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The Terrorland, Rawalpindi (2024)

04/12/2023

Gulmit

(Part 9: IT Basti)

By Habib Sulemani

My beloved paternalgrandfather, Mir Khor, had sent the Lukhs' hamlet of Gulmit into the depths of my consciousness during my childhood;

Lukhs' was a neighborhood where the younger siblings of Grandpa's mother, Lupmoom Hoxo, lived;

The comparatively vast neighborhood started with the house of Grandpa's uncle (Luppup Masumsho) in the west and ended at the house of his auntie (Lupmoom Murjun) in the east while in the middle was the house of his second uncle (Luppup Dulie).

When I founded the Sulemani Sound Library, as a schoolboy, and started interviewing the elderly people of Gulmit, I recorded the voice of Luppup Masumsh;

Unfortunately, Lupmoom Murjun and Luppup Dulie had died by then.

However, the mistyimage of Luppup Dulie is still in my mind due to the importance of his official job:

Luppup Dulie, an illiterate man, was the IT Guy of the erstwhile Hunza State, although there was no concept of Information Technology back then.

In today's lingo, Luppup Dulie was a telephone operator, but fifty years ago, he was a godly messenger, because there was only one ancient telephone in Gulmit, which was inside the Mir of Hunza's palace and he was its operator;

So, Luppup Dulie was the key source of messages, news and views, not only for the Mir but also for the commoners, especially those men and children who regularly came to the Razek Parliament.

Luppup Dulie's godly status has influenced three generations of the neighborhood in the fields of telecommunication and masscommunication:

Bech Ejaz, an educated man from the second generation, may've joined the Pakistan Army Corps of Signals on seeing the importance of Luppup Dulie;

PAMIR TIMES is the famous online newspaper of Gilgitbaltistan; Zaqyor Zulfiqar is its editor-in-chief from this neighborhood and a grandson of Luppup Dulie.

-----

December 4, 2023.

04/12/2023

The shepherd with the herd of gulmitik sheep today!

02/12/2023

Gulmit

(Part 8: Donkeyden to Downtown)

By Habib Sulemani

Like Skordur, Goz, Mangshe, Chamangul and Jandokum, Khurlakhs' is also a lowlandlower hamlet of Gulmit along the Hunzariver.

Khurlakhs' literally means the Den of Donkey!

Who'd named it after the beast of burden?

Maybe Pup Nurmamad, Pup Dostali, Pup Libuy, Moom Afzun, Bech Niyatmamud, Voch Nozyon, Bech Sikandar, Bech Aslam, or elseone who'd land in the Den of Donkey?

Why did they name it in this weird way?

It was an uninhabited place in the lastcentury; humanbeings rarely went there except the roaming and grazing donkeys of the village;

Thus someone called it the Den of Donkey; though defamatory and abusive, but it turned into the permanentname of the locality.

However, some oralhistorians don't agree with my notion, and present an alternativenarrative.

"As far I know," Hamro Aliyamon claims, "there were two young donkeys, I mean foals, actually colts, who used to visit this uninhabited place regularly long, long, very long ago;

"One of the colts came from the northwest street of the Gulmit Pologround while the other popped up from the inner-northeast-street;

"Amidst braying and kicking each other and whoever came on their way, they used to go to this isolated place for grazing, and in search of fillies to play with."

Mormor Madyorbig agrees with the story of Hamro Aliyamon but he adds: "They weren't real colts but naughtyboys who behaved like donkeys, the stubborn beast of burden!"

However, Mormor Alyar and Hamro Krimbahar politely disagree with the aforesaid viewpoints, saying that it needs a socioanthropologic researchpaper!

The final say in this regard must come from the current residents of the area, especially Bech Abdulsulton, Lupyor Jabbar, Khuy Shadia, Lupyor Niyat Karim, Lol Mabobali, Lol Ayub, Lol Krimaslam, Khiryan Shahid Sultan and others.

The socalled historicaltruth doesn't matter in this digitalage which believes in virtualtruth!

