Daily Times

The gems of the northwest frontier province are like jewels nestled in the heart of the mountains. The roads being treacherous and non-existent, make them inaccessible, but still people persevere. Coronavirus changed the direction of tourism from foreign frontiers, to our own picturesque north. It was a boost to the local economy, but the infrastructure, which is non-existent, buckled under the influx.

Another minus, cleanliness, which religion tells us is nifs eman somehow fails to penetrate our enlightened brains. Result, the most beautiful picturesque locales of our country, are littered with plastic; bottles, wrappers, bags, to the grotesquely nauseating; chicken skins, carcasses, remains of slaughtered animals. Maybe, they think, they are creating some form of a natural compost and giving back to environment. Not to mention the stench, which robs you of any joy of being outdoors. And alongside this, are gushing streams, dense forests, mountain peaks hidden amongst the clouds, nature providing just the perfect backdrop, for a most revitalising break. But sadly we cannot keep our side of the bargain, which is so simple, not to litter, heart-breaking how unthinking and ungrateful we are!

Had to mention, because keeping quiet mean’s, being ok with it, and that prevents the much needed change, that can only come through awareness. Last year visiting Skardu was an out of the world experience, as though, you had walked into some part of heaven long lost on earth. Reason being, they had maintained cleanliness, and nature was alive and breathing. Likewise, Chitral also, was a unique experience, i say unique, because Chitralis are progressive and working with nature they have maintained the balance. Being part of the northern area Chitral shares all the landmarks, in beauty, nature’s imposing grandeur and like the people of Gilgit, they are enlightened to the benefits of education, with a determination to change their lot.

Kumrat, on the other hand, has yet to pick this approach in progress, education or cleanliness. A God given gift of nature, the beauty that surrounds them, acres and acres of fertile cultivating land, but they feel no reason to improve it. Women can’t be seen for miles, education is low, from Thal to Kumrat can be a 45-minute drive, instead it’s an agonising mess, of ditches, craters and boulders. When i asked the driver was the government responsible for this, he shrugged and said, people of Kumrat don’t want change. They say it will shorten the ride to a day trip, and that isn’t conducive to their economy. We take credit for anything worth mentioning, that takes place there, political parties during campaigning, come, making tall claims, but don’t do a stitch, to uplift the conditions. And as soon as election is over, the dust settles, and the northern areas are long forgotten; the lost jewels, in the crown of Khyber Pukhtunkhuwa.

Going to Chitral via Dir is a most scenic drive, pleasing to the eyes, but rattling to the bones, with long stretches of unmetaled roads. Which means it’s not smooth sailing all the way, you do land up on rough gravelly bits, bumpy as hell and after the Lowari Tunnel, you encounter more. As you near Chitral the terrain changes, the mountains are rugged, dry, but in the valley below, you see neat lush green fields, with little hamlets, vibrant with riotous colours of Labistonia, colloquially, called gul ay aloocha, nestled neatly into the heart of the mountains. As you pass by nagar, on your way to Ayun village, you see a suspension bridge that connects you across the river, to the beautiful fort converted into a hotel with breath-taking views. Each Fort which is converted into a hotel, is a sight to behold. The owners making most of the natural beauty, have brought out its best features, to attract visitors. Who after the rugged terrain and bumpy ride, feel they have landed into a heavenly oasis. When you reach the top, and step into the premises, the beauty is surreal; and the peace and tranquillity, just takes your breath away. Stretches of undulating green grass, the wind lashing the trees, creating that marvellous gushing sound, which mingles with the sound of the river flowing below, all rising to a marvellous crescendo, is reminiscent of the book Wuthering Heights. The apple orchards, with wild lavender, long grass, wild flowers, the swollen Chitral river at its confluence with bumburet river, and the forgotten wooden benches, at the most vantage points, secluded and private, all add up to the picture. They lull you from everything, but that moment, and all you want do, is to stay there forever. Even now it’s so vibrantly alive in front of my eyes, the tall aged trees, branches spreading overhead, the air redolent with the heavenly scent of a variety of flowers, the crisp grass under my feet, day and night, both spectacular in rendition, that my mind is just overwhelmed, which vein to pick.

From Ayun to Bumburet, the largest Kalasha settlement, is a journey you will never forget, because somewhere along the line you give up on the idea, that you will find a smooth stretch of road. Basically, it’s the base of a river bed, boulders, rocks, ditches, craters and a four wheeler just grinding its way through. Stayed the night in Kalash valley, in the scouts mess, which is very strategically constructed, atop an elevation from the rest of the settlement. I think, they learnt their lesson, because earlier they had built the scouts mess in route of the rivers coming down the mountain, and the floods in 2015 raised it to the ground. The story goes, when the scouts mess was being built, an old shepherd, living in the mountain above, came to them and asked, if they had taken permission of the two brothers who lived in the mountains. They sent him away, thinking he was just some crazed old man. But when the floods came, they hit the scout’s mess and wiped it clear off of the face of earth, because what they hadn’t understood, was the folklore. The two rivers coming from the mountains above, were the two brothers, and the scouts mess was directly in their path.

