Kabul… Dangerous yet Rocking.
Have you ever lived under the shadow of death… imagining if the person approaching … pulls the trigger, or worse presses a button… and then everything goes blank, forever. Or if you hear a huge sound… and the next thing you remember is floating in air at an unimaginable speed along with a detonation wave… hoping that even in that turmoil you remember the basic drill of leaving your body totally loose… and slightly opening your mouth… and hoping that you land up softly.
No it’s not traumatic… it’s dramatic... for… with every step you take, you look for a place to duck and an alley to run… you look for any suspicious action on part of the person approaching… you look for a car at a furious pace with only one occupant, and the direction it is headed for… you look for tiny hints, which can differentiate between life and death..
Yesterday, there was an attack on a UN Guest House… it killed 6 UN staffers. A few days ago… there was another attack on the Indian Embassy… every incident is as old as the next incident… it galvanizes public memory… distaste for a few days … or sometimes for few hours… till it is dissipated in wake of another incident. UN Guest House attack, for instance… was quickly forgotten in the cacophony of a bigger attack in Peshawar…
Sanity and empathy is a commodity these days and in this part of the world… pulled and pushed by… demands and supplies… scarcity and abundances… favorites and disfavored.
I visited Kabul this time; when it was reeling under a severe security threat… so severe that I was advised to hole up in my hotel room for all the three days of my visit. I thought what is worse… a push of a button or a bolt in the door… perhaps both are equally worse… depending on what you seek from life… or from death.
The flight was ordinary… but I had to wait for 1 hour at UN terminal for my secured vehicle to arrive… I told my friend… I can stay away from heaven… but don’t like being kept waiting for 1 hour at heaven’s doors.
Heaven… is it… Kabul has been described as heavenly by Babur in his memoirs… it had been a melting pot for Muslim travelers and conquestors… from Persia… from Samarkand… from Turkey… in the yesteryears… they all vouched for the clean waters… fresh airs… cool climes… and relaxed disposition of this momentous city… today it’s a pale shadow… getting paler day by day… and yet there is something… some wee bit… left somewhere… to make you call it is heaven.
For a weary traveler from Kandahar… it is not only heaven but also heavenly… it makes you feel a pulse within yourself… a pulse that was all but lost in the medieval values… outdated ideologies.
On the first night, I yet again went to Anaar the Indian restaurant… with its relaxed atmosphere and good food… it would always remain my favourite… you just sit on its comfortable couches… and while your time away… as if there is eternity to savor… the waiters don’t bother you… and they bring baskets after baskets of Diltod Papad (the name I gave to the magical, though simple, crispy papads of the place)
While in hotel (yet again Park)… at midnight… my world started shaking… it took me a while to realize that I was facing a massive earthquake…for the first time I saw the fury of an earthquake… 6.1… epicentered in Pak-Afghan border middling Jalalabad and Peshawar… though luckily, the tectonic plates moved 150 kilometers beneath the earth… thus causing no major damage… God, it seems, comes with an extreme sense for irony… he saves us from an earthquake in an area, where his subjects bay for each others blood, otherwise.
The next day… had a sumptuous brunch of Chhole Bhature at a friends’ place… missing a “sponsored” Italian Lunch by a few whiskers… I moved around… searching for a perhaps non-existent Kabul Coffee House… purchased a number of DVDs to accompany my soliloquy in Kandahar… I, for one, would mind dying without seeing the latest blockbusters from Bollywood. Hahaha!
In the evening, I went to a Lebanese Restaurant Taverna… the place is absolutely fantastic… the atmosphere… it appears that you are in some relaxed Greek Mezze Tavern… with soulful of music… with relaxed pace of dinner… with an evening ahead to relax, relish and enjoy…. The place served Lebanese and Egyptian delicacies… and my favourite Tahina sauce… Give me a loaf of bread and it, toss in a few pickled olives … it’s a life well spent.
The next day I spent in going around the town… having a wonderful lunch at a friends place… going to a treasure trove called Bagram Stores… which sells astounding collection of adventure gears… jackets, sleeping bags, rug sacks, camping gears, knifes, compasses etc. I promised I will come back with loads of greenbacks…
The evening, thereafter, was quiet and lonely… I chose it that way… this time missing an invite to gate-crash into an all-girls Pajama party by more than a few whiskers… I had a wonderful dinner at Park… while having it… I was approached by an elderly gentleman… if he could join me on my table… it was serendipity… the man called John Butt… was a Cambridge scholar… a Muslim… a preacher of tolerant version of Islam… he runs a community radio in Peshawar… though ethnic English… he had lived his entire life, well almost, in South Asia… in Deoband… in Peshawar… in Jalalabad… we talked about Deoband, Sufism, Maulana Wahideen, about Peshawar and its turmoil… about Taliban and its ideologies… it was an hour or two… of revelations and enlightenment. He looks forward to establish an Islamic University in Jalalabad… I am Serendipity’s favorite child, perhaps…
The flight next day was more or less uneventful… perhaps portending the life to come in Kandahar… I flew over the Hindu Kush… barren… some days later they would be capped by snow... the weather would change… would the destinies???
