When men and mountain meet
By Ameer Hamza
They don’t even sound like they belong in Pakistan, these strange and exotic place names that are popping up in my inbox. Immit, Mithramdan, Wargoth glacier, Sokhtarabad, Chitti Boi. With some trepidation, I sign up for this latest travel expedition and agree to pay Rs10,000 in advance to the travel guide who e-mailed this odd-sounding itinerary to me. Feeling the need for a travel partner as I depart to these uncharted territories, I call my just-returned-from-the US friend, Adeel. He gamely agrees to tag along, though he does wonder out loud if good food will be available in these places.
A few days later, we find ourselves munching breakfast in Gilgit, having got here from Rawalpindi via the breathtaking Babussar pass. We’re waiting for the wagon that will take us on to Immit and, while we wait, I keep asking our tour guide, Tanweer babu, if it’s really such a good idea to travel to the Northern tip of Pakistan in the rainy month of September.
Scoffing at my fears, he paints a picture of chirping birds and multi-coloured flowers waving in the breeze … all under a cloudless sky. This is the North, I am reminded, and in any case, September is not the rainy season. Of course, at this time half of lower Sindh is submerged under floodwaters and Karachi is experiencing its heaviest rains in a decade.
I’m reassured, and we proceed on the rather bumpy road to Immit. On the way, we cross a flooded nullah, and a little voice in my head whispers, ‘Turn back…it’s not too late!’ But I pay no heed and then we’re there. Immit is the last outpost of civilisation on this side of the border, the last major town before you enter Afghanistan. This is where the road ends, literally. For us, this means that this is the last chance to buy whatever we may need before entering the wild.
Of course, our tour operator ‘forgets’ to purchase extra oil, wheat and rice and all we have is his vague assurance that we’re well-stocked for the 12-day trek that awaits us.
It’s dusk when we reach our Mithramdan, our first campsite, and there’s just enough sun for us to glimpse the jagged peaks of the mountains against the dying light. It’s freezing cold, and we sleep in a government-run school rather than camp out. Even Tanweer babu looks a little worried as he zips himself into his sleeping bag.
The next day is just as advertised: crystal clear air, beautiful mountains and a veritable aura of happiness. Awaiting us at the school gate is an army of locals, all vigorously bargaining with Tanweer babu. They know the next lot of visitors will only come in June and this is their last chance to make some tourist cash. Eventually one lucky local wins our custom and we head out at 9 am.
As we move on, the stark beauty becomes starker, the water becomes colder the gloves start to come out, and the grumblers (a necessary part of every trek) start grumbling a little louder. At 2 pm, after crossing many beautiful but potentially deadly paths, we reach Chota Yasin. This is the place I really wanted to visit and finally being here is like a dream come true. Ancient Sanober trees dot the landscape,and a single herdsman remains here with his family. the rest having left for warmer climes.
To me, it’s heaven on earth. Imagine a place surrounded by mountains, heavily forested with magnificent Sanober trees and dotted with streams of pure, clean water. Here, the formidable-looking Yak roams free along with the herdsman’s other animals and the conversation revolves around fodder, kids and more fodder. Life is good and all blood pressure patients should come here and stay for a while to sort things out.
The next day we reluctantly pack up and move towards the promised Wargoth glacier. Despite its dangerous sounding name, it is not as formidable a glacier as Baltoro or Hispar but is nevertheless treacherous enough. This is not a place to lose your footing, because falling into one of its numerous crevices won’t just be potentially fatal, but also deeply insulting to someone who considers himself a bonafide trekker. Luckily, no one falls. We soon reach the Wargoth campsite, light a bonfire, and celebrate our first glacier crossing with some warm, salty tea. But it seems the rain gods frown upon our victory as this is when the first (and very heavy) rains begin to fall. All eyes turn towards our sheepish tour operator, who had been insisting ever since we left that rains would not be a problem. We drag ourselves along on slick and slippery paths, cursing him under our breath but still in awe of the landscape.
