The Hindu Business Line : Journey to Bamiyan

THE historic city of Bamiyan, located in a breathtakingly beautiful valley, amidst the tall cliffs and smooth, undulating mountains of Central Afghanistan, shook the conscience of the entire world four years ago.

In March 2001, the Taliban indulged in deliberate vandalism, destroying the giant Buddhas dating back to the fourth and fifth centuries — the bigger one 55 metres tall and the smaller one about 35 metres. Reportedly, this was their way of protesting against the sanctions imposed on their regime by the international community.

First of all, to reach Bamiyan by road involves an 11-hour back-breaking journey. The other option is to take a flight, which has to be booked well in advance; the UN, of course, has its own flights.

When one naively asked how far Bamiyan is from Kabul, Olivier Guillaume, Councillor for Co-operation at the French Embassy in Kabul, says with a smile: "In Afghanistan, we never talk in terms of distance; we always ask how many hours it will take to reach any place." You soon discover the wisdom of this statement. Bamiyan is about 250 km from Kabul but after about 60 km or so, our Toyota HiAce and its occupants have to brace themselves for a ride on a road which has no tar topping for the rest of the distance.

In nearly three decades of war, as well as four years of supposed peace — after the Taliban regime fell under the onslaught of the allied forces' might in November 2001 — apparently, milestones or any indication of the nearest town have been the last thing on anybody's agenda. After a couple of hours one even stops looking for any signposts or milestones.

Our driver Hussain Dhat has no idea about the distance. "They say it takes about 11 hours," he murmurs vaguely. After driving on an apology of a road, which constantly challenges him with boulders and potholes, not to mention the tiny brooks formed from melting snow that occasionally criss-cross the path for five hours, he stops the vehicle and throws up his hands. "I never imagined the road to be so bad," sighs the good-natured man.

Even though we had an early start at 7.15 a.m., it was past 1 p.m. and we had no idea how far our destination is. Most of the vehicles we encountered on the way belonged to the UN and were the typical, sturdy Toyota Landcruisers that can negotiate the treacherous terrain much better. Frustratingly, all that one can see along the way are boards proclaiming projects undertaken by Japan, Germany, and others.

The relief comes from the picturesque landscape and the greenery of early spring, helped by an unusually good rainfall, which has brought much cheer and hope of a good wheat crop. The flowing waters of the river that keeps us company most of the way, and the breathtakingly beautiful, even though stark, mountain ranges, take the sting out of the uncertainty of distance and time.

On the most inhospitable of roads, there are amazingly hospitable chaikhanas with friendly people and smiling children.

The status of their country and their poverty notwithstanding, there is no attempt to fleece foreigners. On the contrary, they are keen to know one's nationality and extend the typical greeting in Islamic countries — hand held across the heart.

After several promises of Bamiyan being "just an hour away," we finally reach the city around 6.15 p.m. "Roof of the Bamiyan" is supposed to be the "best hotel," and though priced at a steep $60 (Rs 2,500), all it has to offer are rooms with just a bed and clean sheets and nothing more. Attached bathrooms did you ask? Forget it; there are two toilets outside for 16 room occupants, but one is grateful enough for making it to a roof over one's head before sundown.

The city has no electricity, and a generator provides you with a few hours of power in the evening. To justify the steep room tariff, the hotel's owner, Sher Khan, who is from Logar, about 130 km from Kabul, boasts that "land prices in Bamiyan are more expensive than even in the US; I offered my landlord $500,000 for this piece of land, but he refuses to sell it to me."

Chennai businessman Karthik Narayanan, the lone male member of our group, is in an expansive mood to forgive Khan for his fleecing ways. "Please remember, he has to look after two wives (one in Australia and the other in Afghanistan) and 10 children." But, the dinner Khan serves in the common dining hall — all the occupants are foreigners and most are working for NGOs — is better than one had expected, even though it comes with a separate price tag of $10. The journey has knocked us out totally, making us oblivious to the heavy rain that pounds Bamiyan through the night, making its streets huge pools of slush the next morning.

(To be concluded)

Response may be sent to rasheeda@thehindu.co.in

Article E-Mail :: Comment :: Syndication :: Printer Friendly Page

Stories in this Section
You can only milk a cow so long

Journey to Bamiyan