ast year, I had the pleasure of visiting Kurram, a recently integrated tribal district of Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. This region, steeped in local folklore, is renowned for its pleasant weather, verdant valleys, sparkling streams and vibrant tribal culture. Growing up, I was captivated by countless tales of Kurram, or “Kurma” as we call it, particularly the enchanting city of Parachinar. Despite proximity – I hail from Hangu - I had never ventured to this fabled land.

The momentous day finally arrived. Departing from Islamabad, I embarked on my long-awaited journey. The journey took me along Fateh Jang Road, crossing the iconic Khushal Garh Bridge that neatly separates the Punjab from Khyber Pakhtunkhwa. In a few hours, I arrived in Kohat, where I paused for a revitalising cup of tea. After the refreshment, I continued towards Hangu, stopping at a humble roadside restaurant known for its delicious chapli kebabs and refreshing qahva.

My next stop was Doaba, a bustling hub of economic activity in the Hangu district. This vibrant town is the lifeline for the surrounding villages, supplying them with essential goods and services. The journey through these picturesque landscapes and lively communities was more than mere travel—it was a reconnection with my heritage.

Continuing through the ever-changing landscape—from arid, rugged mountains to a vast wilderness, lively villages and green valleys—I navigated through Tall, Chappri and Sadda Bazaar. Finally, I reached the Bab-i-Kurram check post, where my friend Syed Musawir Hussain awaited me. Receiving welcome guests at the threshold of one’s territory is a cherished tradition. I had met Musawir briefly during a research study and found him to be a fine gentleman, a true Pashtoon, and a devoted family man. However, the respect and hospitality extended to me on this trip were truly unforgettable. We stepped out of our cars, embraced warmly, and he invited me to follow his lead as we embarked on the next leg of our adventure.

Shortly afterwards, we had parked our vehicles next to Kurram Darbar Hotel and Restaurant, hunger demanding satiation. Perfection awaited us within. Having opted for chicken roast, we marvelled as the chicken arrived meticulously cut into pieces and then roasted, presented on a small tray. Curious about the portioning, I asked the waiter about it. He explained that this method ensured cooking perfection. Alongside, chapli kebabs delighted our palates, their flavours possibly enhanced by the mystical ambience of Parachinar, where culinary wonders harmonise effortlessly.

After the lunch, Musawir took me to a tea place, where we enjoyed every sip in the cool afternoon breeze. My friend showed me the fence marking the border between Pakistan and Afghanistan. The view was indeed spectacular. The mountain tops stood like towering walls around the valley.

Before we continue further, let me slip in a brief introduction to Kurram district and Parachinar city.

Kurram, once a tribal agency, underwent a transformative shift in 2018 following the constitutional amendment that merged all seven tribal agencies into the Khyber Pakhtunkhwa province, bringing Kurram into the Kohat division’s fold. Renowned as a pivotal gateway connecting the Indian subcontinent to Kabul and Gardez through the Peiwar Kotal Pass, Kurram commands a strategic location.

Kurram borders North Waziristan and Hangu districts to the south, Khyber and Orakzai districts to the east, and Afghanistan’s Khost, Paktia and Nangarhar provinces to the west. The district’s fertile terrain and favourable climate make it agriculturally the most prosperous among the newly integrated regions. Farming sustains nearly 70 per cent of its population.

While summers are temperate and inviting, winters can be harsh, with temperatures frequently plummeting below freezing, sometimes dipping below -10 degrees Celsius. Snowfall generously blankets the northern and western heights during this season.

Parachinar, the bustling district headquarters and the town bordering Afghanistan, is renowned for its lush chinar (maple) groves. Parachinar has tremendous trade potential with Afghanistan and Central Asia thanks to its strategic connectivity. As the closest Pakistani border town to Kabul, located just 65 miles away, it offers a crucial link to Afghanistan’s capital. In earlier epochs, Parachinar had thrived as a fortified city with four distinguished gates: Maan Singh and Ather Singh Gates, named in honour of local merchants, and Shingak and Thal Gates, named after the towns they faced.

Beyond its urban core, Kurram has numerous scenic marvels such as Kirman, Zairan, Shalozan, the historic Kharlachi Fort, Teri Mengal, and the majestic Koh-i-Sufaid, also known as Spin Ghar or the White Mountain. The formidable mountain range stretches from eastern Afghanistan into Khyber Pakhtunkhwa, a natural boundary between the two regions. Its crowning glory is Mount Sikaram, the highest peak, towering magnificently over the surrounding hills and offering a picturesque backdrop to Kurram’s landscape.

Now, back to my journey. We left the tea shop just as dusk enveloped us and headed directly to the Governor’s Cottage, where I was to stay. This exquisite government building, a relic of the colonial era dating back to 1895, exudes a timeless charm. This serene haven, secluded from the city’s hustle and bustle, offered a perfect retreat into the past.

