Apoorv Sharma
apoorv2395@gmail.com.
Not long ago, I journeyed to Arunachal Pradesh, where a music festival unfolded like a dream before me-the Ziro Music Festival in the Ziro Valley. The spark lit long before the first notes of music reached my ears. As the plane descended toward Itanagar, the mountains lay like ancient scrolls brushed with the ochre of dawn and the jade of forests. It seemed the sky had stooped to kiss the mountains, composing a quiet serenade that whispered of the wonders to come.Once there, the warmth of the people, their hospitality offered with such effortless grace, and the rustic charm of a small village nestled in the lap of nature prepared me for a kind of experience I had never known before.
When the festival began, it was as though another world unfolded. At first, the names on the line-up were unfamiliar, musicians I had never heard of. Yet the moment their instruments came alive, I felt transported. The delicate strains of the santoor floated like thin mountain air; guitars struck chords that reverberated through the body; drums pounded like a thousand racing hearts especially when ChowRaasta, a vibrant band based out of Hyderabad, took the stage, their rhythms were so infectious that we found ourselves dancing immediately on the grass; and the saxophone wove through the night like a river of molten lava, curving and spiraling, shaking the firmament.Songs in English blended into Naga and Mizo rhythms, while Hindi and Punjabi voices swelled alongside Apatani folk songs, their earthy timbre carrying something of the soil itself. The music was not confined by geography or language; it flowed like a river, free and unrestrained, carrying us with it.
I sat transfixed, as each ripple of music became a glimmer of wonder. It was magic, pure and undeniable, the kind of spell that binds you without your knowing it. That night, after the music faded, we spread a bedsheet over the grass and lay back in the meadows, gazing at a sky so clear it seemed as if the heavens had fractured, making way for those fragments of light to pour through like scattered fireflies. We saw a telescope there, and through it we caught a fleeting glimpse of Saturn, its rings, and its moons hanging like delicate ornaments from an old woman’s ear, weighed down yet luminous in the night. The vastness above us was humbling, and in that silence, I turned to my friend and whispered, “What beautiful expanses, I have never seen anything like this before”. Without missing a beat, my friend quipped, “But I have-just last month, in Patnitop”.
Later that evening, as the meadows and clouds above Ziro appeared to lean into each other until they became indistinguishable, I spoke again about what we had just witnessed. And then, almost by whim, I said aloud what had been stirring silently in my heart: imagine if we had such a festival in Patnitop. The word slipped out as casually as a note from a flute, but my friend’s eyes lit up instantly. What had begun as idle fancy suddenly sounded like destiny speaking to us.For in that moment, we both realized that we had grown up amidst vales just as enchanting, skies just as embracing, hillsides just as generous. As Jammu’s children, our summer vacations were filled with visits to Patnitop, where the forests stood tall, the grass rolled endlessly, and clouds wove themselves into shifting tapestries. Yet we had never looked at our home seriously, never imagined it could hold within itself the power to invite the world. That sudden recognition, born of nostalgia and wonder, has now become a calling that compels me to write this appeal: that we come together to envision and build the Padora Music Festival in Patnitop.
Such a festival would not be a mere imitation of Ziro. It would be an offering unique to Jammu and Kashmir, carrying the fragrance of our soil, the rhythms of our traditions, and the spirit of our people. Patnitop, with its wide valleys, misty mornings, and serene accessibility, offers the perfect stage. The Padora region with its meadows opening like amphitheatres carved by nature itself, could become the setting where music speaks directly to the soul. To hear the sounds of our traditional musical instruments against the backdrop of pine-clad slopes, to witness young independent musicians playing guitars as clouds drift lazily across the horizon, to let Dogri, Kashmiri, and Gujjar-Bakarwal voices mingle with visitors from other states and nations-this is not a dream too distant. It is within our reach.
