The presence of the Aga Khan is felt everywhere

Hunza, a Shangri-la in the heart of Karakoram

From correspondents in Asia Pacific, 11:02 AM IST

As another spring approaches I remember that last spring a friend posted in Islamabad invited me to travel with her to Hunza, that fabled mountain kingdom of yore right at the heart of the Karakoram. I got my visa from the Pakistani high commission in New Delhi within 24 hours, maybe because I am a German national, maybe because Pakistan suffers from a dearth of tourists.

From Islamabad we flew to Gilgit. The flight proved a show by itself as the plane moved at close distance above and between the flanks of Nanga Parbat. Spellbound, we stared at domes and spires of snow and ice, which a divine confectioner seemed to have concocted out of masses of heavenly cr�me and meringue.

At Gilgit airport a jeep with driver Daulat at the wheel awaited us. After crossing a suspension bridge over the turquoise waters of the river Gilgit, we moved along its banks. At the opposite side we spied the old caravan route which Alexander the Great used on his military expeditions. It is etched into the rock faces and leads up to Sinkiang.

We continued our journey amongst terraced fields, snow-peaked mountains and poplar trees. About six hours and 103 km later we meandered up to Karimabad, a small township nestling at an altitude of about 3,000 metres. Karimabad served under its old name Baltit as capital of the principality of Hunza.

It was renamed in honour of Karim Aga Khan, the highly revered spiritual leader of the Ismailis. The Hunzkuts, as the local people are called, are his followers.

Aga Khan schools, hospitals, training institutes, and community halls abound. In fact, the presence of the Aga Khan is felt everywhere. Once a week all Hunzkuts assemble in community halls and listen to taped messages, in which he guides them into modernity by encouraging them to learn computer skills and English, besides adhering to the tenets of the Quran.

During our walks we were joyously greeted by children and adults alike who were only too keen to practise their English with us. Strangely, their native language was not related to Urdu but to Basque, a language that is spoken only in the western Pyrenees of France and Spain and not known to be related to any other language.

Today’s Hunzkuts are an apple-cheeked lot who smile into the world out of blue eyes. Their unusual eye colour is due to the fact that they are the descendents of soldiers of Alexander the Great who refused to march on and settled down in this mountain and glacial Shangri-La, which for about 1,500 years remained almost totally isolated from the rest of the world.

From our hotel we looked down into terraced fields dotted with blooming apple and peach trees and the river Hunza shimmering in between. Opposite, the Baltit Fort clung to a rock face. It served for over 600 years as the home and headquarters of the Mirs of Hunza, who were constantly battling with the neighbouring rulers over taxes extracted from trading caravans, which, on their way from and to China, passed through their territories.

At the Baltit Fort we had a look at the fabled gun which, a few hundred years ago, an itinerant Chinese gunsmith had fashioned out of bronze and copper pots for the Mir of Hunza – only to be decapitated, because the Mir wanted to make sure that the crafty craftsman could not build a similar weapon for his arch-rival, the Mir of Nagar.

The Hunzkuts are known for their longevity. Their good health is attributed to a frugal diet of dry fruits (mainly apricots), glacier water and local bread as there is acute food shortage in spring. Their mountain guides are popular because they never suffer from high-altitude disease.

My friend and I were surprised at the friendliness of the people. Boys and girls went to school. Women were unveiled and interacted freely. To us it was obvious that the Hunzkuts were not ruled by any Ayatollah, but the Aga Khan – at least spiritually.

(Roswitha Joshi is a German author based in India)

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