Today that Donkeyden has become Downtown Gulmit, where the district and tehsil managements, and other government departments have their offices;

Silk Route Lodge, Gulmit Tourist Inn, Horse Shoe Motel, Mintika Lodge, Karakorum Family Guesthouse, Bozlunj Cafe, Stoneage Cafe, Shahchiragh Teahouse, Adilbeg Market, and other key businessoutlets are situated in this locality of Gulmit along the Karakoram Highway.

Donkey is a sign of stupidity in the Wakhisociety, but it's a mark of wisdom, service, suffering, peace and humility in the Americansociety;

Therefore, donkey is the electoralsymbol of the Democratic Party of President Joe Biden.

By the way, whoever labelled this neighborhood of Gulmit as the Den of Donkey, was a visionary person!

How?

Well, this is the place where the famous Americanwriter and Democratic Party enthusiast Noor Pamiri was born!

Nevertheless, the mostfamous face and permanentresident of this locality of Gulmit is Voch Mojza; her comic comments and hilarious dance bring smile even on the faces of those gloomy people who've nothing left in this world to smile!

----

December 2, 2023.

01/12/2023

Gulmit

(Part 7: People's Spymaster)

By Habib Sulemani

The postcovid-era-Gulmit is as chaotic as was the post-nineeleven-world...

(Ay yo yo!)

Nothing seems evolved and in order although Gulmit has evolved from the Tehsil Headquarters into the Subdivisional Headquarters of Gojal, and Hunza itself has become a district---a big gain since the loss of statehood.

(Aaa ha!)

Administratively, economically, intellectually, ecologically and socially, Gulmit is in a massivemess like Pakistan.

(Oho!)

The civil administration isn't let do its job according to the laws; assistant commissioners get transferred within months, and the inconsistency in policies is depriving people of basic amenities: electricity, water, internet, flour, fuel etcetera, and destroying the localeconomy as businesses are closing down.

(Na kar... within two years, a cup of chai has skyrocketed from thirty rupees to sixty rupees!)

The Gulmit Library has been closed for public; literary endeavors are discouraged so that the new generation doesn't grow intellectually to demand for constitutional rights.

(Bu****it!)

I'm facing systematic sleeptorture at nights for starting this Gulmit series of protry, which I call prosepoetry for the understanding of those people who're familiar with lyricalpoetry only.

(Teri... tyranny!)

Only strategic mountaineering, skiing, soccer, boxing and other physical activities are encouraged to keep Gilgitbaltistan intellectually in the dark as the Deprivistan within Pakistan.

(Cunning!)

Ecology is being turned into archeology!

(Hy Hy)

The architectless architecture is creating a concretejungle with no sewersystem; soon boilinggutters will turn the Gul-e-Gulmit into a guttermit.

(Ghuter ghut... akto!)

Socially, no one cares for no one, not even for themselves; nothing matters to nobody as intellectual indoctrination goes on through twentysix actors of the deepstate...

(Toba toba!)

For the population of fivethousand people, the Inter-Services Intelligence has appointed three highranking and three middleranking local officers to harass and, if needed, kill people through a deathsquad, comprised of retired and serving soldiers.

(Afos... young people have been killed in Passu, Ghulkin, Gulmit and other villages!)

For similar purposes, the Military Intelligence has appointed one highranking, one middleranking and one lowranking local officers.

(Woy woy!)

Separately, these top spyagencies have recruited primary, secondary and tertiary agents to control every man, every woman and every child in every household of this mountainius town.

(Allella!)

The nearly twodozen other spyagencies have also their officers, informers and touts in Gulmit, but they rarely matter in the presence of ISI as the premier spyagency-cum-godlike political and military force.

(Chee chee... it's brought our beloved nuclearpower on the brink of collapse!)

The "nonlocal" spymasters, their family members and friends visit the valley, and behave like Colonel Durand and other colonialmasters from the Britishraj:

(Shaitan!)

I saw a twostar general along his friend booking an entire auberge for days, and going for illegal hunting around Borit Lake in an entourage of government officers and convoy of cars, jeeps and pickups;

(Sirjee sirjee!)

I also saw the son and daughter of a onestar general reserving an entire guesthouse for weeks; they terrorized people while moving around the valley, accompanied by rogueryguards with "airborne" stickers on the back of their uniformshirt;

(La lala!)

