For seven generations, through valleys deep,
Where Kashmir’s mountains watch and keep,
We’ve tended fields of golden thread,
Where saffron blooms in autumn’s bed.
With hands that know the soil by heart,
We’ve played our quiet, ancient part,
Nurturing petals with care and grace,
In this sacred, sunlit place.
Through years of toil, through joy and strife,
We’ve passed this craft from life to life,
From father’s hands to son’s embrace,
A legacy time can’t erase.
The autumn winds, the morning dew,
Whispered secrets that only we knew,
How to coax from earth’s embrace,
The finest saffron, a purest grace.
Golden strands, like rays of light,
Harvested with care, just before night,
Each bloom a promise, rich and true,
Of flavors bold and colors new.
In every thread, a story lies,
Of Kashmir’s earth and sapphire skies,
Of hands that know the dance of time,
Of fields that sing in ancient rhyme.
With every harvest, we renew,
A bond with earth, with sky, with you,
For seven generations long,
We’ve sung this saffron grower’s song.
From the heart of mountains steep,
We’ve kept this golden promise deep,
To grow the finest saffron bold,
Our heritage, our pride, our gold.
So when you hold that thread of gold,
Know it’s more than just a story told,
It’s a legacy, a family’s art,
Woven into saffron, from the start.
We are the keepers of the flame,
Of saffron’s proud and noble name,
Seven generations strong and free,
Growing Kashmir’s finest legacy.
In every dish, in every bite,
Feel the warmth of Kashmir’s light,
In every bloom, in every thread,
Taste the dreams our forebears spread.
We are the growers of saffron pure,
A timeless craft, a truth that’s sure,
For seven generations, strong and true,
We grow this gold, and share with you