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Last of the Tongas': Srinagar man’s journey to keep a vanishing heritage alive

  • Arif Khan By Arif Khan
  • Comments 0
  • 08 Apr 2026

At 70, Ghulam Rasool Kumar rides through Srinagar, carrying echoes of bygone Kashmir

Srinagar, Apr 07: In a city where engines roar and time races forward, a slower rhythm still survives, measured not in speed but in memory. The soft, rhythmic clip-clop of hooves occasionally breaks through Srinagar’s traffic, turning heads and stirring nostalgia. At its heart is 70-year-old Ghulam Rasool Kumar, perhaps the last torchbearer of a tradition that once defined the Valley’s everyday life.

Seated atop his modest tonga, reins gently in hand, Kumar does not merely navigate roads, he travels through time. His journey began in 1965 when he first received his licence, in an era when tongas were the lifeline of mobility in Kashmir. Introduced during the British period, these horse-drawn carriages were once indispensable, ferrying people across towns long before the dominance of motor vehicles.

For Kumar, the tonga is not a relic, it is a relationship.

“I learned this art from my master,” he says, his voice carrying quiet pride. “It’s not just about driving. You must understand the horse, train it, and build trust. Only then can you guide it safely.”

His words evoke a past rooted in discipline and dignity. He still preserves a licence issued during the tenure of Ghulam Mohammad Sadiq, a time when regulations were strict and the craft was respected. Riders adhered to dress codes, horses were kept in prime condition, and even minor lapses invited penalties.

“There were no brakes in a tonga,” he recalls with a gentle smile. “Only skill and trust kept people safe.”

Today, Kumar’s presence on Srinagar’s streets feels almost poetic, a moving reminder of a fading world. He no longer rides for livelihood alone, but for passion. With no fixed fare, he lets passengers pay what they wish, turning each ride into a shared experience rather than a transaction.

“People come, they sit, they smile. For them, it’s not just a ride, it’s an experience,” he says.

He remembers when a journey cost as little as 30 paisa, later rising to eight annas, when four passengers together paid just two rupees. Those numbers now belong to another age, but for Kumar, they remain vivid markers of a life deeply lived.

Yet, beneath the nostalgia lies an unspoken concern. As Srinagar moves forward, traditions like the tonga risk fading into silence. Kumar’s solitary effort to keep it alive is both inspiring and fragile.

With folded hands and quiet dignity, he appeals to the authorities for support, not merely for himself, but for the preservation of a cultural legacy that once shaped Kashmir’s identity.

As his tonga rolls gently through the city’s crowded lanes, it carries more than passengers. It carries stories of resilience, fragments of history, and the enduring spirit of a Kashmir that refuses to be forgotten.

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