Twelve soggy hours later, we finally reach Sokhtarabad. It is eerily dark and the rains have resumed after a short break. The sound is so thunderous that it is just impossible to think about anything except how to keep yourself warm and dry. Soon our tents start to leak and we are all wading in cold water, fending for ourselves as our tour operator inexplicably remains fast asleep in his tent, his snores somehow still audible through the sound of the rain.
The next morning, the rain is gone but the clouds remain, hovering around the jagged mountain peaks towards the northwest. I get my first glimpse of the Pakistan-Afghanistan border. As a traveler, I am constantly in awe of border regions. I don’t know why, but there’s something about political borders which compels me to visit them. However, I really don’t like visiting Mummy-Daddy-Burger-Baby borders like Wagah, which everyone can get to. I like these tough borders. Rugged places like the one I can see from the Sokhtarabad campsite. Places with names that give you an adrenaline rush.
The next day our tour operator gets sick (or is he fooling?) and we cancel our trek. I give a last, longing look to that now snow-capped peak from where you can hop across into Afghanistan, and return after photographing local yak walking across the landscape. Although we ultimately failed to reach Karomber lake we did manage to see what few Pakistanis ever will in their lifetimes. Leaving the border areas I recalled that remarkable verse by
William Blake,
‘Great things are done when men and mountain meet
This is not done by jostling in the street’
A few days later, Adeel and I are back jostling away in Karachi’s streets, wondering when we will meet the mountains again.
Published in The Express Tribune, Sunday Magazine, December 11th, 2011.
Showing posts with label 2011. Show all posts
Showing posts with label 2011. Show all posts
Monday, December 12, 2011
Monday, November 21, 2011
Portrait: Shoemaker, Old city of Sharkapur Sharif
Date: 8th June, 2011.
Another trip, another sweltering heat, another place, another interesting person. This time it is Central Punjab (or is it just Punjab?) and we are here - me, Haroon's father and Adeel - at an old town of Sharakpur Sharif (also pronounced and written as, 'Sharaqpur'). And the first interesting person we see is this cobbler / shoemaker sitting on a pavement just outside the old city gate (there are three or four of these left now), polishing the Peshawari sandal. I say my salam and take his photograph but his response, unlike many there, is lukewarm. He isn't smiling at all. But he allows me the frame. I use 50mm for this frame and I think it just came out nicely.
Another trip, another sweltering heat, another place, another interesting person. This time it is Central Punjab (or is it just Punjab?) and we are here - me, Haroon's father and Adeel - at an old town of Sharakpur Sharif (also pronounced and written as, 'Sharaqpur'). And the first interesting person we see is this cobbler / shoemaker sitting on a pavement just outside the old city gate (there are three or four of these left now), polishing the Peshawari sandal. I say my salam and take his photograph but his response, unlike many there, is lukewarm. He isn't smiling at all. But he allows me the frame. I use 50mm for this frame and I think it just came out nicely.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Chestnut tree leaves, Chitral
In my diary style reporting on the latest trip (9th September, 2011 - 25th September, 2011) I did not mention this photograph of chestnut tree leaves lying on the garden just outside the Chitral Fort.
I like this photograph very much. Firstly, because a traveller to Chitral MUST never miss them. This tree epitomizes the stature of the man in Chitrali society. I was informed by a local Chitrali that every self-respecting must have this tree in his home garden. By that definition, the most powerful and rich man in Chitral, the Mehtar of Chitral (former rulers) should have lots of good chestnut trees. And sure enough there are those large, over 100-years old, grand chestnut trees all over the place. Their size must be understood via this frame of giant leaves on the floor.
