Safar, a journey. Posh, a covering carried across distance.

Safarposh started with a jar of saffron bought in a market in London that turned the water red in four seconds. It was dyed. It cost as much as the real thing, and it went in the bin.

That is the ordinary experience of the diaspora buying food from home: paying a premium for a story nobody can verify. Meanwhile the growers in Pampore who do the actual work sell into an aggregator chain that strips their name off the product within a day of the harvest.

We built the shortest line we could between the two. We buy at the field, pay before the flowers open, keep the grower’s name on the box, and put the lab report in your inbox. It makes our margins thinner and our catalogue smaller — five products, not fifty — and that is the trade we wanted.

We are a small team between Srinagar and Delhi. If something we sent you is not what we described, write to us directly and we will fix it.