Who paid the bills of these generals worth millions of rupees?

(Hoy hoy!)

The shameless openloot of generals and their families, which started with former armychief General Kayani and his brothers, continues, and yet the Islamic Republic of Pakistan is present on the globalmap.

(Beyshak... it's a miracle of Allah!)

All governmental and nongovernmental organizations are under the control of the spymasters, their family members and friends.

(Ayashi!)

The district management, police and other government departments have been highjacked by the spyagencies while their own officers are glorious hostages of the Kayani-Abbas mafia.

(Roko!)

Pakistan needs patriotic spymasters, like late Beach Jalol, who was the People's Spymaster; about fiftyyears ago, he'd brought those serving soldiers of Pakistanarmy to justice who'd looted shops in Gojal.

(Wawa... bring the corrupt generals to justice like the terrorizing Safarmina Dakoits!)

The antistate spyagencies need to change their software and hardware; plus, the spymasters need to recode their antipublic neurons; they both must do it to strengthen the pillars of the state.

(Shabash... it's the legal way to protect your lucrative jobs!)

Only restructuring of spyagencies and recoding of spymasters can bring the state out of the deadlyjaws of the dragonian deepstate.

(Subhanallah!)

---
December 1, 2023.

30/11/2023

Gulmit

(Part 6: Climatechange)

By Habib Sulemani

Just a talk on environmental issues of Gulmit canbe a thickbook, but I want to grow this part of my prosepoem as an abridged version of that book!

There're half-a-dozen irrigationalglaciers in the lap of guardingmountains;

The existence of these glaciers, which are lifeline of civilization, is in danger due to climatechange.

Instead of evolving into an urbancivilization, the ruralcivilization of Gulmit is dying fast as sickglaciers are on the climaticbed:

I went upto Zuyhel along Zaqyor Abidkrim and observed the receding Kamaris Glacier;

I see sparklingtears of the Shatubar Glacier when I go outside my house on sunny days;

After praying at the grave of the great musician, Darbish Ustod in Shishkat, Hamro Aliyamon showed me the fastmelting Baltbur Glacier;

From the car of Zaqyor Ghlomramon, I've tried to peek into the meltingheart of Brundbar Glacier;

While sipping chai at Yazyupkcafe along Lupyor Sherghazi, Lupyor Tayibjan & Zaqyor Faryad, I felt the mighty Ghulkin Glacier dissolving in my teacup like sugar;

Zaqyor Krimramon has shown me the fadingaway Passu Glacier from the top of Borit;

All glaciers are dying which would leave highlands barren and seasidecities inundated.

As I'm writing this firstdraft of my longpoem, December is knocking at the door but yet there's no snowing to keep glaciers alive, as it used to do in the previous millennium;

Similarly, instead of March, water for irrigation becomes abound only in May.

Like the glaciers, climatechange is making the flora and fauna cryoutloud, but nobody hears it; not even those environmentalists who've professional degrees from the brotheling universities...

(Eventhen the illegal overhunt of markhor and other wildanimals goes on secretly, besides the selfstyled trophyhunting...)

The ruthless ultraviolet rays of the angry sun have turned the Gulmitguarding apricotic Pulpul mountain ashy, and the apricotfruit itself looks like an xrayimage of the carbonated lungs of a smoker!

In absence of traditional manure from the sroy of houses and corral of cattle, use of pesticides and fertilizers has affected crops besides reducing the number of useful insects, birds and members of the animalkingdom.

(Knowingly or unknowingly, governmental and nongovernmental organizations have played equal role in this environmental decrepitude...)

I'm in the mountains but neither can I see the singing alpinebirds nor can find the delicious alpinefruits of my adolescence...

The highlandflora and uplandfauna have either become history or are hiding from me!

Stories of natural and humanistic disasters have intermingled with each other as if men embracing after Eid.

Subsistence farming has come to an end in Gulmit; everyone depends on the substandard subsidized wheatflour from the Federal Government, which the constitutionless people of Gilgitbaltistan get as a sort of royalty for the Induswater that irrigates rest of Pakistan.