I often wonder…
No it’s not traumatic… it’s dramatic... for… with every step you take, you look for a place to duck and an alley to run… you look for any suspicious action on part of the person approaching… you look for a car at a furious pace with only one occupant, and the direction it is headed for… you look for tiny hints, which can differentiate between life and death..
Yesterday, there was an attack on a UN Guest House… it killed 6 UN staffers. A few days ago… there was another attack on the Indian Embassy… every incident is as old as the next incident… it galvanizes public memory… distaste for a few days … or sometimes for few hours… till it is dissipated in wake of another incident. UN Guest House attack, for instance… was quickly forgotten in the cacophony of a bigger attack in Peshawar…
Sanity and empathy is a commodity these days and in this part of the world… pulled and pushed by… demands and supplies… scarcity and abundances… favorites and disfavored.
I visited Kabul this time; when it was reeling under a severe security threat… so severe that I was advised to hole up in my hotel room for all the three days of my visit. I thought what is worse… a push of a button or a bolt in the door… perhaps both are equally worse… depending on what you seek from life… or from death.
The flight was ordinary… but I had to wait for 1 hour at UN terminal for my secured vehicle to arrive… I told my friend… I can stay away from heaven… but don’t like being kept waiting for 1 hour at heaven’s doors.
Heaven… is it… Kabul has been described as heavenly by Babur in his memoirs… it had been a melting pot for Muslim travelers and conquestors… from Persia… from Samarkand… from Turkey… in the yesteryears… they all vouched for the clean waters… fresh airs… cool climes… and relaxed disposition of this momentous city… today it’s a pale shadow… getting paler day by day… and yet there is something… some wee bit… left somewhere… to make you call it is heaven.
For a weary traveler from Kandahar… it is not only heaven but also heavenly… it makes you feel a pulse within yourself… a pulse that was all but lost in the medieval values… outdated ideologies.
On the first night, I yet again went to Anaar the Indian restaurant… with its relaxed atmosphere and good food… it would always remain my favourite… you just sit on its comfortable couches… and while your time away… as if there is eternity to savor… the waiters don’t bother you… and they bring baskets after baskets of Diltod Papad (the name I gave to the magical, though simple, crispy papads of the place)
While in hotel (yet again Park)… at midnight… my world started shaking… it took me a while to realize that I was facing a massive earthquake…for the first time I saw the fury of an earthquake… 6.1… epicentered in Pak-Afghan border middling Jalalabad and Peshawar… though luckily, the tectonic plates moved 150 kilometers beneath the earth… thus causing no major damage… God, it seems, comes with an extreme sense for irony… he saves us from an earthquake in an area, where his subjects bay for each others blood, otherwise.
The next day… had a sumptuous brunch of Chhole Bhature at a friends’ place… missing a “sponsored” Italian Lunch by a few whiskers… I moved around… searching for a perhaps non-existent Kabul Coffee House… purchased a number of DVDs to accompany my soliloquy in Kandahar… I, for one, would mind dying without seeing the latest blockbusters from Bollywood. Hahaha!
In the evening, I went to a Lebanese Restaurant Taverna… the place is absolutely fantastic… the atmosphere… it appears that you are in some relaxed Greek Mezze Tavern… with soulful of music… with relaxed pace of dinner… with an evening ahead to relax, relish and enjoy…. The place served Lebanese and Egyptian delicacies… and my favourite Tahina sauce… Give me a loaf of bread and it, toss in a few pickled olives … it’s a life well spent.
The next day I spent in going around the town… having a wonderful lunch at a friends place… going to a treasure trove called Bagram Stores… which sells astounding collection of adventure gears… jackets, sleeping bags, rug sacks, camping gears, knifes, compasses etc. I promised I will come back with loads of greenbacks…
The evening, thereafter, was quiet and lonely… I chose it that way… this time missing an invite to gate-crash into an all-girls Pajama party by more than a few whiskers… I had a wonderful dinner at Park… while having it… I was approached by an elderly gentleman… if he could join me on my table… it was serendipity… the man called John Butt… was a Cambridge scholar… a Muslim… a preacher of tolerant version of Islam… he runs a community radio in Peshawar… though ethnic English… he had lived his entire life, well almost, in South Asia… in Deoband… in Peshawar… in Jalalabad… we talked about Deoband, Sufism, Maulana Wahideen, about Peshawar and its turmoil… about Taliban and its ideologies… it was an hour or two… of revelations and enlightenment. He looks forward to establish an Islamic University in Jalalabad… I am Serendipity’s favorite child, perhaps…
The flight next day was more or less uneventful… perhaps portending the life to come in Kandahar… I flew over the Hindu Kush… barren… some days later they would be capped by snow... the weather would change… would the destinies???
I often wonder…
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