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was dreaming; there is no doubt about that. Soaring above snowy mountains and drifting through fluffy clouds, I felt as free as a bird. The world below looked incredibly beautiful, calm and serene. I wished the dream would never end, so I wouldn’t have to wake up next to my study table, surrounded by piles of books and a mess of tangled cords from my electronic devices. But then, a gentle voice broke through, asking softly if I’d like a cold drink;some juice.
Come on, I told myself, this isn’t a dream. I looked at my watch, recalling a scene from the film Inception. To the gentle voice, I replied,“No, thank you.” I was not dreaming; I was, in fact, on a flight to Skardu, a city in Gilgit-Baltistan.
I had boarded the plane from Islamabad on a bright and sunny May morning. I could hardly believe it when I first heard the news: just ten days earlier, a journey to Skardu had not even been on the radar. And yet, here I was, soaring above 22,000 feet to one of my most beloved destinations on this planet. I have visited several countries, from Europe to the Middle East and Far East, but Skardu has always held the number one spot in my heart.
If someone were to ask me why, I might never be able to justify my choice or satisfy their curiosity. Of course,Skardu is unique in many ways. For me, it is a place where serenity meets the warmth of human emotions.
Landing at Skardu Airport always brings me a unique feeling. It’s a small airport, smaller, in fact, than a bus terminal in a major city. The main lounge feels more like the driveway of a large farmhouse. You can be out of the lounge in no time if you’re travelling with just cabin luggage.
As I made my way outside, the commentary from the PIA pilot about the peaks of the Karakoram, Hindukush and Himalayas was still fresh in my mind. It had only been a 45-minuteflight. Stepping out of the airport, I could immediately feel the freshness in the air and saw the usual crowd of drivers in non-custom-paid vehicles, ready to whisk tourists away to their destinations.
I had always preferred to stay away from downtown Skardu to avoid the bustle, though it’s hardly comparable to the chaos of larger cities. However, this time, I chose to stay in the hub. Greeted warmly by the hotel staff, I entered my room and, after setting down my luggage, was ready to head out again.
The sun was glowing on the snowy peaks; there were light-and-shadow patterns on the mountains.
There are countless beautiful, scenic sites to visit in Skardu; it’s a kind of place where you do not want to spend too much time indoors.
One of my local friends invited me to visit the University of Baltistan, which has recently relocated to a new site near the Sarfaranga desert, a remarkable area where sand dunes rise to an altitude of 7,500 feet. On the way to the campus, we passed through the city centre and crossed a newly constructed bridge. The site is secluded from the main city and overlooks the mighty Indus River, the historic Kharpocho Fort (built by King Ali Sher Khan Anchan in the late 16th Century) and the Nansoq Organic Village, a small settlement accessible only by a mountain track, previously visited by King Charles, then the Prince of Wales and her consort, the Duchess of Cornwall.
Although much of the university infrastructure is still under construction, I was struck by the vibrancy of the campus. The students, a majority of them women, radiated energy and purpose. It was heartening to hear that young women were encouraged to pursue higher education and actively supported by their families.
Imagine a university nestled in the wilderness of a desert, encircled by snow-capped peaks. It felt once again as if I were dreaming. But it was, in fact, reality. I found myself gazing through the window of a lecture hall, watching clouds drift over the mountains. Time passed quickly, and though I longed to stay longer, I asked my friend to move on; it was time to explore more.
After spending several hours in and around the university, we returned to our hotel, enjoyed a cup of tea in the beautiful garden and prepared to be amazed once again.
Looking at a signboard pointing towards Shigar in one direction and Khaplu in the other, we chose to head towards Shigar valley. I have visited the valley multiple times;every visit has revealed something new. After crossing a wooden bridge, I noticed a large catapult-style swing by the river, perfect for thrill-seekers. “Shigar: The Land of K2” was written on the ridge as we entered the valley. Near the Bab-i-Shigar (Gateway to Shigar), there was a flurry of activity. Tourists were enjoying various adventure rides, ponies, desert scooters, jeeps and para-gliders. The area buzzed with energy, as families and groups of friends relished the experience.
I’ve always loved the long, straight road leading into Shigar. I asked the driver to park the car so I could walk for a while. He hesitated, saying, “We’ll be late for Shigar valley.” I said, “Let’s spend the evening here; we can visit Shigar another time.”
The golden hour was approaching, and I wanted to witness the sunset from the road flanked by sand dunes, snow-clad mountains and glowing clouds. Leaving the crowds behind, I stepped into what felt like a dreamscape. I wished time would stop;at least slow down. A gentle breeze began to blow and the poplar trees swayed together. The sun lit up the snowy peaks, casting shifting shadows and patterns across the mountains. Clouds formed shapes and kissed the summits in the haze of soft light. It was magical; I could no longer tell whether I was dreaming or awake.
I was walking on the road to K2. I was in the company of mountains.
The Sarfaranga Desert has always mesmerised me. Today, it did so with greater intensity. I lost all track of time. The sun had set and I was alone on the road. Skardu, you now hold a place in my heart. A slight chill crept in as the air turned colder. Let’s go back, I thought. There are more places to explore, more dreamlands await.
The writer teachesengineering management at the NationalUniversity of Science and Technology. He can be reached at yasir299gmail.com