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A proud
Pakistani ?
Dawn
By Maureen Lines
"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 Phandar.
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. --(Dawn)
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