Parachinar is a place that beckons me again and again. The Kurram district remains unexplored, but it is a perfect treasure trove for adventurous tourists.

The following day, Musawir drove me to Kurram Bakery, a delightful plave where various bakery items were presented with artistic flair. We indulged in some delectable dry fruit pastries, perfectly paired with a soothing cup of tea. After breakfast, we ventured into the lively bazaars of Parachinar.

Our first stop was at Punjabi Bazaar, a bustling market likely named after the local Sikh merchants. This vibrant hub had everything one could imagine, from daily essentials to unique trinkets that caught the eye. Next, we wandered into Kurram Bazaar, which was equally lively but had a distinct charm.

Renowned for its exquisite dry fruits, mostly imported from Afghanistan, and traditional shawls, the market was a faithful shopper’s paradise with its impressive variety and high quality goods.

Afterwards, we made our way to the Markazi Imambargah and Mosque, a site of breathtaking grandeur. This historic place, over a century old, is one of the largest and most significant imambargahs in the country. The building was in the midst of an expansion and renovation project. Pristine white hues and subtle decorations dominated the older section. The new section drew inspiration from Persian architecture with delicate local touches.

Strolling through the courtyard, I felt a profound sense of spirituality wash over me. The religious scholars welcomed me warmly and offered qahva. The complex also featured residential quarters with over two dozen rooms, each furnished simply with a carpet, a central fireplace, a mattress and a pillow. I was invited to stay as long as I wished.

The scholars had initially assumed that I was from Islamabad. When I revealed that I was actually from a village in nearby Hangu, the handshakes grew even warmer. “Oh, then you are one of us,” I was told. We shared a hearty laugh, cementing a bond of shared heritage and newfound friendship.

Stepping outside, we saw a large mosque with a single towering minaret visible from most parts of the city. Sunni and Shia Muslims have coexisted here for centuries.

Next, we visited the Shaheed Agha Irfani Mausoleum, Imam Bagh Ziarat in Zeran village, and Abbas Alamdar Ziarat in Malana village. The magnificence of the architecture and the sheer tranquility of these sites cannot be adequately described.

It was now time to head to Kharlachi, a border crossing between Pakistan and Afghanistan. The journey took us along a dusty, rocky off-road path, surrounded by vast lands and dry, rugged mountains.

I have always been captivated by such landscapes—they remind me of my hometown, and I feel an instant connection with these barren mountains.

Far removed from human dwellings, Kharlachi is a place of profound solitude. There are only a few houses, no traffic and no signs of urban life. The area is so quiet that one can hear the flutter of butterflies and dragonflies’ wings. This serene and untouched environment offered a rare, tranquil escape from the din of everyday life.

As evening descended over the vast plains and rugged mountains, we indulged in a timeless Pashtoon tradition. We took out our thermos flask, filled our cups twice, and savoured the tea that seemed to carry the essence of the surroundings. The unique flavour made it feel as though the very spirit of the landscape had seeped into our drink.

As I sipped my tea, gazing at the distant wilderness, my mind was awash with thoughts. This place is truly a hidden gem. The natural landscapes are breathtaking, the hospitality is unmatched and the people are remarkably civilised. The temperature is perfect for tourism. Kurram is a paradise for local travelers that offers a remarkable contrast with the province’s dry and rugged southern belt.

However, for several decades now the region has been plagued by sectarian strife. Extremist elements—mostly outsiders but a few from within the region—have exploited sectarian tensions and stirred conflict. Thankfully, the tribal elders, through immediate interventions via jirgas, have often prevented the situation from spiralling out of control.

With more people getting educated, there’s a growing awareness of the divisive tactics. Recently, youth from both sects have united, rejecting any attempts to create a rift between them. This newfound solidarity is a promising sign, showing that the community is rising above petty games and embracing a more harmonious future.

It was time finally to prepare for my journey back to Islamabad. I felt a bittersweet pang. The next morning, as I was about to leave, Musawir Bhai, in a gesture of traditional hospitality, handed me a generous assortment of dry fruits and sweets to take home to my family. With heartfelt farewells exchanged, I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of sadness as I departed.

As we drove away from our friends, a statue of Ajab Khan Afridi caught my eye. The Pashtoon hero and guerilla fighter was once a constant threat to British designs in the tribal lands.

He was particularly famous for stealing modern British rifles and using them against the British.

Parachinar is a place that beckons me again and again. This visit was a mere teaser; a glimpse into the beauty and charm of Parachinar. The Kurram district remains unexplored. It is a perfect treasure trove for adventurous tourists. I pray for Parachinar to attain peace, allowing its splendour to shine and be appreciated by more travellers.

The writer is an institutional economist and political analyst, is the assistant chief of policy at the Pakistan Institute of Development Economics