I like this photograph very much. Firstly, because a traveller to Chitral MUST never miss them. This tree epitomizes the stature of the man in Chitrali society. I was informed by a local Chitrali that every self-respecting must have this tree in his home garden. By that definition, the most powerful and rich man in Chitral, the Mehtar of Chitral (former rulers) should have lots of good chestnut trees. And sure enough there are those large, over 100-years old, grand chestnut trees all over the place. Their size must be understood via this frame of giant leaves on the floor.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Lowari Tunnel, NHA Office, Pakistan
This photograph marks the end of my photography session of the entire trip, which stretches from our trek till this place. The heat had vanished suddenly, heavy clouds were hovering around and there was this general feeling that the place was tense but exceedingly beautiful. I was informed at this checkpost that all foreigners are now banned from visiting this place anymore due to espionage problems. Even Pakistanis - all of them and without any distinction - are stopped here and asked to produce their ID cards. Additionally, we were asked to delete all photographs of nearby places. I questioned the rationale here because, if you search google.com and flickr.com, then you will come across hundreds of photographs of this beautiful place. I let it pass and so did Zahid bhai. But Zahid bhai was also able to take the frame of Pakistan-Afghanistan border.
From Chitral to Lowari Pass
Date: 23rd Sep, 2011.
And our Toyota passed numerous mountains, people and places before coming to a screeching halt outside this stone place. I wasn't sure why until our driver informed us that new driver will take his place, instead. He would be sleeping in the trunk!
Whilst all preparations were taking place, we bargained for the pomegranates (5 Kg for Rs.350, no less); and I took this frame of a boy outside his stone home. This was also the home of our new, youngish driver. I cannot recall the name of the driver now. We picked up the speed again...
And our Toyota passed numerous mountains, people and places before coming to a screeching halt outside this stone place. I wasn't sure why until our driver informed us that new driver will take his place, instead. He would be sleeping in the trunk!
Whilst all preparations were taking place, we bargained for the pomegranates (5 Kg for Rs.350, no less); and I took this frame of a boy outside his stone home. This was also the home of our new, youngish driver. I cannot recall the name of the driver now. We picked up the speed again...
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Places in Pakistan: Markhor horns, Chitral
September 23, 2011 at 11.19am PKT
We walked around the massive walls of the fort only to be informed about the presence of Mir of Chitral's family staying within the premises. Despite the fact that this little kingdom was abolished by Government of Pakistan long time ago, this fort remains the personal property of the Mirs. People love them and they enjoy immense popularity in the city and beyond. I met so many Chitralis who told me that they would have been much happier had Mirs still be ruling Chitral district, as in previous times. But I and Adeel weren't at all happy because his presence meant we would not be able to go inside. Therefore, we turned sharply right and entered this beautiful guest house. And on its restaurant entrance there were these magnificent Markhor horns. I duly clicked and talked with its manager about tourists. He told me that the season was already closed and therefore, there weren't any tourists around here. We left without drinking our tea.
We walked around the massive walls of the fort only to be informed about the presence of Mir of Chitral's family staying within the premises. Despite the fact that this little kingdom was abolished by Government of Pakistan long time ago, this fort remains the personal property of the Mirs. People love them and they enjoy immense popularity in the city and beyond. I met so many Chitralis who told me that they would have been much happier had Mirs still be ruling Chitral district, as in previous times. But I and Adeel weren't at all happy because his presence meant we would not be able to go inside. Therefore, we turned sharply right and entered this beautiful guest house. And on its restaurant entrance there were these magnificent Markhor horns. I duly clicked and talked with its manager about tourists. He told me that the season was already closed and therefore, there weren't any tourists around here. We left without drinking our tea.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Places in Pakistan: Chitral Fort
Date: 23rd Sep, 2011.
After photographing and roaming around Chitral's Shahi masjid and after talking with its chief Imam, follower of Deobandi sect of Islam, we both moved towards Chitral Fort.
This is Adeel, with my heavy Lowpro camera bag, moving across the stone and mortar walls of the Chitral Fort. The area is completely shaded by giant chestnut trees (more of them later). The day was hot and a welcome sunshine as well. But too hot a day may also be not good for photography. After walking around these walls we were not permitted to enter the fort because the family of the Mir of Chitral, former rulers of the Kingdom, were here from Federal Capital, Islamabad, for their summers.
After photographing and roaming around Chitral's Shahi masjid and after talking with its chief Imam, follower of Deobandi sect of Islam, we both moved towards Chitral Fort.
