Starving Buddha In Peshawar

As my own freedom of movement is rather limited, I have become an increasingly grateful "personne accompagnante" in the true sense of the word - taking advantage of official and professional visits  that offer me the required protection. Eager to see whatever is possible in this country and happy to be able to do so under the current circumstances.

A visit to the Governor of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa (formerly called "North West Frontier Province") in Peshawar allows me one of these trips, that otherwise would be impossible.

Entering the city by car from Islamabad, some interesting shops frame the roadside - as unusual as it seems to me, the sight of stores that sell arms and explosives, does not seem any more special to the locals than the car supplies warehouse or household utilities shop on the same street.

The tight Hotel's security measures that include screening of all luggage 100 yards away from the Hotel entrance seem perfectly logical to me, realizing only then how one gets used to the strangest circumstances.

Of course, I don't get permission to visit the old town - after being tempted by narratives how wonderful the market is, oldest city of skilled copper and silversmiths, a trading center of semi precious stones, emerald mines in the region,...  No, I head to the tiny Hotel shop instead, that, I am told, is brand new and absolutely worth a visit!

A look at the bookshelves offers an interesting choice - no books about the beauties of the city or nature of this area, hiking trails, museums or  landmarks. Not even toothbrush or shampoo. No - books of totally different topics:

Still, the young shopkeeper, who offers to bring anything from his father's main shop to the Hotel, really anything that I would be interested in, has a beautiful fertility figure among his small collection of beads. That's it, nothing else. Needless to say that I opened my purse without hesitation to buy it - broken and repaired with non matching parts of another figure, but surprisingly touching in its frailty and expression!

The sight of a lovely swimming pool in the middle of the patio lets me regret that I forgot my bathing suit - for a moment, only until I realize it would be of little use. Unless I had a burkini (I leave it to your imagination what this dress for swimming purposes looks like). No sight of men in bathing suits - i.e. knickerbockers - either.

The Peshawar Museum -  the former British Officer's Ball house -  has a unique collection of Gandhara figures and reliefs from various sights within Pakistan's ancient Peshawar valley in today's Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province. Gandhara - a civilisation under many different rulers (Alexander the Great one of them) from the 6th cent. BC to the year 1000 AC, Buddhism the main religion at the time.

Walking slowly with the curator of the museum through the first floor the story of Buddha's life unfolds, hammered in stone, until we reach the fasting Buddha. To overcome the cycle of birth and rebirth was his endeavor that he  tried to achieve by fasting over six years with nothing more than a single sesame seed or grain of rice per day as food. This sculpture survived in three pieces, but the serenity of the face, his eyes recessed and hollow, the veins subtly carved on the front, the ribcage barely covered by skin only, reminds strangely of figures of Christ dying on the cross dating back to the same period in churches and cathedrals throughout Europe.

Luckily, the enlightenment came, that ultimate wisdom can not be achieved by denying life and so Buddha ended his fasting at the last moment and continued his life journey.

 The museum, empty but for the staff, a Pakistani family and a handful of students, used to be one of the highlights for tourists. Now it is sadly silent and the curator tells us that they exchanged most of the light bulbs for our visit, as poor quality of the bulbs, the changing current of electricity and load shedding breaks them too easily and lets darkness fall into the showcases.

During dinner we get the news about another bomb blast with casualties - luckily not too close to our place.

Returning to Islamabad the next evening we learn about the abduction of a Swiss couple traveling through Baluchistan, heading towards Quetta. We will only know once they are hopefully free again, what made them choose this dangerous itinerary.

Hopefully more cheerful news to follow - for now I am just gliding in the warm water of the pool behind the white marble wall and a Lassi Drink - salty or sweet -  is waiting for me...