High above the bustling heart of Srinagar, perched like a secret on the Zabarwan hills, sits Pari Mahal—the Palace of Fairies. The name alone feels like an invitation to something magical. And when you finally get there, standing among its ancient arches, you understand: this place was made for dreams.

Pari Mahal isn’t flashy. It doesn’t overwhelm you with gold or grandeur. Instead, it greets you with open terraces, stone corridors, and the kind of view that makes you go completely still. From up here, Dal Lake glistens below, the city hums quietly in the distance, and the mountains stand tall behind you like timeless guardians.

What I loved most wasn’t just the history (though it’s rich—once a Sufi school, later a Mughal garden). It was the feeling. The kind of peace that wraps around your shoulders and whispers, “Take your time.”

I wandered the garden paths slowly, brushing my fingers along cool stone walls. The scent of flowers, the sound of wind slipping through arches—it all felt like a gentle echo of lives once lived here. It made me wonder: how many poets stood where I stood, watching the same sky turn soft at sunset?

Pari Mahal isn’t just a monument. It’s a moment. One where you realize how small, how lucky, and how deeply human you really are.