It was a pleasant morning in Islamabad. The sunlight was soft, and the air carried that specific freshness only felt at the dawn of a new journey. We loaded our luggage into the car—every bag, every shawl, and every sack felt like a character in a story yet to be told.
Once everything was packed, we looked at one another with smiles in our eyes and a wave of excitement in our hearts. Standing by the vehicle, we offered a collective prayer:
“O God! May this journey be full of grace and blessings, and when we return, may we bring back hearts filled with the flowers of memory.”
As we set off, friends waved goodbye and laughter echoed. I was to join the group later on the way, and I felt a slight restlessness—as if a piece of my heart had been left behind.
The Wise Man’s Warning
On the road, we unpacked the biryani we had brought along. The aroma filled the air. We stopped by the roadside to make tea; as the steam rose, sparks of laughter scattered into the breeze. During this, an elderly man came and sat near us. As I handed him a cup of tea, he looked at me with a smile and said:
“Son, you will forget Kumrat, but it will be hard to even remember yourself.”
His eyes held a profound depth, as if he had already seen the wonders that awaited us.
Hospitality in Upper Dir
We reached Upper Dir shortly before evening. A very kind and hospitable friend was waiting for us there. His warm smile and the sweetness of his tone washed away all our travel fatigue. We spent the night in his hujra (guest room) amidst tea, laughter, and old stories. When the morning sun touched the leaves, we had breakfast, bid him farewell, and headed toward Kumrat.
The path was long and exhausting, but as we progressed, nature began to lift its veils. The roar of the river at the foot of the mountains, the scent of wildflowers in the breeze—a dream began to unfold before our eyes. At the Gate of Kumrat, we stopped to take photos and laugh; it felt as though time itself had paused.
By evening, we reached Thal Bazar. There stood an old wooden mosque, beautifully weathered by time. The peace inside was so profound that the heart yearned to stay. After prayers, we took tea, played a bit of cricket, and surrendered to sleep.
❄️ Kala Chashma, Glaciers, and Waterfalls
The next morning, we took a jeep toward Kala Chashma. The path was narrow but enchanting, lined with flowing water and the shade of ancient trees. When we reached Kala Chashma, the glaciers appeared like ice deities touching the earth. The sound of the water, the chilling breeze, and the snow glistening under the sun were beyond words.
There, we made pakoras and tea. Waqas and Khalid arranged a magnificent lunch. On our way back, we witnessed a breathtaking waterfall; the water shimmered as if moonlight had descended upon the earth.
🏔️ Jahaz Banda — The Valley of Snow and Quests
On the third day, as the first rays of the sun touched the mountain peaks, we set out for the dreamlike valley of Jahaz Banda.
As we started, the valley was waking up. In the fields, women were bent over, harvesting wheat, their scarves fluttering in the wind like colorful flags. There was the scent of wet earth beneath our feet, and the laughter of children playing in the distance.
“A journey is not just about mountains; sometimes, humanity reveals itself along the way.”
As our jeep passed the fields, the women looked up for a moment—smiles on their faces, the glow of hard work in their eyes. We waved, and that moment was etched into our hearts.
The path grew steeper, and the green of the earth began to turn into a brilliant white. I was slightly unwell that day, but the quest to see Jahaz Banda was burning in my heart, so I decided to complete the trek on foot.
Though the path was difficult, our spirits were high. In the silence of the mountains, the voice of a fellow traveler would occasionally echo: “Keep heart, brother, the distance is short!” And we would smile back, saying: “Stay with us; this journey shouldn't be traveled alone.” Strangers became kin on that trail. Someone offered water, another a smile. Jahaz Banda finally appeared—a green meadow wrapped in a white blanket of snow. It was nothing short of paradise.
🎶 The Return and the Taste of "Katwa Gosht"
The journey back was filled with music, gossip, and jokes. Our laughter rose above the noise of the engine. We stopped in the Chhech region to eat the famous Katwa Gosht. The aroma of the traditional meat dish erased the last bits of our exhaustion.
Reaching Islamabad, we thanked one another—Ahsan, Kashif Sahab, Jawad Malik, Haleeq Sahab, Kamran, Asif Sheikh, Abdullah, and especially Waqas Ahmed, Khalid Mahmood, and Abdullah for organizing such a seamless trip.
The journey ended, but the memories remained. The valleys of Kumrat, the peaks of Jahaz Banda, and that old man’s phrase:
“You will forget Kumrat, but it will be hard to remember yourself.”
It continues to echo within. This journey didn't just end; it became a living feeling. Perhaps life itself is such a journey—where the destination doesn't matter, only the memories we leave behind.
0 Comments