Srinagar: Dar-Es-Salam, a personal home-turned-boutique hotel celebrates the best of Kashmiri craftsmanship

A cobblestone path lined with spring flowers leads one into to the front lawn of Dar-Es-Salam, with a majestic chinar tree in the middle. It’s instinctive to walk towards the far side, where the lawn ends and the lake begins. If you turn around at that moment, the art deco building rewards you.
Dar-Es-Salam was built in the early 1940s by Maqsud Ali, a resident of Srinagar, as a home for his family. His grandson, Khurram Hussain, runs it as a hotel, today, with a discernment that only someone with a personal, emotional stake can.
“The story is that, as a young man, my grandfather went fishing to Nigeen Lake, and is said to have remarked that this plot of land is where he wanted to build a home. It was so far out from residential Srinagar at the time that it was quite an outlandish idea,” says Khurram, as he sits in a living room of the home-hotel, with an intricately carved teak-wood bar and a plate of fried local cheese served to us. “My grandfather belonged to a family of erstwhile landlords; I believe he sold some land that he owned elsewhere for this plot.”
Historically, Kashmir has had Persian, Mughal and British influences in architecture. Classic mountain chalets are common across the valley, but art deco was unusual. “There wasn’t an architect on the project that we know of. It was my grandfather’s vision. He was well-travelled; he worked for the government, and I’m sure he had friends who came on board for the design and construction,”—which is technically solid. The entire grand structure sits on a foundation of wooden beams bored into the soil—a technique called piling, which is common to homes built close to water bodies. The interiors are an exquisite theatre of Kashmiri workmanship. Khatamband ceilings were carved in deodar—a technique of geometric wood blocks, fitted together like a jigsaw puzzle. Persian rugs, ornate walnut-wood bars and consoles, carved detailing on furniture, brass, copper and silverware, and papier mâché objets—Dar-Es-Salam is heaven for anyone with a weakness for Kashmiri craftsmanship. So who were these masters who created these glorious interiors? “I asked my father about that. And he reminded me how much of a taskmaster my grandfather was. Not the most patient man. So I believe there were a string of artisans who came and went!” laughs Khurram, whose father, Musadiq Hussain, must be credited for the eye he lent to creating the interiors. “He handpicked all the furniture, chose all the upholstery, and placed the artwork—even the garden is all his attentive care,” adds Khurram.
The family lived there from 1947 up until 1989, when political conflict shut the valley down. Khurram returned in 2007. “You know, when you return to your childhood home after a long gap, you’re always bewildered by the size of it. The same thing happened to me. In my memory, it was much bigger than what it seemed on my return,” he says. But beautiful and full of memories nevertheless. “As children, I remember we used to have a little dinghy. My sister and I would row to the centre of the lake and dive into the water. We were good swimmers—our father had taught us—and we’d have a blast. I have very good memories of growing up in this house.”
By the early 2000s, the family had begun contemplating a renovation and setting it up as a boutique hotel. It certainly had the location, interiors, charm and lots more going for it. “It was never a massive overhaul. Even the restoration happened over time—like a family project. It was a slow process because we weren’t sure how Kashmir would pan out. You know what they say: once bitten, twice shy.” The home was turned into a hotel of 14 rooms, large living rooms on each of the two floors, a dining room, and a lake-and garden-facing sunroom, which is easily the sweetest spot. The first guests arrived in 2008. “During the Covid-19 lockdowns, I’ve spent a lot of time living here. Sitting for hours in the sunroom, reading, enjoying the space, looking out at the lake view. Since there were no guests, I lived here like it was my home, again, with my wife and children,” says Khurram with a hint of melancholy. Kashmir, to anyone with a personal history, is tinted with a suggestion of sadness—owing to the history of political violence that it has inherited. And dar-es-salam in Arabic means abode of peace. How appropriate. A moment of peace is all this land really needs.