovers how mythology, ecology and belief quietly shape sacred landscapes in Jammu beyond tourism and crowds
For me, motorcycling has never been merely about movement from one place to another. Over time, these journeys have evolved into written travelogues—ways of observing landscapes closely, engaging with local cultures and recording histories that are both lived and remembered. Travel, in this sense, becomes a form of listening. Continuing this dialogue between road and reflection, a recent winter motorcycle journey from Pulwama to the twin sacred lakes of Mansar and Surinsar proved quietly enriching, revealing how geography, mythology and community belief intersect across the Jammu region.
Winter journeys carry a character of their own. Roads grow quieter, destinations lose their crowds, and nature reveals itself without embellishment. On January 11, I began my ride from Pulwama around 10 am. As I travelled south, Kashmir’s biting cold slowly softened into Jammu’s comparatively milder winter. The shift was not only climatic but cultural. Mountain roads eased into rolling hills, roadside shrines appeared more frequently, markets became busier, and sunlight felt warmer on the skin. After covering nearly 263 kilometres, I reached Mansar by evening and halted for the night at the Mansar Resort.
The following morning, January 12, Mansar Lake greeted the day in near-meditative stillness. Situated on the Samba–Udhampur Road, about 22 kilometres from Samba, Mansar is among the region’s most prominent religious and recreational sites. Encircled by forested hills, the lake is lined with temples dedicated to various Hindu deities. A prominent Nag (serpent) temple on its banks reflects the area’s long association with serpent worship, a tradition deeply rooted in local belief systems.
Mansar’s spiritual importance is closely tied to the Mahabharata mythology and is often linked symbolically to Lake Manasarovar. Legend recounts that after the Kurukshetra war, the Pandavas performed the Ashwamedh Yagna to establish their supremacy. The sacrificial horse was captured by Babruvahan, son of Arjuna and ruler of this region. In the ensuing battle, Babruvahan unknowingly killed his own father. On learning the truth, he sought redemption and was told that Arjuna could be revived only with the Mani, a sacred gem possessed by Sheshnag, the divine serpent.
According to legend, Babruvahan pierced the earth with an arrow, creating an underground passage known as Surangsar, now Surinsar. After defeating Sheshnag and retrieving the Mani, he emerged at Manisar—present-day Mansar. Springs later appeared at both ends of this subterranean passage, giving rise to the twin lakes of Mansar and Surinsar, bound together through myth and memory.
This mythology continues to shape everyday life around Mansar. The lake supports several freshwater fish species—rohu, catla, mrigal and common carp—yet fishing and consumption are traditionally prohibited. For local communities, these fish are sacred, associated with the Nag deity, and feeding them is considered an act of devotion. Over generations, belief has quietly functioned as conservation, protecting the lake without formal enforcement.
After spending nearly two hours walking along the lake, observing rituals and absorbing its calm, I rode onward to Surinsar Lake. Located about 24 kilometres from Jammu city and roughly nine kilometres from Mansar, Surinsar is the quieter, lesser-visited twin. Smaller in size but rich in atmosphere, it is surrounded by wooded slopes and open skies, offering solitude away from crowded tourist circuits.
Surinsar mirrors Mansar in both ecology and cultural restraint. The lake lies within the Surinsar–Mansar Wildlife Sanctuary, home to spotted deer, nilgai, sambhar and diverse birdlife. It also holds religious significance, with devotees visiting for Mundan ceremonies and post-marriage pheras. In recent years, aarti has been performed every Sunday evening, reinforcing its spiritual presence in local life.
Owing to its proximity to Jammu, Surinsar attracts significant weekend visitors, particularly when destinations like Patnitop feel distant. However, limited infrastructure and basic amenities often shorten stays, underscoring the need for thoughtful development. A balanced approach—improving toilets, regulated parking, waste management, signage and non-motorised recreation—could enhance tourism while preserving the lakes’ ecological and religious character. Involving local communities and using native design and solar lighting would further strengthen sustainable stewardship.
Because it was winter, visitor presence remained minimal during my journey. The lakes lay largely undisturbed, marked by silence rather than crowds. Locals noted that peak tourist months extend from March to October. Winter, though less commercially appealing, offers a clearer view of the lakes’ natural and cultural essence, free from seasonal pressure.
From Surinsar, I continued to Jammu city, where sacred landscapes gradually merged into urban rhythms. The Raghunath Temple complex anchors the city’s spiritual identity, while Ranbir Market and Link Road reflect its commercial pulse. Bahu Fort offered sweeping views of the Tawi River below, and the adjoining Bagh-e-Bahu gardens provided a quiet pause above the city. The Amar Mahal Palace, overlooking the river, stood gracefully against the winter sky, echoing Jammu’s Dogra heritage.
I stayed overnight near Jewel Chowk and began my return journey on January 13, departing at 9:30 am and reaching home safely by evening.
This winter ride reaffirmed a simple truth: some landscapes endure not merely because they are protected, but because they are believed in. At Mansar and Surinsar, mythology safeguards ecology; in Jammu, history continues to coexist with daily life. On two wheels, across winter roads, the journey offered not just travel, but perspective.
(The author is a lecturer in Chemistry with the School Education Department, Jammu and Kashmir. He writes on education and finds stories in every journey. Ideas are personal.)