(Perpetual foodinsecurity due to natural and strategic calamities, which often cut the mountainlocked region from rest of the world, is eating souls first before cancering bodies in all over Gilgitbaltistan!)

If climatechange is doing this much hazard to the ecology of a smalltown, like Gulmit, just imagine, what it would do to other parts of Planetearth in the coming days?

Oh, my goodness!

How to evade the environmentaltragedy?

It's an existentialthreat to life on Planetearth!

Alas, worldleaders are busy at the military-militant-created theaters of war in Europe and Asia, without realizing that naturalcalamities can turn the wholeworld into a sort of Ukraine and Palestine!

----

November 30, 2023

29/11/2023

Gulmit

(Part 5: Goz & Mangshe)

By Habib Sulemani

A devastating landslide had given birth to the Atabad Lake for the "nonlocalrich" but ruined houses and agriculturalland of the "localpoor" in 2010.

Thus the lushgreen Goz and Mangshe hamlets of the Town of Gulmit submerged in the blocked Hunzariver.

In the preemailera, Mangshe had achieved nationwidefame when a roadside apricottree appeared on a postagestamp of the Pakistan postalservices.

That historical tree along the land is now dead; there's nothing but barerock, gravel, snd, silt, clay and other earthen material with little vegetation.

(But Lupyor Sheramud, Lol Dobur, Lol Shamsher and others are trying to bring the deadland back to life in some way!)

The green Goz is now a barrenland.

There's no sign of the Putbogh of Pup Yosufbig, which was a mirror of Wakhi aesthetics in mountaingardening;

A view of that garden had given me a poetic idea, but it got lost with the loss of the lovely Putbogh;

Now, that poetic idea is transforming into artistic musing without the muse around!

If the ruin of the naturallandscape has this much effect on the thinking of a poet, just imagine, what wouldbe the physical and mental conditions of displacedpersons of the inundated area?

The living are suffering.

Even the dead wouldbe in pain, but dead people never die of anguish!

Bech Bul, Bech Shamsher, Bech Sarwar, Bech Ghlomamad, Bech Sidlo, Moom Bano, Moom Matoy, Moom Enul, Khuy Jubla and other heavenly souls maybe worried about the future of their generations on Planetearth, as climatechange is playing havoc with glaciers, which are the soul of mountains!

"Atabad Lake has washed out the graves of our ancestors," I overheard someone asking. "Now from where they'd appear on the Day of Resurrection?"

(Instead of journalism and sociology, if I'd a degree in eschatology, I'd have interrupted, but ignorance kept me silent!)

Later on, I thought, this maybe the question that took the lives of two beloved men: Bech Madzio of Mangshe and Bech Amedbig of Goz!?

Oh, dear goziks!

Oh, lovely mangshiks!

I feel so sorry for you and other victims of the namaster: naturaldisaster botchedly fried in manmadedisaster!

When natural and manmade disasters join hands what happens?

Bech Mutabyat, as a trained accountant and former lawmaker of Gilgitbaltistan Assembly, may explain it in his forthcoming book...

But when I go for a walk, I can see an inexplicable answer in the eyes of displaced people!

Even then people are determined to turn the Atabad Disaster into the Atabad Lake Opportunity!

I salute to pragmatists like Ustod Qiblan, Bech Ghlomziz, Bech Sraju, Bech Shabon, Bech Navo, Bech Mirbig, Bech Doy, Lol Sarwar, Lol Beroz, Bech Hafeez, Bech Sno, Voch Lola, Voch Dursulton, Voch Soatbakht, Khuy Ayesha, Lol Rauf, Lol Midlo, Lol Nisimlo, Lol Armon, Lol Qurbon, Lol Skandar Mirzo, Lol Mirbonkrim, Lol Didorkrim, Khaserz Dodkrim, Khaserz Saeed, Mormor Farmanli, Mormor Amin, Mormor Mrodsho, Mormor Salmonziz, Mormor Bibali, Zaqyor Safa, Khiryan Fido and Jamati Afsarjon.

Arbob Ramat is a survivalist from Rawalpindi to Gulmit; he's shed the gozgloom and his eyes give the same friendly smile!