This is Adeel, with my heavy Lowpro camera bag, moving across the stone and mortar walls of the Chitral Fort. The area is completely shaded by giant chestnut trees (more of them later). The day was hot and a welcome sunshine as well. But too hot a day may also be not good for photography. After walking around these walls we were not permitted to enter the fort because the family of the Mir of Chitral, former rulers of the Kingdom, were here from Federal Capital, Islamabad, for their summers.
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Places in Pakistan: Phander lake
Date: 21st Sep, 2011.
Location: 36°10'13"N 72°55'4"E
Finally, we were at Phander lake. The PTDC bus had dropped us next to a government rest house with all our camping gear strewn on the road. So we had to hurriedly remove all that stuff from the road otherwise there would have been a traffic jam and lot of honking. After removing all the luggage we were thinking about the room. We desperately wanted the room to throw all this stuff in it. Rest House seemed a good place to start. I nudged Adeel, who is in PSO, to talk his way into the rest house. I must tell you a thing or two about the rest houses maintained by Government of Pakistan. Firstly, they are all run on very professional basis, from the taxes that we pay. This is done to please the ministers and their bloated, egoistic families. Ministers in Pakistan almost always never pay their taxes. No wonder they are held with such contempt across the country. But Adeel did not show any contempt. He just asked the keeper to allow us for a single night in any room which might be available. He solemnly informed all of us that all rooms were empty but he is not allowed to give any non-official any room. Then Zahid bhai stepped forward, his think palm into the palm of the keeper and informed the poor man that he is a journalist from GEO TV, which off course was a blatant lie. But Zahid bhai specializes in lying to government chowkidars and keepers. He has done it before and he was doing it again, under intense cold and mounting clouds overhead. After 30 minutes of negotiations, casual promise of a bribe, and promises that we would only stay one night, we were allowed into a room with no beds and no running water and no heater. Well, we still agreed to pay Rs.250 for a night in. The private hotel, belonging to a Ismaili, opposite this rest house would have cost us Rs.1000 for a night.
We soon dragged our luggage, walking sticks and some fruits into the room, took our cameras out and scrambled for outdoors. This was the first, open view of the lake from our side. You can note PTDC motels, run by Government, across the lake. This place was very beautiful and the only disappointment was the lake, for which we had come so long a distance. I was truly disappointed by its appearance. It was the second time I had been so disappointed by a Pakistani lake, the first being Keenjhar lake in Sindh province.
Location: 36°10'13"N 72°55'4"E
Finally, we were at Phander lake. The PTDC bus had dropped us next to a government rest house with all our camping gear strewn on the road. So we had to hurriedly remove all that stuff from the road otherwise there would have been a traffic jam and lot of honking. After removing all the luggage we were thinking about the room. We desperately wanted the room to throw all this stuff in it. Rest House seemed a good place to start. I nudged Adeel, who is in PSO, to talk his way into the rest house. I must tell you a thing or two about the rest houses maintained by Government of Pakistan. Firstly, they are all run on very professional basis, from the taxes that we pay. This is done to please the ministers and their bloated, egoistic families. Ministers in Pakistan almost always never pay their taxes. No wonder they are held with such contempt across the country. But Adeel did not show any contempt. He just asked the keeper to allow us for a single night in any room which might be available. He solemnly informed all of us that all rooms were empty but he is not allowed to give any non-official any room. Then Zahid bhai stepped forward, his think palm into the palm of the keeper and informed the poor man that he is a journalist from GEO TV, which off course was a blatant lie. But Zahid bhai specializes in lying to government chowkidars and keepers. He has done it before and he was doing it again, under intense cold and mounting clouds overhead. After 30 minutes of negotiations, casual promise of a bribe, and promises that we would only stay one night, we were allowed into a room with no beds and no running water and no heater. Well, we still agreed to pay Rs.250 for a night in. The private hotel, belonging to a Ismaili, opposite this rest house would have cost us Rs.1000 for a night.
