Tucked between Baramulla and the Uri border town in Kashmir, just 14 km from Boniyar tehsil, lies Dudran—a village where the scent of fresh milk winds through narrow paths and where life hums around dairy as naturally as the streams that run beside it. With only 90 households, Dudran feels like a place shaped by the land itself, a community held together by cows, craft, and an old, unbroken way of doing things. Dudran has long been called the “Milk Village,” a title it earned not just for its rich dairy products but for the uncommon way it preserves milk. Instead of humming refrigerators, the villagers rely on the cool breath of nature: cave-like spaces and doud khots—wooden structures that work like refrigerators without a trace of electricity.
Standing beside one such structure village Sarpanch Abdul Razzaq Sheikh explains, “People construct small home-like structures near natural springs to maintain the temperature and moisture.” Around each sits a careful fence—not for decoration, but to keep livestock and wild animals from helping themselves. “The word dudran means milk. Every household here trades with milk, yogurt, butter, cheese, and other dairy items. And it's all natural.” he adds with pride.
Walk through the village on a summer day, and you’ll see milk being set in these wooden fridges, slowly transforming into curd and butter.
“Every household here sells dairy,” adds Sheikh. Much of this becomes butter, curd, and cheese, stored safely in the doud khots until traders from nearby towns arrive.
The Kashmir village alone produces 1,800 litres of milk every day while the Uri division’s monthly output touches 19,000 tonnes. Imran Nabi from the Animal Husbandry Department believes doud khots are not just a traditional practice, but a climate–resilient model. “These simple structures serve as the foundation of a long-lasting dairy industry that supports people’s livelihoods and preserves their traditional way of life.”
The old tradition in Dudran isn’t just rural, it’s also resourceful. Ghulam Mohd, 45, spoke of one such practice: “After making butter, the villagers use it to cure diarrhoea.”
Women carry much of this tradition on their shoulders. Every morning, 43-year-old Kaddeja Akhter fills three to four pots with milk and slides them into her wooden fridge. “I store the milk here. It stays fresh for at least four to five days,” says the dairy trader, who sells milk and its by-products for a living. Her clean, pure dairy products earn her up to `16,000 a month. Watching her work reveals how the women of the village balance change with continuity, tending their homes and their traditions with the same steady hands.
As the evening light fades across the hills, the stories of Dudran take on a nostalgic warmth. Haji Noor Mohammed, 68, pauses beside a doud khots with a smile. “I remember my childhood, when every house had its own natural fridge,” he says. “My mother used it to keep milk and other foods cool through the hottest summer days.” In a world wired with gadgets, the village's calm defiance is unmistakable—its people still trust the techniques their forefathers taught.
In Dudran, milk is more than food; it is livelihood, craft, heritage, and the thread that ties generations together. The village may be small, but its way of life feels expansive, shaped by earth, effort, and a remarkable kind of ingenuity.