June is as hot as ever. The hot days until the rains come. Imprisonment in the rooms. The wings have been shown solely to give a sense of proportion. The falling of the blue sparrows. Drinks Little birds roaming the dry grass in search of water, sometimes a coyote perched on a mango tree. In such a situation, the memory of cold days creates a strange sadness.

When the heat is on in Punjab in summer, I miss the shadows of Ghazar district of Gilgit-Baltistan. Man has a picture album in the form of a screen of his mind, which opens and goes away.

Science has come a long way. It does everything for the comfort of the human body but what of the soul, which is an invisible thing. Even if the body finds peace, the search for peace of soul keeps man restless. The principles of its development may not be determined in a laboratory. Traveling to see and feel nature is a great recipe for spiritual peace.

Gilgit is a square. A central place that leads to charming valleys, caves, rivers, springs, canals, waterfalls, plains, and ancient settlements. Before Gilgit, the road leads to Skardu on one side and the Naltar Valley on the other. If we walk to the third side, we reach Khanjrab Pass through Hunza and Hunza. Left fourth direction. The fourth direction leads to Ghizr. Ghazar District The traveler who walks along the Ghazar River reaches Shandor Pass and then beyond it are the settlements of Chitral. Ghirr is a land of colorful waters. Surrounded by trees, this area is truly a paradise and the Phindar Valley is the pearl crown of this area.

I remember the month of Muharram when I decided to leave Gilgit. He descended from the heights of Hunza and encamped at Gilgit. The valley was filled with the sadness of four hundred autumns, which made the whole atmosphere mournful.

Leaving Gilgit in mourning, I proceeded and the Karakoram mountain range was left behind. Now the jeep started running in the mountains of Hindu Kush. If you go out on Ghizr Road, the river Ghizr joins it. Its cool, freshwater waters are full of trout.

Walking along the river, small settlements pass by the river on the right hand side. Proceeding from the site of Sher Qila, the towns of Gahkoch and Panyal greet the traveler on the main road.

Gahkoch is the district headquarters. Across Panyal, across the river, on the right hand side, is a small settlement. The whole village is covered with vines. The light from the grape leaves falls on the ground. The air smells of grapes. Grape production is highest here. Bulls pass over the roofs of houses. When you go in the season, the bunches of grapes look very beautiful.

My introduction to gach is limited to grapes and shades. I like to walk in its streets in the shade of leaves. It is a village completely cut off from outsiders. Except for the main road, no one enters here except the locals, so people stare in amazement at any strange sight. The children run away in shame and the elders stare. That's why there's an uneasiness inside that you should leave.


Ghizr is a district in Gilgit-Baltistan that shares borders with Tajikistan, including Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. On one side are the hilly areas of upper Swat and on the other side is Chitral. The district is also connected to Tajikistan via the Yassin Valley and the Cromber Pass. The population is mostly peasants and Gujars. The word 'ghazar' is derived from the local word 'gharz' which means 'refugee' in the local language.

The rulers of Chitral were called Mehtar. They would send their unwanted people out of the area and go to Gopis in Ghizr. These Chitral Badr people started settling in this area. As a result of the Bhutto government's political reforms, the monarchy came to an end, and Ghizer was given the status of a district. If we look at the history, Ghizr came under the rule of many kings. The Katura, Broche and Khushota families ruled here in different periods, later dividing the whole area between the Mehtar of Chitral and the Maharaja of Kashmir. After 1895, Ghizr was attached to the Gilgit Agency, which was governed by the British.

The crowded market for coaches is small. The car kept passing through small settlements. Gopis came. Gopis is the capital of Ghizer District. I saw an open lake passing by the road. The lake is formed by the stagnation of river water in an open space. The river flows along the lake. Children were selling boiled potatoes on the street. The potatoes here are unique in taste.


When we got off the road and reached the shore of the lake, we saw small fish in the water with the reflection of the surrounding mountains. Clouds began to cover the sky. When strong winds began to blow, the surface of the lake became unstable. Nearby, two locals were fishing. The first drop of rain from the sky made my heart ache, and it was so annoying that the trout coming out of the colorful waters of Ghizr would be less annoying.


 There was rain and there was a lake. It was a wet day. He was a wet passenger in wet moments. Water began to flow down from the mountains. The valley was deserted. If raindrops fell on the water, small waves would run in small circles. Then the rain stopped. The sun peeked out of the clouds. The colors of the rainbow were about to fade, but perhaps they had stopped somewhere or nature had changed its decision in view of my insane state. The day was cold. I left the lake. The jeep began to move slowly on the wet road.


The water of the river Ghazar kept ringing. The water kept flowing. The driver's seat kept changing sides. Abida Parveen's voice kept scattering in the air of the valley. Gangs of children, shy laughter of girls, smiles of elders, astonishing faces of women remained companions. How come What settlements pass? Clouds rained from the sky again. The sun then blinked at the cloud. The farmer working in the fields stopped plowing and said goodbye with a hand gesture.


I forgot to blink my eyelids in the window of the jeep and was lost in the beauty of Ghizr. There were colors that went hand in hand. The green of the fields. Autumn red, yellow, orange, saffron colors. Some fields had been harvested, and their soil was deep khaki. Gray color of electricity poles and dripping wires. Paint the walls of houses. Dark blue in the middle of the black clouds bursting in the sky. I felt like I was on a boat, not a jeep, floating in a sea of ​​colors. The sailor wrapped the sail. Anchored The jeep stopped.