Kalasha, a civilisation about 11,800 years old, still adheres to their religion and culture, with their colourful embroidered dresses, beaded headgear and unique customs, attracting tourists for a must visit world over. They look like the black swallowtail butterflies, due to the characteristic black dress, and colourful motifs, inhabiting the scenic Bumburet valley, in lower Chitral district, minding their business, going about their work. But being the main focus of tourism, are in a catch 22 situation. For they are viewed like an organism under a microscope; people just randomly enter their houses to see how they live, take pictures, taking it for granted, that it’s a part of their life. That they don’t have power to think, or object to this intrusion, because they are part of the tourism package. Not realising they have mainstreamed into society, maintaining their distinctive culture, getting educated, and thus, do not welcome this intrusive inspection. I truly felt an underlying current of resentment, as they cannot refuse, but they know that they are being used, as their expenses are met by the revenue tourism generates, so there is nothing they can do about it. As far as building the infrastructure by any government, is obsolete. The road from Bumburet to Chitral, to any hospital nearby, is as i mentioned a dirt track, if a patient has any chance to live, it is lost along the way. If any uplift is happening, it is due to the Agha Khan foundation, and the private NGO’s, no thanks to any of the governmental authorities. Their women are enlisted in police force, and their upcoming generations are moving further a field, to seek education and better jobs. A visit to their Kalasha Dur Museum in the valley is a must see, but with a guide who’s well versed in the history of the Kalasha. The Kalasha Dur Museum is constructed in both modern and their indigenous traditional design, and houses a collection of their cultural and historical artefacts. It was built by Greek volunteers and a Greek NGO, who over looked its construction from 2001 to 2005. Their graved yard is part of the visit, and highly sacred to them, because the remains of their dead with their belongings are left on top of the ground, but our people respect no one, medical students have been known to go off with the bones, and others making TikTok in the graveyard. So finally they have taken to burying their dead. There are some of the most beautiful trees in the grave yard, hundreds of years old, which leave you in awe, with their silent majestic grace. And also somehow I have always found the idea of being left on top of the ground in a wooden box, far more comforting, than being buried under it.

All in all, Chitral has many wonders, which even though discovered, have not been honed to their full potential, such as the garam chashma, also known as sulphur springs, is believed to have therapeutic qualities, but the chemistry of the water hasn’t been studied, and all that is known is, that it gushes over rich sulphur deposits, which causes the temperature to rise above boiling point. The government has made public baths for bathing in the cooled sulphur water, for those looking for medicinal benefits, but that facility is only available from March continuing for two months of spring. The road leading up to Garam chashma, as most of the roads you encounter, is metalled in patches, mostly unmetalled and very rough. But does provide you with spectacular views, and variations of colour in the changing topography, which is captivating. We were promised we would catch sight of Markhors across the river around 4 to 5 pm, on the way back from Garam chashma, killing two birds in one stone, as the saying goes, saving us the drive to Gol National park, but we only saw two or three markhors with binoculars, and caught a bit of them on camera. They say Chitral Gol National Park has better views and you get to see quite a number of markhors come down to drink water around 5pm, if lucky you might even capture them on camera. But the drive to Garam chashma is real long and at the end of it you get to see little trickles of water working their way down the mountainside. So I think, if you have lots of time to kill and nothing else to do, then go that way, otherwise reading about it is enough. And for the markhors, you can visit the Chitral Gol National Park.

It was interesting, they say it’s a small world and it sure is, staying in the scouts mess in Bumburet, I saw a book captioned Da Ghrono Azmari, only to open it and find my great, great, great grandfather’s pictures, as he was the first Muslim Commandant of Khyber Riffles. Went to the Chitral Fort, which the Maithar of Chitral is even now occupying, and found my great grandfather’s picture on the mantelpiece and the guide explained they were good friends and showed me another picture, when he was much younger. The fort overlooks the Chitral river and has one of the oldest maple trees in courtyard, where the maithar would hold court in days gone by, its branches spread overhead, in a wide arch, providing cover and a home for many birds, whose birdsong along with the gushing river below, with unfettered view of the mountains and Chitral city, was pure serenity. The nearly hundred years old Shahi mosque built in 1924, is a stately mosque, with pure white marble and sculptural art and is on the bank of Chitral river, next to the fort. The Chitral Museum is also informative and with a good guide and if interested in history, it is interesting.

We do crazy things, so this must never be tried, we headed out from Chitral, not only for Kumrat, but for its famous aabshaar. Reached it at evening fall, the route is through densely populated forests, the temperature drops and suddenly the silence, is audible. Loved the trees, they were just spectacular, the mountains and the perfection of nature, was breathtaking. But the road to it is, to put it politely, a deterrent/ horrendous. We made our way back in the dark, the headlights only lighting the path right ahead and nothing beyond… We went through streams, rocks, boulders and ditches, but thank God, got back in one piece, to Kumrat city. Though to be completely honest, can’t say it was comforting, for the natural backdrop of perfection, needed so much more.

If asked, which places stood out for me, for peace, tranquillity, capturing nature at its best, and presenting it to perfection, would be Ayun Villa, Ayun Fort Inn and Hindukush heights, they tugged at my heart when leaving, with echoes of, no time spent here is enough! Like an oasis in the desert, they provide you with a luxurious respite after the arduous journey. Serving you fresh home produce, from their fields, and fresh butter and dairy products from their livestock. Their staff is naturally all Chitrali, extremely polite and cordial, the owner of Hindukush Heights, Shahzada Sirajul Mulk told us they support their staff, by giving their children the best education, so that they can make their niche in the world and also support the community. One of their head waiters daughter just got accepted in LUMS. So what we may see as luxury, is the fruit of their hard work, which in return paves the road to success. I loved Shazada Siraj ul Mulks explanation, when asked why the winding, rough, gravelly, treacherous path up to the hotel wasn’t fixed. He said, had I fixed it, how would the visitors appreciate what we have worked with, and what we have created. And truly, the hotel is a testament, to the haven they have carved, midst the rugged mountains. Here I am going to quote an Urdu verse, from the beautiful poem of Mustapha Ziadi, favourite of my mothers, that comes to mind, as the jeep climbs up the dry, winding, gravelly road, to the fort…

“Inhi pattharoñ pe chal kar agar aa sako to aao, mire ghar ke r?ste meñ ko? kahkash?ñ nah?ñ hai”