The Hindu Business Line : The lone Sardar of Bamiyan

IN the dusty and decrepit streets made slushy by a continuous non-seasonal downpour, in the historic town of Bamiyan, north west of Kabul, there is little to do once you've surveyed the huge cliff where the massive Buddhas once stood in all their splendour.

Our plans to go to the Band-e-Amir lakes, a good four-hour drive from Bamiyan, and at a height of 2,590 metres had to be abandoned because of nasty weather, so we decided to look at the quaint little shops in the town.

As we were constantly cribbing about our miserable hotel room, our driver Hussain Dhat, who was very angry with the hotel owner for charging us $60 a night - minus even breakfast - for the terrible accommodation, volunteered to show us some more options.

Though cheaper, they were even more miserable and had to be politely turned down. But the quest for better accommodation took us to the shop of Chandu Singh, the only Sardar resident in the entire town.

He runs a Unani medicine store and his little shop is well stocked with Unani medicine from both India and Pakistan. Having heard about and seen Indian medical teams working in Afghanistan, and witnessing the tremendous faith and respect the Afghans have for both Indian education and health care, it was not surprising to find that Chandu enjoys good patronage from the local people.

In a country whose economy has been so battered that the average wage in Kabul is not more than $60 (about 2,800 Afghani) even for qualified teachers, it was surprising to find that Chandu casually makes about 8,000 to 9,000 Afghani a month, which is considered quite a princely sum. The local people trust his medicines when it comes to fever, cold and cough, and all kinds of aches and pains.

But the living conditions in Bamiyan are so difficult and education opportunities so minimal, that Chandu's family - wife and three children - stays in Kabul. "I get along very well with the local Hazara people who are warm and kind," says Chandu, who uses his little store as his home. "I sleep here, cook here and even do my ibaadat (prayers) in this shop," says the young Sardar.

However, during the Taliban era he had to shut shop and go away to Kabul. A little puzzled when we kept asking him where he originally comes from, Chandu said, "I come from here; this is my country. My forefathers came here 2,050 years ago." But he did admit that during the last decade when Afghanistan was rocked by war and violence, many Sardars, particularly from Kabul, went away to India. "But we stayed in Kabul, as this is our country... actually I've never been to India. But I do have plans to go there to visit the Golden Temple," he said.

He returned to Bamiyan about a year ago, but during the harsh winter months, when the road to Bamiyan is closed for three months as the region is under a heavy blanket of snow, he goes to Kabul to stay with his family. "I go in a Toyota van and the 250-km journey costs me 350 Afghani." Considering that we were paying $100 a day for our Toyota HiAce - minus the diesel, which in Afghanistan costs 26 Afghania a litre, one Afghani more than petrol which is 25 Afghani a litre - one was sure that the van transporting him to Kabul would be packed with fellow customers!

On life during the Taliban era, he says, "They insisted that we should dress like them, which we did. But they never interfered with our religion." Somebody in Kabul said that many Afghans, to escape from the Taliban's crazy norms on long, flowing beards and harsh Islamic edicts "used to say they were Sardarjis!"

So does Chandu think his country is finally on the road to peace?

"I think so. Things are improving, even though slowly. But I already feel safe and secure enough to leave my wife and children in Kabul. Of course, my brothers live there," he adds.

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