Daily Dawn – Wednesday, 01 Jul, 2009
‘I AM a Pakistani’ was my mantra at every check-post. My driver, Janus, and I were making our way to Chitral on the KKH. Why take that complicated, horrendous route, now worse than the Torkhum/Kabul highway was in 2001, you ask?
It’s because we had tried to make the flight for eight days, got as far as the Lowari Pass twice only to turn back, and went through security six times. Everyone in PIA and every Chitrali knows that flights scheduled for 11:30am from Peshawar will not reach Chitral. Only early morning flights are likely to escape the clouds that begin to envelop the mountains just before midday.
Finally, an outright refusal to leave the airport on a Sunday resulted in some relief for passengers. PIA high-ups were sympathetic and helpful and honoured their customers’ demand for free accommodation, followed by early flights to Chitral. So far, however, the PIA head office in Karachi has not changed the schedule and people continue to suffer as crossing Malakand is too dangerous an option at the moment.
They say that the barometer of a society’s civility lies in its attitude towards its animals and in whether it supports the death penalty; with regard to animals, going through the bazaars was of special torment for me. I have heard
westerners call Muslims unkind to animals, but that generally applies to the urban lower classes and the uneducated.
The rural communities are generally kind to all living creatures; but stone-pelting youths that sent dogs hurtling towards the traffic were a common and deeply disturbing sight here.
We arrived at the PTDC in Gilgit at midnight, after battling rain, hail, mud and countless potholes. Once we even went completely off the road and headed for the mountain side. Anyway, many daunting twists and turns later, we were at the wonderful Chinor Inn — an old colonial building that, 30 years on, I still look at with immense pleasure.
And was happier still when the smiling receptionist greeted us with warmth and asked if we were hungry.
The next day Janus took the same arduous road home, and my Chitrali driver, Afzal, and I left Gilgit for Shandur. Crossing the Shandur was truly amazing. We travelled along a paved road through clean bazaars and towns, free of cruel youngsters, reached Gupis and then moved on to Phanda.
With each destination, the government’s apathy towards such treasures becomes increasingly stark and bewildering. Why doesn’t the tourism department of the NWFP work with the Northern Areas to promote the breathtaking beauty of Pakistan’s mountainous terrain that is perfectly safe, instead of holding bogus food festivals? There were international tourists in Gilgit and Bisham as well as local ones. Meanwhile, Shandur itself was absolutely glorious.
Although I have crossed it four times, it was always late in the season. This time, herds of yaks and donkeys dotted its pristine landscape, surrounded by snow-covered mountain tops.
At one check-post, just before the Chitral side, a young policeman smiled at me with disbelief, as he looked at my ID card. ‘So, you are Pakistani?’ ‘I am Pakistani,’ I nodded. ‘Are you proud to be a Pakistani?’ he asked. And I replied in the affirmative. As we drove off, I began to reflect. We were now on the Chitral side and passed through the gates that overlooked the polo field, on which yaks were contentedly grazing, with deserted stands and latrines ugly against the backdrop of mountains and a serene lake.
Inscriptions by phone and other companies were scratched into the rocks; the area had been completely corrupted and was so different from my earlier visits, when the lake was a scene of immaculate beauty and peace. No migrating ducks dare use this lake anymore for fear of being hunted down. We travelled on pitted roads, spending the night at the PTDC in Mastuj, a sharp, disappointing contrast to the one in Gilgit. And at each check-post I repeated the refrain: ‘I am a Pakistani!’ But the young policeman’s query had had a haunting impact — am I really proud? The answer would most certainly have been a ‘yes’ had the state invested in its youth, beginning with education and if those in office were armed with a vision and therefore, deserving of their position.
