From Brows into Boughs

From Brows into Boughs

By Tariq Bhatti

I was absolutely unmindful of the scenic charms and aesthetic ecstasy that unfolded itself during my travel to Pearl Valley and around. I had a vague idea about the proverbial beauty of Kashmir. As I came across the tall trees, greenish hilly surfaces, awesome mountains, snaking river, sprouting fountains, running streams, flowing brook, dancing falls, shining dew drops and delirious winds; my being was metamorphosed.

Planning may be a buzzword in urban living experience but it has a distant acquaintance with rural vocabulary. My trip to Rawala kot was also spontaneous. After reaching Islamabad I phoned my friend at Azad Pattan and set for the same. It was a pleasant sunny day of March; we reached our destination after two hours of cliff-hanging.

The journey to Azd Pattan was a unique experience as every turn and curve of the road conferred upon us a genre painting; overwhelmingly superior to each preceding one. A wide variety of green shades ranging from dark green, light green, moss green, and continual blend of white flowers of ripening apple trees and purple shades of mountain peaks were intoxicating.

I felt myself encompassed by the magnitude of surrounding. I was excitedly trying to
Preserve the beauty of mountainous landscape in my eyes. Gigantic and symmetrical trees were looking like a morning assembly of smartly dressed schoolboys, or vigilantly parading troops or perhaps both. I received last call from my fried when we were crossing Kahuta and soon after, we were in “no net work” area. We stepped down from our vehicle before the bridge at Azad Pattan. Vans, cars, and trucks were parked in queues on both sides of the river Jehlum.

“Engineers are busy in grouting and blasting”, we were told by our driver. “This bridge is a major link between Pakistan and Azad Jammu and Kashmir. The old bridge was smashed during 1992 flood” our host Mr. Tafseer Haider, a consultant in National High Way authority, was briefing us with an air of professional confidence. He was keen to tell us the engineering technicalities about the bridge under construction. I, however, confined my listening to the rudimentary information about 130- meter span and box girder technique of construction.

River Jehlum originates from the peaks lying in Muzaffarabad, Bagh, Poonch, and Rawala Kot districts. Small-scattered streams of these hills form a catchment area for Jehlum. However, its flow becomes fast and ferocious by the time it reaches Azad Pattan After a while we were taken to the residential place where we had to spend one night. It was exactly on the border of A.J.K and Pakistan. District Sadhnoutti of Azad Jammu and Kashmir begins onwards. The offices of excise and toll tax collectors are situated there.

Tafseer Haider told us about a beautiful fall three km down towards Muzaffarabad. Despite exhaustion we showed our readiness and our driver Akmal took us to the spot. We sat there till sun set. Artistically carved huge pieces of round, and flat bottomed stones with a goose necked handle used in the game of curling. It seemed we were in the company of clay pigeons. Enchanting chirping of birds contrasted with mysterious silence of vale. Uninterrupted flow of fall seemed captivating our souls. The brush and hammer work of divine sculptor is inspiring and flawless, I thought aloud.

As the mountains and trees hid the sun, darkness began to spread its wings and soon the whole valley was encapsulated. We came upward and crossed the river through a suspension bridge that swung like birches as we walked over it.

Next day we set for the Rawala Kot. The travel to Azad Pattan from Peer Wadahie was not without fear. But road to Rawala Kot was a journey in poignant pleasure. Single road serpenting through mountains; a thousand feet deep precipices were a constant source of fear. As one sees to the right bank bottomless abyss meets ones eyes. Possibility of “fall” makes the heart convulse. Mortal souls when encounter mighty phenomena of nature are over awed; and gravitational pull adds to their sense of littleness and vulnerability.

Russell in one of his essays says that sorrows and grief are a toll that human beings pay to inhabit this earth. Fear and uncertainty is the price without which beauties of nature cannot be appreciated. People born and grown up in plains hardly withstand the fright of steep ascent and sudden descent of hilly areas.

We heaved a sigh of relief on reaching Rawala Kot and immediately checked in Tourism Hotel. The hotel manager informed us about worth visiting places in Rawala Kot and beyond. He told us about Toulli Peer, Banjounsa Lake, Shaheed Galla, Chotta Galla and so on. Jameel, a young service man in Tourism Hotel exhorted us to see ruins of a temple at the top on Hajeera road. We hired a taxi and reached there. A desolate and broken structure of temple was telling a gloomy tale of bygone days. Decaying impact of time was discernable. Neither we nor our driver Asim (a graduate owner, driver, whose brother was living in America) knew the history of that Gurdwara but the warmth of that solitary room was motherly.

Asim also showed us the airport building that has been deliberately kept non-functional. He lamented the conspiracy. When asked about his solution of Kashmir dispute, he frigidly favored independent Kashmir. He was intensely cold about the future of his valley. After aimlessly roaming about in the streets of city we returned to our hotel. Fatigue of travel coupled with nutrient mutton yogurt precipitated us to sleep.

The other morning we started our journey to Khaigalla; a beautiful town from where both Toulli Peer and Banjounsa Lake could be approached. We hired a jeep from Khaigalla and drove towards Toulli Peer. It is one of the prettiest valleys in the world. It was like a bride wrapped in snowy gown walking on soft grassy carpet, playing with blizzards. Inhaling fragrant winds of mountain laurels; soothing the eyes of beholders. Fountains of hot water, believed to have curing effects for various ailments, lend mythical dimension to the charms of valley. Saran kot, Tata Pani (hotwater), Abbas Pur, Bagh and other cities of Kashmir can be seen from here. We lay there, stretching our arms and legs on snow, internalizing primordial human joy. It was extremely cool and we had no winter clothing so we had to cut our stay short and return.

Liaqat khan and Saabir, young guys from Shaheed Galla volunteered to guide us. Shaheed Galla is a place where Indian military martyred local Kashmiries in 1947. They are buried there in the cemetery. Grave of Raj Begum – wife of Hanas Khan, who laid her life at the prime of her youth – was prominent.

Later on we played cards with our Kashmiri friends and sadly enough, they could not win. On our way back to Banjounsa Lake, we fancied about the beauty of much talked about place. But it surpassed even the wildest of our thoughts. It was befitting reward after an uncertain journey.

Both rivers and mountains have some elements of enticement about them. Their beauty tempts and often leads astray”. It is true. Banjounsa Lake and Bun Baik Bazar left lasting imprint that is hard to delete and painful to become oblivious of. It was so serene and meditating that clinking of pebbles could make the valley echo. Silence was all pervading; even breathing – otherwise an effortless biological activity – was turned into a noisy exercise. Greenery was so intense and penetrating, at times it seemed that continuous gazing would transform brows into boughs; and human figure would become a walking tree itself.

Perhaps it is the transitory ness that makes things fascinating. Permanence results in drudgery that culminates into boredom and leads to apathy. I cogitated for a while but soon after my rational faculty was submerged, and I was carried away by the harmony around me.