Poet Bulbul has made a poeticadjustment in his new habitat, Chamangul, after losing his ancestral house in Mangshe; and so did Dakter Miramad, Lol Shobdin, Lol Alaudin and other brave women and men.

Mormor Ayaz and Mormor Sidjon hover between Goz and Mangshe while havering, as if two pilgrims in an unending desert; they too will recover from the pain of lostlove!

----+----

November 29, 2023.

28/11/2023

Gulmit

(Part 4: Leisureclubs)

By Habib Sulemani

The commercial center lay stretched between the Gulmit Pologround and Karakoram Highway;

Unlike today, most of the enterprises were around the pologround, as if doing business was also a ballgame to be played on foot and horseback!

The dozen or so salesoutlets did less business but worked as leisureclubs for likeminded men during cloudy winters when the village wore a shroud of snow and appeared dead.

The unjust sitting arrangement at a typical outlet, often a woden bench with capacity for four men, left schoolboys standing near-and-outside the wooden door;

The outsideboys peeked inside over the shoulders of insideboys, bearing the cold to enjoy gossips of men on any topic beneath glaciers and above mountains!

Due to snowcovered land, there was no space for boys of the patriarchalsociety to play, as most of males remained busy in outdooractivities;

There was no television to watch, no magazine or newspaper to read, no book to study; nothing from the civilizedworld was available to keep the children of illiterateparents busy and entertained;

(Television broadcast became possible only with the arrival of satellitechannels in the lastpart of the lastcentury; daily newspapers still reach the mountainlocked region after a day or two.)

The tiny Gulmit Library opened in the evenings, and its activemembers were only some bookish schoolkids, other boys couldn't and didn't read even their schoolbooks;

Radio broadcast was the only intellectualconnection with the civilizedworld, but radiosets were limited to those houses which could afford buying batteries as there was no electricity.

(Electricity came to the hamlet towards the end of the lastcentury, and is available only for some hours of the day even in this newcentury.)

The gossiping of men included stories of peasanthood, shepherdhood, employment, retailing and socialissues, especially the "disobedient" new generation!

Those men, who'd seen cities, mainly Karachi, and those who'd radiosets and were hooked on BBC Urduservice, talked about regional, national and international politics;

And those men, who were addicted to the Indianradio program, Tamil-e-Irshad, they often murmured famous Urdu-Hindi songs of Rafi and Lata!

Sometimes, some men at one outlet also shared stories of sexualencounters in rural and urban areas... but before that adultsession, the youngsters were thrust out.

Even then some stubborn alphaboys eavesdropped on the narrators of sexstories...

When the eavesdropping alphaboys retold the heard tales of heterosexual encounters, homosexual anecdotes, zoophilic yarns, paraphilic mountainmyths and urbanlegends to other boys in their peergroups, it left the youngminds puzzled!

Consequently, the puzzlement led to psychological and physical imbalances in some youngadults...

To make a sense of the strange sexstories, some puzzledboys crossed the wall between youngadulthood and adulthood earlier than others;

Some fell victim to hormonal imbalances;

Some begged their parents to get them wives;

And testosterone drove others to do experimentations with fellow humans and nonhumananimals!

In this way, life used to take birth in the dark and got nourishment from tenebrosity in the preVCR and preinternet era!

------

November 28, 2023.

27/11/2023

Gulmit

(Part 3: Merciful Peasanthood & Merciless Business)

By Habib Sulemani

I lived in Gulmit from birth to seventhgrade, and can recall things from as early as two years of age!

Before going to school, wherever my father, Ta, went, particularly shops and eateries, I followed him like a puppy.

(And I was a lucky, beloved and keenobserver puppy—that's why I evolved into a prudent watchdog!)

I won't forget the love of Bech Tolibsher, who'd fed me like his own toddler, as he'd the first eatery in the poststate Gulmit.

(Alas, he died in the Unitedstates of America, and his American children are "reluctant" to visit the Islamic Republic of Pakistan.)