The story of the Ziro Music Festival offers us guidance. Founded in 2012 by Bobby Hano and Anup Kutty of Menwhopause, it began as a modest initiative, yet in little over a decade it has become one of India’s most beloved independent music gatherings. Today it has its own merchandise, bustling stalls of food and crafts, and draws attention from across the country and beyond. This year, it was honoured by the presence of the Chief Minister of Arunachal Pradesh and the Union Minister Jyotiraditya Scindia. What was once an experiment has grown into a legacy. If a small village in Arunachal can achieve this, why not the hills of Patnitop in Jammu?
The Padora Music Festival, if realized, would be more than entertainment. It would be a celebration of life in its most elemental form: voices rising in unison, cultures meeting, strangers becoming companions for a few days, and youth discovering new possibilities. It would also be a platform to elevate local musicians who often go unheard, to introduce Dogri ballads, Bhaderwahi songs, and Kashmiri sufiana traditions to audiences who might otherwise never encounter them. And it would do so while embracing the values of sustainability, of coexisting with the environment rather than burdening it. We could pledge ourselves to eco-friendly practices, to reducing plastic, to creating spaces where art flourishes without leaving scars upon the earth.
But such a vision needs support. This is where I wish to appeal to the authorities and stakeholders, both public and private. The Department of Tourism in Jammu and Kashmir has already been tirelessly working to promote our region. Partnering with an initiative like the Padora Music Festival would bring a fresh dimension to their efforts, attracting a demographic of travelers who seek not only landscapes but experiences, not only leisure but meaning. The Ministry of Tourism, India, too, could find in this festival an opportunity to showcase Jammu as a cultural destination. Corporate collaborators could step in to provide the scaffolding of logistics, sponsorship, and outreach, ensuring that the idea grows from aspiration into reality.
What makes music festivals powerful is not only the music itself but the community they create. At Ziro, I saw strangers dancing shoulder to shoulder, artisans sharing their crafts, youth volunteering with enthusiasm. Even the smallest details carried meaning: three bins stood at every corner marked Recycle, Compost, and Reject, and beside them stood three children, patiently guiding visitors about where each bit of waste should go. Such quiet practices, almost invisible amid music and revelry, go a long way in teaching us how festivals can be both celebrations and lessons in responsibility.In Patnitop, such a gathering could transform the lives of local communities, providing livelihoods, strengthening pride in cultural heritage, and opening channels of dialogue across regions and nations. The ripple effect of such an event, amplified by social media and carried in the stories of those who attend, could place Jammu on the global map not only as a scenic spot but as a beacon of cultural exchange.
I write this not as a cultural planner or policymaker but as a son of this soil who has rediscovered its potential. As children, we were too eager to look beyond our hometown, always searching for wonders elsewhere, never realizing that the sloping pastures and silver linings we longed for already surrounded us in Patnitop.But now, with the memory of Ziro fresh in my mind, I cannot ignore the possibilities that Patnitop holds. I cannot dismiss the thought that Jammu, too, could host an event where music becomes the common language of humanity.The Padora Music Festival could be the beginning of a new story, one where Jammu’s verdure sings, where its skies dance with sound, where its youth find new aspirations, and where its traditions are celebrated before the world. It could be the bridge that connects the past we inherited with the future we imagine.
But visions, however beautiful, demand action. Through this article, I wish to place this proposal before the relevant authorities, cultural leaders, and partners who have the power to turn it into reality. Jammu is ready, Patnitop is waiting, and the people are eager. What we need now is commitment, planning, and support. The Department of Tourism in J&K, the Ministry of Tourism, India, and private collaborators can together make this festival not just a possibility but a legacy.The Padora Music Festival is not a dream too distant; it can be realized in the near future if we take the first steps today.If this vision resonates with you-whether as an authority, an institution, or an individual passionate about culture-I welcome you to reach out to me. Let us sit across the table, share ideas, and begin work on a project that can change the cultural destiny of Jammu. Together, we can create an event that will echo far beyond Patnitop, one that will remind the world that music finds one of its truest homes among these peaks, and that the mountains of Jammu are ready to sing again.
Let the music begin-this time in Padora.
(The author is an engineer at Indian Oil )
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