“His fierce
brown eyes follow every move his prey makes, as he lurks in a dark corner, crouching
amidst scrubs and bushes. His victim stands no chance, for he is a master of
the chase, his agility unmatched and his resolve unmerciful. He’s poised to
move, ready for another unabashed kill – the Valley of the Wolves was not a
stranger to his antics.”
What may sound like a scene from the next season of
the Game of Thrones is actually a tale of a glorious past. Gorakh Hill, once a
battle ground hosting active pursuit of herds of deer by Cheetahs, has now
become a sordid piece of land, courtesy of the hunting proclivities of the feudal
lords residing in the area, where all that remains in the name of wildlife snakes, rabbits, mongoose and an occasional
Gila monster lizard. Personally, I had a singular encounter with our furry friends
- an emancipated bird trying to eke out a living in the extremely barren, but
surprisingly humid, environs of the summit of the 6,500ft hill.
However, the flora of the hill is truly spectacular.
From miniaturized silver palms to stunted olive
trees, one feels overwhelmed in the natural barren beauty, a truly
out-of-the-body experience that transcends the paradigm we are accustomed to as
our environment. Add to it the frigid weather and eerie silence, the place is
truly breathtaking, a solitary sanctum away from the loud horns and broken
silencers of the city. I can only imagine the beauty of the stark white
landscape when it snows in December.
Staring out while the morning was still young, past
the bumpy road to Hyderabad that was riddled with potholes and patches, we
found comfort in the highway to Dadu, comparable to international infrastructure by all standards.
Occasionally cruising up to 180km/hr at times, the surreal scenery made for a
pleasant drive. Mountains that were submerged under water millennia ago and in
every possible hue ensconced us. However, the dryness of the area did not
afford us the luxury to truly enjoy the scenery and it all became pretty vapid soon.
Passing by vast and verdant fields of Chilli plants, Cauliflower and Tomatoes,
we reached Dadu to embark upon the second part of the trip to a small town
called ‘Johi’ which would take us to a small outpost called ‘Johi Chando’,
where we would park our car at a gas station, leaving for the 56km trip up the
mountain in an outfitted Suzuki Potohar jeep (with a 2,000cc diesel engine).
The road to Johi Chando was a ride to hell due to
its atrocious condition. There were speed breakers that looked like perfectly
camouflaged rattlesnakes sleeping on the road, and we always seemed to hit
them, resulting in a rattling jump and an axle breaking thud (we kept our
fingers crossed throughout that 21km journey).
The trip to the summit of the mountain went by quite
quickly since the concentration and the diversity of the mountains had visibly
increased and we were entranced by the winding road upwards, and the rapid
change in weather that ensued.
Once we reached our destination, the hotel did give
a semblance of a nice cottage retreat, but on closer inspection, it was
surrounded by garbage, the infrastructure was crumbling, and though amenities
were available, there was no hot water (despite there being gas and water available).
As the locals put it, General Musharraf took
personal interest in this area and whatever it is today, however meager the
development, it is is only because of his efforts. He even laid a 55km long
water pipeline to bring water to the area. Not only that, he bought PKR 50mln
worth of Oleander flower plants and thousands of water storage tanks to turn
the desert into a colorful paradise. Sadly, the commencement of the plantation
process coincided with toppling of the government, resulting in confiscation of
the expensive plants and tanks by the local waderas for sale in the open market.
Ironically, a local managed to retain five plants which he planted in the area
and are thriving since then as a vivid testament to what could have been!
The plot thickens. Rumor has it that some Chinese
entrepreneurs offered the MNA, who is also the Chairman of the GHA, an offer to
build a proper road all the way to the mountain top, with such superior quality
that it would enable even bikers to cycle their way up. The cherry on top, the
deal promised no toll tax for 10 years. The offer was refused, as ostensibly,
he had some vested interests in keeping the area underdeveloped. People who
don’t want to see this area developed have gone as far as precipitating the
perception that Dadu is chock full of dacoits who will block your car and whisk
you away for ransom. I did not. All my friends who have visited the area echo
the same sentiment as m. The people there are extremely friendly and respectful
of the visitors, as tourism is lucrative livelihood for them. The two brothers,
who run the only hotel on the hill, have invested their own savings to
accommodate visitors, and amongst other things, have a cook that probably makes
the best food in the world. He just would not stop bragging about the fact that
he knows 150 recipes and has a Facebook page. Apart from that, there is an
abundance of labor willing to help you every step of the way, wherein the 150+
formal employees hired by the GHA are nowhere to be found, all ghost employees,
earning salaries from comfort of their homes.
The sun sets quickly at this height, and soon it was
pitch black. The generators roared into action as the electricity comes at 4
hour intervals. There were no stars on the sky, inscrutable, since in this
darkness and pollution free environment, one would expect to see the entire
universe and experience a feeling of unparalleled catharsis. But I drew my
inner calm from the silence all around; frightening, but intense enough to
force me to introspect, and marvel the wonders and vastness of God’s creation.
It is a miracle in the first place indeed to experience snow just 4 hours from
the humid and sizzling hot weather of Karachi. I may never visit this place
again, but it has found a place in my heart. Without prejudice, I pray that the
spirit of patriotism that Punjab shows in everything that they do, trickles
down to Sindh as well; the feeling of ownership and an obligation to leave
something for their progeny. We committed the cardinal mistake of not
eliminating feudalism when India did in 1948, and now are reaping the bitter
fruit of servitude and despondency that is so evident on everyone’s face here
in rural Sindh.
* This article was written by Mr. Abdul Jawad Choudhary
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