VANISHING MOUNTAINS

The bear went up the mountain, to see what he could see, But all that he could see, was the other side of the mountainBut it appears that the bear would no longer be seen scaling the mountains making the toddlers sing his praises. It was initially thought that the bear would now be seeing the other side of the mountain either by journeying up the heights on wheels or leisurely trotting through the gradually emerging tunnels. But the drama scripted, directed and enacted by the terrorists on the mountains has forced even the bear to stop playing in his habitat.Until quite recently one of the most romantic propositions coming forth from a friend or an acquaintance would no doubt be an intended flight to the mountains from the humdrum of the cities. With crooners singing of Laila residing in the far off black mountains, Pashto songs would take this romanticism to new heights. The reference was undoubtedly to the beautiful damsels living in the mountains of Darra and the highlands of Tirah. Both these areas of immense beauty are now out of bounds for the ordinary folks.Scriptures tell us of the mountains holding the earth from falling apart. And luckily the place that Divinity chose to provide that needed grip and sustenance to the earth happened to be none other than Pakistan as it is home to the world’s famous mountainous triumvirate, the Himalayas, Karakoram and the Hindu Kush. That we tend to be so oblivious of this monumental truth is one of the many quirks of fate afflicting our morbid aesthetic sense.Nonetheless, the shame part of this indifference aside, it is also a great source of strength as we hear the outside world telling us of how beautiful our mountains are.Not quite long ago Doris Lessing, British Nobel laureate for Literature in 2007, visited Pakistan and was heard remarking thus, ‘As far as Chitral, even now I can’t believe anything so wonderful.’Unfortunately, the splendor of the remarks was literally thrown to the winds when it was mentioned in a class in the civil officers academy in Peshawar. ‘The lady must have lost her sense of proportion,’ thus commented a boorish officer from the plains serving in the beautiful valley of Chitral. It is perhaps this mode of crass thinking together with games terrorists are playing in our midst that could be held squarely responsible for the dwindling beauty of our bewitching mountainous north and northwest. The beauty of Chitral is so well pronounced that perhaps the Godly scheme of things considered it useful to shield the valley behind massive walls of mountains from the prying eyes of the fiddlers. But human minds kept probing. They found Kalash hidden snugly in those mountains and built a road to it. Within no time bank swindlers got wink and built numerous hotels in the midst of where Kalash people were peacefully resting; forcing Lahori murgh-choley down their throats.Today the much relished and brandished Kalash culture is a mere slogan from the past: unimaginative tourism turned out to be the beast that devoured its own offspring.Living in close proximity to the people of Central Asian states and having similar features, Chitralis are fairly beautiful and soft-spoken people. They have struggled long and hard for a tunnel through the Hindu Kush that would inextricably link them to the rest of Pakistan in all weathers. The eight kilometer something long tunnel will very soon see the light of the day. Lest the Chitralis take an offence, the tunnel may kill the sense of curiosity that keeps one egging on to the wonderlands of the majestic valley through the treacherous Lowari Top. It would be like a dream turned sour having reached Chitral and not having experienced the compelling solitude of the Lowari Top. ‘Life could be so beautiful in its absolute quietude,’ is the realisation that the erring man encounters only at the summit of Lowari.The negation of this spiritual nirvana is something that an adventurous mind might retrieve through his own machinations. What the Chitralis may never recover in the blazing light of the tunnel is the loss of Mother Nature that has been living in Chitral in all its manifestations since Creation.Living in the mountains could be an ordeal for the permanent dwellers in the context of the present day comforts. The Kalash could very well confront us with their own arguments. They would perhaps loathe the idea of being seen as a relic from the past and being preserved as such while living in abysmal poverty. But why is life being disturbed on the nearby lush green hills in clement climatic conditions?Man may not move the mountains, at best he could circumvent his way through the mountains or denude them of trees as has happened in Swat during the current spate of militancy. But man is definitely causing irreparable damage to hills.The worst casualty is the hill station of Abbottabad. The verdant hills surrounding the beautiful valley of Abbottabad have all been turned into shabby slums. Man and machine could be seen working round the clock bringing down the hills to make room for more townships and a plethora of private medical colleges and schools.Ambitious politicians are not lagging behind; they are blasting mountains to reach small hamlets on the hilltops in their four wheelers. There are plenty of tablets displayed alongside the mountainous roads in Hazara announcing the opening of roads courtesy the various members of the assembly. Gaudily painted fiberglass gates have replaced the wicket gates to the houses of nouveau riche at the Nathiagali summer resort.Sometime ago an old lady from Karachi traveling in a van was found wonderstruck when she beheld the view of a massive wall of conifers on her maiden voyage to Nathiagali. ‘Oh my God I never imagined Pakistan was so beautiful,’ the old lady kept murmuring. That lady was our own Doris but she would be disappointed if she travels on the same road again.The timber and construction mafia has devastated the Himalayas in almost the same manner that terrorists have brought on the mountains in Swat and elsewhere.