Jamia Masjid, Srinagar

Slip off your shoes and feel the floor change under your feet. It feels cool and smooth, and slightly worn. Above you, the light comes in soft and indirect. It falls between rows of tall wooden columns that run on and on, like trees in a quiet forest. The noise of the old city fades behind the walls. In its place you hear pigeons, low voices, and perhaps the murmur of someone reading under their breath.

This is the Jamia Masjid, the great congregational mosque of Srinagar. Jamia means the gathering place, the mosque where a whole city comes together for Friday prayers. It stands in Nowhatta, in the heart of the old town that locals call Downtown. The lanes outside are narrow and crowded with shops and old brick houses. Behind these walls, though, the space opens up completely.

The mosque dates back to the late fourteenth century. Sultan Sikandar, a ruler of the Shah Mir dynasty, ordered its construction. The work was finished in the first years of the fifteenth century. His son, Zain-ul-Abidin, is remembered as one of the most loved rulers in Kashmir's history. He later extended the building. So the plan you walk through today goes back more than six hundred years, even though much of the fabric is younger.

That difference matters, because this mosque has burned more than once. A building made largely of timber in a dense wooden city was always at risk. Fire destroyed it several times over the centuries. Each time, the people of Srinagar rebuilt it. One major rebuilding took place in the seventeenth century, during the reign of the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb. Further repairs and restoration followed in the twentieth century. What you see is a structure renewed many times, on the same ground.

Now look closely at the columns. This is the detail that stays with most visitors. The mosque holds well over three hundred wooden pillars. Each one is cut from a single trunk of deodar, the Himalayan cedar that grows on the mountain slopes around Kashmir. Deodar is prized for its strength and its resistance to rot. Imagine the work of felling these trees, hauling them down from the forests, and raising each one upright by hand.

The pillars are not all the same. Those in the main prayer halls rise especially tall, and they give the interior its feeling of height and calm. Their bases often rest on stone. Their surfaces carry the marks of age and of countless hands. In the dim light, the wood takes on a warm brown colour. A quiet surprise for many visitors is how plain the interior is. There is very little ornament, and the rows of timber do most of the work.

The layout itself tells a story about Kashmir's place in the wider world. The mosque is built around a large open courtyard. On each side, a grand entrance hall faces inward. This four-sided plan comes from the Persian tradition, which reached Kashmir along trade and scholarly routes from Central Asia and Iran. Kashmiri builders took that plan and built it in their own way — with brick walls, local timber, and their own roof forms.

Step back into the courtyard and look up at those roofs. Above the main entrances, the roofs rise in stepped, pyramid-like tiers. They end in slender spires that point at the sky. To many first-time visitors they look closer to a temple in the Himalayas than to the domed mosques of the Middle East. Here is the second surprise. In Kashmir, the classic mosque does not use a dome or tall minarets. It uses this layered wooden roof, built to shed heavy winter snow.

The courtyard is the calmest part of the complex. It holds a garden with trees and paths. At its centre is a pool of water used for ablutions, the ritual washing before prayer. On a sunny day, the brick walls glow a soft red-brown, and the trees throw patterns of shade across the paving. You will often see older men resting here, children running along the edges, and people sitting quietly before the next call to prayer.

On Fridays, this place changes character entirely. The halls and courtyard fill with worshippers. On important religious occasions, crowds can spill out into the surrounding streets. For centuries the mosque has been a centre of community life in Kashmir, not only of worship. Sermons delivered here carry weight across the valley. Because of that public role, the mosque has at times been closed during periods of tension in the region. Many Srinagar families feel a deep personal attachment to it.

If you visit, a few courtesies go a long way. Dress modestly, with arms and legs covered. Women are usually expected to cover their hair. You remove your shoes before entering the prayer areas. It is best to avoid the main prayer times, especially the Friday midday prayer. You will not be in the way, and you will see the building at its quietest. Ask before you photograph people. A simple greeting or a nod of thanks is always welcomed.

The neighbourhood around the mosque deserves your time as well. The streets of Downtown hold old wooden and brick houses with carved windows and balconies. You will find small shops selling dried fruit, spices, bread from neighbourhood bakeries, and household goods. The river Jhelum runs not far away, lined with other historic shrines. On a clear day, the hill of Hari Parbat and its fort rise over the rooftops. They give you a landmark to find your way.

Before you leave, stand for a moment between the columns once more. Notice how the light moves across the wood. Notice how sounds soften here, and how the floor stays cool even on a warm day. Every pillar around you was once a living tree on a mountainside. As you step back out into the lanes and put your shoes back on, listen for the moment the city's noise returns — and remember how quiet it was inside.