Just below where the jeep was parked, there was blue water with autumn poplar trees standing on its banks. It was Lake Phandar. This valley was Phandar. Pearl crown of Ghizr's head. I remember once before when I was a guest of the same valley and stepped on the land of Phandar, the sun was shining from the walls, the shadows of the poplar were getting longer, the valley was half in the shade, half in the sun.


The sky was now open and a piece of cloud hung over it. He had been hanging there for a long time and I would see him again and again that maybe something had moved on. When the wind blows, the leaves of the poplar and some small delicate twigs fall down. If it fell, it would sound like an explosion. When I heard the fluttering of wings, I looked around, but I did not see any birds, so I looked again at the piece of cloud that was still in its place.


The sound of wings echoed again and a long-tailed bird flew in front of me and perched on a high branch. It was the Bird of Paradise. Its tail was more than a foot long and its wings were blue. The Bird of Paradise is found in the north of Pakistan, but is a very rare bird and is not commonly seen. When you see it flying, its long tail flies behind you in the air as if someone has tied a rope. When the bird flew, I turned my attention to the cloud.


Lamps began to burn in the valley. The lights of the passing cars started burning. The piece of cloud changed color and began to reflect red, then the ink began to turn. What a sight it is to see the valley at the top in the evening. With each passing moment, the shadows deepen and the heart settles within. Night was falling in the valley of Gopis. The lamps were burning. Smoke was rising from the chimneys of the stoves. A cloud of smoke seemed to rise from every house, which hung in the air above and stayed there for a long time. It had been a long time since Shafaq's headline had disappeared, and even a piece of cloud had become a black line.


The valley was flourishing in the morning. Men and women were working in the fields, children were shaking hands and small children were playing sports. A hunter hunted a large bird on the lake of Phandar, the name of which he did not even know, but he knew that the meat of this bird is delicious and is placed on top of the Chitrali hat.



It had been cloudy for half a day, but by noon the sky was clear. There was a rush at the PTDC motel. Lake Phandar is located just below where the PTDC is built. When he went out to eat in the evening, he found a French old man with a thick beard and long white hair. At first I thought that there was a Malang or Dervish-like person. He spoke in broken English so I went to him. While smoking a cigar, he used to go down to the lake.


When the conversation started, he said that his son came to the north of Pakistan many times, and died here. Reinhold was inspired by Messner (Messner is the world's most famous climber), and he himself was a great climber. Her body could not be retrieved from K2, and when it could be retrieved, her mother took her to Austria and buried her in Austria. He occasionally comes to Pakistan on vacation and since he cannot cross the Baltoro Glacier himself, he spends some time in the north of Pakistan, remembering his son and returning.


 

 

  














He said that he came to Pakistan for the first time in a world of hatred. He was irritated by the mountains and Pakistan, but then he was captured by the same valleys that had snatched his son. When his story was over, I said goodbye to him with some words of consolation. I didn't want to be distracted by his cigars, his son's memories, and the lake view.


As evening fell, I sat on a chair behind the PWD rest house, which was connected to the road, where the helipad was also built, and began to look at the valley from a height. The coming of death in the north is a very romantic idea for me, especially when the sun is setting from the mountains and the sky is changing color. By the way, I traveled as much as the chain allowed me to do, and in the future I will be able to do as much as I can with the grief of work, as much as it is fun and business will continue. what should we do. "Even the feet are numb and the hobby does not go away." When night fell, the cold began to seep into my veins and it became difficult to sit outside. Beta in Phandar ended one day.

The jeep started and went beyond Phunder to Tarot. Beyond Tarot Phindar is a small village with small islands in the Ghizer River on which grow velvet grass and a few trees. Let's say there are small islands floating on water. The moon of the first dates shone on these islands and waters, and the stars twinkled.

- Photo by Syed Mehdi Bukhari
Syed Mehdi Bukhari Photo of Ghazar River near Phandar
PWD Rest House Photo by Syed Mehdi Bukhari
It was cold walking along the river Ghazar. It was a night of deep silence. Nothing could be heard except the noise of the water flowing. In the dim light of the moon, the islands would feel like shadows. In distant lost valleys, it is fun to lean against a tree with your hands in your jacket pockets and look for falling stars. Tarot is a magical land, and that too was a magical night. As I write this today, sitting on a hot June night, the front wall of my room becomes a cinema screen, on which the scene of last night in Tarot begins to play.

Insha wrote 'Chand Nagar' which is lying half open on my bed. Insha 'has used the moon and the metaphor of the moon in various places in his poetry. I don't know what Insha Ji used to do in the dark nights. There are moonlit nights. The stars are barely visible in the city lights. My hobby is watching the North Star at night. The northern star is seen from afar and I see it.

It's always here. Doesn't change places and I keep seeing it in the dark of night. Sometimes a city, sometimes a town. This star will shine over Gilgit-Baltistan. At that very moment, its reflection will be dissolving in the waters of Schuster and above the sleeping houses in the valleys of Hunza Nagar. Reflected in the lakes of Ghizr, shimmering on the high valley of Naltar, glistening above the settlements of Ghancha, glistening over the fields of Rama village.


A star also shines in the south, but it is dim. That star will shine on the Jhang behind which a Hazara left the throne and went to Jhang. These two stars are metaphors of love. They always meet in the same place and the moon is a metaphor for wandering which stays in the journey all night. The journey to Gilgit-Baltistan is over. Next was Shindor, where Khyber Pakhtunkhwa begins. Across Shindor were the settlements of Chitral. Somewhere in the settlements they had the valleys of Kailash.









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