In Khowar tradition, Spring is considered to be a difficult time. This is because in the past, the previous year’s store of grain would be depleting by that time of year and the livestock would be lean after the harsh winter. One of the highlights of Spring is that the otherwise barren and dusty Qaghlasht plateau in Upper Chitral between the Booni and the Mulkho valleys turns delightfully green. I decided to go have a look on the 1st of April.
It had been raining incessantly in Chitral from the middle of March onwards and the early Spring came to a halt as the cold grip of winter tightened once more. By the end of the month, strong westerly winds started to blow – which resulted in bright blue skies but a further drop in temperature. I decided to go see Qaghlasht and do some photography. It is quite early in the season and the grass is just starting to get greener but as access to the area is currently limited due to COVID precautions, I knew that it would be a prime time to see the plateau relatively empty. So I got permission from the relevant authorities and was on my way.
The name Qaghlasht has very interesting origins. It is uncertain whether the real name is Kaagh Lasht, meaning the plain of crows, or Qaq Lasht, dry plain. Both would make sense as there are often plenty of crows around on the plateau and from June onwards it is bone-dry with wind-borne dust being the primary feature. Thus I take the middle path and pronounce it Qaghlasht, combining sounds from both pronunciations. In the past decade Qaghlasht was the scene of a festival featuring polo, football and cricket matches alongside cultural performances.
This festival has its origins in the early 20th century when Chitral was a princely state and the Governors of the Three regions of Upper Chitral, which all converge on the plateau, would establish camps and make merry in the month of April. Today Qaghlasht is the locale for several legal issues. One is the dispute between the people of the aforementioned regions of Upper Chitral, Mulkho, Biyaar and Torkho as to which area it actually belongs to. And secondly a dispute between the people of the adjacent villages and the government. Under the Notification of 1975 – a black law if there ever were one – all land in Chitral which is un-irrigated belongs to the government, meaning 95% of the land! The people of Upper Chitral have bravely challenged this unfair piece of legislation and have claimed Qaghlasht.
Qaghlasht is an example of how tourism can have an adverse affect on natural landscapes
Thus on a fine April Fool’s Day morning, I drove up to Qaghlasht, about two hours away from Chitral Town, with my Merry Men. Shafiq Gujjar had obtained a fine young sheep which Islamuddin had already dispatched and marinated the previous evening. Just before climbing up the plateau I habitually stopped at the shrine of a Sufi mystic at Junalikoch. Despite it being an Ismaili shrine, my forefathers always stopped to offer supplications there and I continue the tradition whenever I am headed to Upper Chitral: sectarianism has no place in Chitrali culture. Upon reaching the plateau we did some offroading and photography before I chose a place in a nook between two hillocks which would provide some shelter from the wind and we lit the fire to start grilling.
One thing that is immediately clear upon visiting Qaghlasht is how damaging the effects of mass tourism can be. Despite the yearly festival being canceled for two years in a row and the area being closed off for tourism for two consecutive Springs, there was still quite a bit of plastic and other refuse lying around from years gone by. Another odd thing is the presence of small holes dug throughout the plateaux to plant trees as part of the billion tree tsunami program. Qaghlasht is a waterless plain, it is a highland pasture and has never had any trees upon it. Although this may sound odd, some places are just not meant to have trees. Qaghlasht is one such place and if just a quarter of the resources which had been allocated to plant all those – now dried up – saplings had been spent on cleaning up the plateau after each festival, an actual positive environmental impact could have been achieved.
After a walk around, I returned to see Faraz eating some very rare lamb tikkas straight off the grill and knew that the meat was still not done to my liking. Soon enough the meat was done to perfection and served up with chicken palao. A fine meal indeed, in such picturesque surroundings. After the succulent lamb tikkas, I enquired about the green tea and found out that they had forgotten to bring tea leaves and a kettle, so I had to make do with Mountain Dew. Then it was time to depart for Chitral.
The grass upon the plateau had only started to turn the plains into the vast emerald lake it becomes in the end of April and into May, but it was great to see it empty – with the exception of vehicles on their way to Torkho and Mulkho and flocks of livestock. The backdrop of the remaining winter snows upon the higher peaks contrasting with the green grass is what makes it aesthetically appealing and one has to find the right balance of the two as the grass only gets greener when the snows diminish, so timing a visit is key. Qaghlasht is an example of how tourism can have an adverse affect on natural landscapes. When the world returns to some semblance of post pandemic normalcy and larger gatherings can resume, I think the Qaghlasht Festival should be limited in nature with only polo and cultural activities taking place for a shorter duration.
Qaghlasht in Spring is a magical place and we must ensure that remains so.
The author is the ceremonial Mehtar
of Chitral and can be contacted on
Twitter: @FatehMulk