I won't forget the affectionately smiling redface of Pup Sifatsho, who'd shown me his commercial kaleidoscope in free, and had taken no money for the chaiparatha I'd eaten during the thirty-minute-schoolrecess at his eatery.

(He'd started that eatery in the Gulmit Oldhouse, currently one of the two shabby museums that need investment for rebuilding and maintenance!)

I won't forget the two cups of tea Pup Molodod had offered me and Mabobziz in free at his shop-cum-teastall.

I remember the eatery of Pup Maston where Pup Dilnazar and Bech Zambur entertained onlookers while bickering with each other.

The shop of Bech Dod became a Shakespearean theatre when Bech Hukmatnazar and Bech Mumdrim joined the shopkeeper in staging a Wakhi comedy.

The razek of Bech Mlosingov's shop worked as a place for sunbathing while playing ludo and other strategy boardgames in snowy winters when temperature went lower than minus-thirtytwo degrees celsius;

Pup Majnunby, Pup Yosufbig, Pup Qozi, Pup Urfi and Pup Sultonbig were senior members of the famous Goz Ludo Team;

However, when Pup Rustambig, Bech Shabon, Bech Madebdul and Bech Mlosingov played ludo (amidst Pup Rustambig's cry of "cheen"), a dozen people cheerled volunteerly.

I recall how happy Bech Sherali felt when the cheerful Bech Zizdin entered his roadside tailoringshop.

Still I see Bech Synmamad, sitting in his small shop soberly, chainsmoking the K2 brand cigarette and coughing continuously.

(He died long ago but his sweettalking wife, Voch Shower, is still active in her new habitat on Qeer plateau as her Goz house had submerged in the Atabad Lake.)

I can recall the broken backwall of Pup Abdulrayim's shop when burglars had taken away almost everything.

(The shopkeeper was a retired soldier and the
burglars were identified as serving soldiers from the Pakistanarmy Corps of Engineers.)

Bech Lifatsho had handed over his lifelong shop to his son, Ulfatkrim, whom Covid19 untimely sent to grave in 2020.

Now, Bech Lifatsho's classic gulmitik shop is history along the shops of Pup Ghulum, Pup Rustambig, Bech Boshi, Bech Guliston, Bech Tilobig, Bech Afyobig, Bech Dod, Bech Madebdul, Bech Madadsho, Bech Lifbig, Bech Sunlo, Bech Liramat, Pup Lolo, Bech Rizmomad, Mormor Hamid, Pup Jimidlo, Bech Nazarbig, Bech Sraju, Lol Hidarghlom, Lol Hofiz, Bech Dolatnazar, Bech Ghlomziz, Bech Rabkhon, Bech Rafi, Bech Murwat, Bech Sherali Dalgiramic, Bech Mirlo, Ta Silimon and others...

These lost business outlets were small and informal mudstructures which couldn't mature into formal departmentstores, shoppingmalls, pedestrianpromenades and restaurants...

Why did the old commercial enterprises failed, and the existing ones are in danger?

Poetry can't explain this mountaindilemma exactly!

No, not at all.

Even evocative literaryprose would fail to elaborate it!

Nonetheless, when I made a potpourri of journalism, literature and sociology-of-economics, I felt:

The earliest inhabitants were nomadic shepherds, as were most of the Wakhispeaking Gojalis; they started peasanthood after settling down in Gulmit;

The shepherds took a lot of time and made tiresome efforts to change their nomadic mindset as peasantry demanded of them;

But, even after becoming peasants, they couldn't turn their back on shepherdhood, and continued keeping livestock, thus turning into mountain-peasant-shepherds.

(Peasanthood became a parttime job while shepherdhood was treated as the "prophetic" fulltime occupation.)

When formal businesses started in the barterland, some of the peasantshepherds also became shopkeepers, restauranters and hoteliers.

(Still they treated business as a parttime job, and considered peasanthood and shepherdhood their natural occupations!)

After the fall of Hunza State in 1974, doors of employment in public and private sectors opened for people but, even after becoming employees, still they treated peasanthood and shepherdhood their actual employment.

(Sadly, this attitude continues even in this third decade of the twentyfirst century.)

If gulmitiks don't get rid of their irresponsible peasantry mindset and businesses continue falling apart, than what lies ahead?

