By Tehmina Ali
Over the years, I have noticed an interesting pattern in my interactions with colleagues and students in Islamabad and Rawalpindi.
Introducing myself as someone from Chitral almost always sparks the same conversation. The moment my urban peers, students or fellow faculty members discover that my roots belong to Chitral, their eyes light up with instant excitement, but their words quickly reveal a highly romanticized, static view of my home land.
They recall the region’s stunning landscapes, the colourful Kalash attire, or photographs they have admired on social media. Some even struggle to place Chitral on the map, assuming it as a remote district tucked away inside Gilgit-Baltistan.
While these reactions are well-intentioned, they reveal how Chitral is often reduced to a picturesque destination, an exotic postcard admired from afar rather than a vibrant region with an intricate civilization quietly carrying its own profound challenges that rarely make headlines.
This domestic blindspot became strikingly apparent during a recent professional exchange with Mr. Ghulam Abbas Chopa, a highly respected senior jurist within the Gilgit-Baltistan judiciary, known across Khaplu for his legal talent and strict impartiality.
Beyond his robes, Mr. Chopa is an elite mountaineer, hiker and veteran explorer who has spent his life charting the extreme wilderness of the north. He is celebrated as the co-discoverer of Khenpi Tso, the stunning Ghanche Lake that reflects K2 and the Karakoram’s greatest peaks—a pristine site where a glacier now bears his name as the “Chopa Glacier”. Mr. Chopa first traveled across Chitral as a young explorer in 2010.
Returning recently, over fifteen years later, he was shocked to find that the local infrastructure looked virtually unchanged. He described how, during a grueling ten-hour road journey into the district, his family could not find a single proper tourist motel, or a decent roadside spot for tea, only finding a meal upon reaching Chitral City. This infrastructural bottleneck is reflected in his observation of the tourist footprint: throughout that entire drive, they encountered only two other vehicles carrying visitors.
An adventurer who has mapped valleys capable of attracting thousands of global travelers daily looked out at our roaring river and remarked with deep exhaustion: “Chitral is a neglected piece of paradise”.
That phrase holds two truths in a single breath. It acknowledges a beauty so fierce that feels sacred, while calling out the quiet structural abandonment that keeps this wilderness isolated from the world.
Tucked into the extreme northwestern corner of Pakistan along Afghanistan’s Wakhan Corridor, Chitral’s sheer geographic scale led to its division into two districts: Lower Chitral, which holds the commercial hubs of Chitral City, Drosh, and Ayun; and Upper Chitral, which encompasses Booni, Mastuj, and the wild alpine borders of Broghil.
Towering over this entire landscape is Tirich Mir, the highest peak in the Hindu Kush system and a legendary destination for international climbers, surrounded by severe peaks like Istor-o-Nal, Noshaq, Buni Zom, Saraghrar, Shakawar Peak, Udren Zom, Langar Peak and the Tirich Zom Group.
Chitral’s true essence lies in its extraordinary cultural duality. Standing as a brilliant anomaly in the region, the Kalasha maintain what is arguably the most distinct ethno-religious lifestyle and unique cultural tapestry in the entire South Asia.
This human element forms the true essence of the lower district, where the Kalash Valleys of Bumburet, Rumbur and Birir form a globally unique cultural landscape dotted with ancient Kalash Temples, sacred sites, and traditional wooden graveyards.