We soon dragged our luggage, walking sticks and some fruits into the room, took our cameras out and scrambled for outdoors. This was the first, open view of the lake from our side. You can note PTDC motels, run by Government, across the lake. This place was very beautiful and the only disappointment was the lake, for which we had come so long a distance. I was truly disappointed by its appearance. It was the second time I had been so disappointed by a Pakistani lake, the first being Keenjhar lake in Sindh province.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Places in Pakistan: Mujavar village (19th Sep, 2011))
After we've left Mithramdan for good, five of us had decided to drop at Mujavar, the village of Hafizullah (pictured here with brilliant apples and dark grapes) and his brother, Azizullah, the police wallah. Other group members travelled to Gilgit for their return journeys.
This was the first of many things we got to eat at the hands of Hafizullah. The fruits were fantastic, though we knew instinctively that he had only a few of them at his disposal. Grapes were rather expensive but they were just as fantastic as any. Later we would get to eat the forbidden Markhor meat (I don't know who brought it to his home for us. Markhor is a rare animal and thus not allowed to be killed for meat or game). We also had good chai, cheese and lot of other heavy stuff. We stayed here for a night and next day it was time to explore something else.
This was the first of many things we got to eat at the hands of Hafizullah. The fruits were fantastic, though we knew instinctively that he had only a few of them at his disposal. Grapes were rather expensive but they were just as fantastic as any. Later we would get to eat the forbidden Markhor meat (I don't know who brought it to his home for us. Markhor is a rare animal and thus not allowed to be killed for meat or game). We also had good chai, cheese and lot of other heavy stuff. We stayed here for a night and next day it was time to explore something else.
Saturday, October 1, 2011
To Wakhan : Day 2 / Landscape
Two Jeeps ahead and we in tow. We knew from this instance what kind of landscape awaited us. It was chillingly cold here and it got colder as we proceeded.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
London riots and Altaf Hussain
Pir of London, Mr. Altaf Hussain, would be glad that his adopted motherland is burning to ashes right in front of him. The lovely, 1000-year old capital has http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifbeen hit by worst ever public rioting in living memory. This is something new for Londoners, people whose government has sent thousands of troops to kill and maim Muslims in Iraq and Afghanistan. People who once ruled over half of the world. Today their own disgruntled youth has turned against them. And it is funny to note that the destroyer and butcher of Karachi, Altaf Hussain, is in London while all this is happening.
In recent weeks, since MQM, the main party of Karachi and Hyderabad, a party which is traditionally supported by Urdu speaking families, left the main coalition party in Sindh (PPP) the city of Karachi has been left in tatters. Hundreds of people, mostly immigrant Pashtuns, have been killed by the violent MQM party. The backlash from the Pashtun supported ANP has been almost equal. Thus, the stalemate. And now, after hundreds of Karachi wallas are dead MQM has again accepted - on certain conditions - the parcels from Mr. Zardari.
Now people are saying - and rightly, I think - that MQM's chief, Mr. Altaf Hussain, might perhaps be responsible for the rioting presently underway across much of UK. This might be a joke but there is an element of truth in this: When you support a known terrorist and give him home and office space, he might just one day turn on you. A snake, they say, never really forgets its real self. Therefore, UK government must not rule out the possibility of rouges such as Altaf Hussain taking part in the freeloading during riots.
In recent weeks, since MQM, the main party of Karachi and Hyderabad, a party which is traditionally supported by Urdu speaking families, left the main coalition party in Sindh (PPP) the city of Karachi has been left in tatters. Hundreds of people, mostly immigrant Pashtuns, have been killed by the violent MQM party. The backlash from the Pashtun supported ANP has been almost equal. Thus, the stalemate. And now, after hundreds of Karachi wallas are dead MQM has again accepted - on certain conditions - the parcels from Mr. Zardari.
Now people are saying - and rightly, I think - that MQM's chief, Mr. Altaf Hussain, might perhaps be responsible for the rioting presently underway across much of UK. This might be a joke but there is an element of truth in this: When you support a known terrorist and give him home and office space, he might just one day turn on you. A snake, they say, never really forgets its real self. Therefore, UK government must not rule out the possibility of rouges such as Altaf Hussain taking part in the freeloading during riots.
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