More poverty and ignorance along glamorous degrees from brotheluniversities!

But, I think, things will improve gradually...

It'll take more time to transform the peasantmindset into businessmindset.

(Sociology will dictate genetics!)

Modern business in Gulmit started with shopkeeping, and a shop is the first door to enter the world called: freemarket economy.

So, shopkeeping is comparatively a new profession in this rural mountainius region where even surviving the four seasons of a year is a great miracle in the current pathetic conditions when people lack even basic facilities of life.

(Humans and nonhumananimals have either no rights, or equalrights!)

The hinterlanders are as simple as are their grown crops and as innocent as are their herds of sheep!

Farming rural people take time to become clever entrepreneurs!

The first shop had been opened by no one else but the last ruler of the erstwhile princelystate;

That governmentrun shop failed in the same way as communism had failed in the erstwhile Sovietunion;

Nevertheless, it laid foundation for freemarket economy in the community of peasants and shepherds who lived by barter.

The salesman of the first publicsector shop had miraculously emerged as the first retailer in the privatesector!

Bech Odina built the first twostoried primitive form of a shoppingmall about half-a-century ago when he emerged as the First Wakhi Millionaire.

His Lakhpati Bungalow had two shops on the groundfloor and a couple of rooms above it;

Alas, instead of turning into a shoppingplaza, this historic woodstone building is now going to kiss the dust!

---++++---

November 27, 2023.

25/11/2023

With due respect, I don't agree with you, Comma Queen. If you ask me: Why? The answer can be a book! 🙏📚🌐

First, I respect your faith in the ancient editorialism in modern journalism!

Second, I reject the outdated stylebooks in English language. I can write a whole new book on the use of punctuations in the age of multimedia...

Remember, we're living in the digitalage!

✍️📚🖥️🌐

▶️ Watch this reel
https://www.facebook.com/share/r/kdLoL6Gwx5Wm6VUB/?mibextid=D5vuiz

23/11/2023

Gulmit

(Part 2: Gulmit Pologround)

By Habib Sulemani

After my gapdecades, when I entered Gulmit for the first time, I felt myself in a gorge where no one knows those people with whom Gulmit used to identify itself, and for whom Gulmit was the center of the universe!

The caring gulmitiks, belonging to the Greatest Generation, have gone somewhere; even most of their Baby Boomer children have disappeared, and their grandchildren's Generation X seems an endangered species...

Where did the old gulmitiks go?

Maybe the millennials and their children millenarians expelled them from the town for being outdated in this Firstcentury of the Thirdmillennium...

The cream of Gulmit lived around the Shawarn, which was a famous pologround and face of the town.

Some of those people weren't just the bigwigs of Gojal and identities of Hunza Valley, but also national heroes...

In the afternoons, men appeared in the pologround from different streets.

(These Tingigh streets worked like tributaries of the Indus, bringing people to the Razek Parliament where they gossipped on every subject that interested the community of peasants and shepherds.)

Bech Odina and Bech Masnavi would enter the pologround from the northwest street, Bech Dod and Bech Solim would come from the northeast street;

(Sitting outside her house, Moom Fida would receive them with an affectionate smile and speak to them sweetly in Burushaski, as if she was a receptionist of the Shawarn.)

Bech Qomatlo and Bech Rahimsho would pop up from the inner-northeast-street while Arbob Lawat and Voch Kanik would appear from the inner-northwest-street;

(Voch Yonbigim would scan them from her rooftop as if in search of a metrical pattern to compose poetry.)

Bech Bodurkhon and Arbob Guliston would arise from the mideast street while Bech Ghlomdin and Pup Ponshimbi would arrive to the pologround from the midwest street;

(Moom Feroza would observe them from the roof of the Gulmit Museum as if an official recordkeeper.)

Bech Shogul and Bech Lijon would come from the southeast street while Bech Shokhon would make an appearance along with his bulldog from the southwest side of his house-cum-hotel;

(Moom Bigum would talk to them on trivia in her highpitched Burushaski.)

And Arbob Sadun, wearing his gray cap and gown, would enter the pologround from the Gulmitgate in the south, to head meetings of villagers as the chief of headmen.

Now, none of these people canbe seen around; they along many other typical characters have vanished even from the collective gulmitik memory.

But I still remember characters of some lost characters:

Moom Momo was known for her curses to bullies, but sometimes her own behavior became a sort of bullying;

Moom Karuso was a brave Burusho lady who'd lost her only son on the Indian border but kept talking to his framed photograph till her own death; her properties were distributed among the relatives of her Wakhi husband, but where did the photograph of Monkhoja, the forgotten soldier, go, I don't know;

Pup Libuy was an influential blunt man who'd rejected a gift from the last Mir of Hunza, considering it a royalbribe to gain support for the falling kingdom;

Pup Rizsho was a smilingman who heard nothing bad and spoke less, consequently, quarrelers of the village considered deafness a blessing;

Voch Chanbibi was a Balti child whose parents had disappeared during the War of Liberation in Baltistan; she was raised in Gulmit and got married to a gulmitik; showing her Balti resilience, she raised three children, including a law enforcement officer, after the brutal murder of her husband, Maqbool;

Ustod Samarqand was a teacher of teachers with an image of executioner amongst pupils as he imposed a strict personal hygiene regime in the society of peasants and shepherds who were raised in the sroyculture and didn't know what a bathroom really was;

Ustod Ibodat was known for being a kindhearted teacher in the age of corporal punishment at the Gulmit Boys High School;

Ustod Bynazar was a physicaltraining teacher whose lessons worked well for me during the covid lockdown;

Ustod Ojoyib was a friendly teacher who equally joked with his students and their fathers;

Ustod Ramatali used to practice writing on a notepad after teaching the class; I'd seen him crying in the back of the governmentrun school on the day when General Zia executed Primeminister Z A Bhutto;

Ustod Mirlo was a smiling teacher with special interest in Urdu calligraphy;

Ustod Ghlombig was an audacious teacher and devoted musician;

Pup Shikh was a lifelong caretaker of the first formal Ismaili jamatkhana, built in the mid of the last century;

Pup Ghulum was a carpenter and shopkeeper who added clergyship to his professions by taking over as the first Mukhi from one of the last Ismaili caliphs, Pup Bonay;

Pup Molodod was one of the key shopkeepers;

Bech Boshi was a famous shopkeeper;

Mormor Hamid was a shopkeeper although he should have been a moviestar due to his good looks;

Bech Zafar was the Desi Orthopedic Surgeon;

Pup Shamol was an oralhistorian;

Pup Roy was a famous mason and carpenter who also performed circumcisions;

Bech Bori was a silentwitness to historical events in the former Hunza State, Gilgitbaltistan and Kashmir; he'd become the first hotelier of Gulmit;

Bech Mudbig was an orator and veteran of the Liberation War of Gilgitbaltistan;

Bech Shozun was a freedomfighter but he acted as a polite private citizen;

Bech Monlo had an angelic smile which would show path to gloomyfaces in pitchdark nights;

There're many poetic characters, like Moom Bibisa, whose books exist in no library, because none of their poems could get written!

(Alas, hundreds of unwritten Wakhi poems got lost, like the oral Punjabi poetry of Ustad Hamdam, Ustad Gam, Ustad Fazal, Ustad Moula Buksh and other Akhara Poets of Lahore who'd groomed Ustad Daman as the Poet of Freedom!)

Now, there's an indoctrinated digital generation which doesn't care for ancient characters and literature.

In the age of socialmedia, I'm connected to the world, but feel like a foreigner in Gulmit!

"Where're the old gulmitiks," I asked a bearded youngman who looked the mashup of an ancient hippie and modern Taliban!

He stared at me in a way as if I was an alien from some other planet...

"I don't know those people you've just named," he replied, coldly and started climbing the haphazard Ondra stairs haphazardly.

Luckily, an oldface recognized me, outside the nowdead Gulmit Library, and said: "The old residents have become permanent citizens of the otherworld!"

While writing this prosaic poem, I wonder: Wherever the old gulmitiks are, would they really rest in peace without their beloved Gulmit!?

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