Representatives of Pakistan’s Anti-Terrorism Force are always waiting thirty kilometers west of central Karachi, on the boundary of Balochistan province.
Firstly, they confront the vehicle with AK-47s in hand, check the tourist’s travel documents and NOC (No Objection Certificate) issued from the official government that allows foreigners to travel in sensitive areas of the country. After, they are given a green signal of everything was in order, a tourist can convoy with the members of the Anti-Terrorism Force towards the Makran Coast. The starting point of the road trip to the Iranian border.
“For years, the Makran, undoubtedly all of Balochistan, was just off, not only to Westerners but also to Pakistanis from outside the province,” as per BBC Travel. “Before the separatist movement and the presence of some militant Islamists, no one would dare to come here.” However, the army now has the power of Balochistan. It’s the standard operating procedure to travel with a protection detail. It is the only method to see the Makran Coast, and to demonstrate the high points of one of Pakistan’s most gorgeous, pleasant, and culturally rich areas.”
We’d do this by travelling National Highway 10, also known as the Makran Coastal Highway – a 584-kilometre pathway through southern Balochistan that ends at the Iranian border. The Makran Coastal Highway is highly regarded as among the most significant drives in South Asia, with most of it skirting the Arabian Sea, its dazzling cerulean waters dotted with fishing boats out looking for alligator, tuna fish, crab, and lobster.
Fishing has been the mainstay of the Makran economy for centuries, the name “Makran” is thought to be bribery of the Persian word for “fish eaters.” It is still relevant today, but residents may also be engaged in other industry sectors, such as ship-breaking and even smuggling.”
After arriving at the first popular attraction along the highway about 200 kilometres from Karachi: the sturdy vast stretches of Pakistan’s largest national park, Hingol, in which unsettling lunar landscapes were sculpted by the Makran’s flinging ocean wind speeds, boiler heat, and occasional rainstorms of stormwater runoff.
A bumpy path inside the park’s boundaries led us to the base of a rare geomorphological oddity – a pair of magma that generate mud rather than basaltic. Annually, a caravan of pilgrims rises to their peaks to begin a spiritual journey regarded as one of the holy places in Hinduism. For the Mata Hinglaj Yatra, tens of thousands of people come from all over Balochistan and Sindh regions, which locals observe every year. They light candles and hurl coconuts into the crater, confessing their sins and pleading for forgiveness before bathing in the Hingol River. Then to be in good shape visit the nearby Hinglaj Mata shrine. It is an adventure in addition to the good deeds of the journey.
Gradually, then move deep into a nice, dark ravine. Then there’s an elderly gentleman named Maharaj Gopal who was standing guard over an ornate glass box – the Hinglaj Mata shrine – beneath a rocky overhang.
Millions of years ago, during the first era of humankind, the Goddess Sati died, and the God Vishnu seemed to have her body cut into 51 parts. The bits of Goddess’s body touched down, mostly over India, but a piece of her Goddess’s head landed here in the Makran. Each of these locations is recognized as Shakti Peetha – sacred areas where Hindus go to worship the Goddess, a loyalty they will continue to practice for the rest of eternity.
That day will come sooner or later, rather unsettlingly. The fourth and final yuga has begun. When it’s over, everything you see here, all of Makran, the entire world, will be demolished.”
Set yourself out, dodging the Makran Coastal Range’s great fortress ledges and stone pinnacles. For most of the voyage, there will be only fleeting occasional flashes of life in Pakistan’s largest but slightest occupied region: the incidental farmer riding his donkey to a distant market; village boys playing cricket on improvised pitches labelled in the dust and sand.
The highway began climbing sharply, putting our four-wheel-drive on assessment. But trying to take a significant toll on some of the garishly decorated trucks that also served the pathway, subjected to shear wheels and overthrowing loads even after the many treasures they conducted on board to stave off the death stare and maintain them safe and protected.
These days, even on a good unpaved road, it can be a rough ride. However, during Alexander the Great’s reign, the army traversed harsh terrain on foot and horseback. It is said to have led 30,000 soldiers from his initiative in India from across Makran towards Babylon in 325 BCE. There was a lot of heartache in the warmth, and there was a lot of bloodshed. Only half of those who began the adventure are thought to have made it to contemporary Iran alive. Today’s highway is widely assumed to be the same route that Alexander the Great took, though this is difficult to confirm.
The ultimate destination will be in the grimy city of Jiwani, about 50 kilometres east of the Iranian border. The memorial of a turbaned Sardar, one of Balochistan’s old tribal chiefs for whom the authority was historically transferred from one eldest son to the other in a “turbaning” ceremony. The version of a throne controlled its main street. We set out to find a distinct kind of splendid memorial: a hut specifically built for Queen Victoria which is now part of a high-security complex inhabited by the Pakistani coastguard’s Second Battalion.
Even though the cottage is normally temporarily closed. He tried to tell us that this observation hut was constructed for Queen Victoria in 1876 after she heard about the gorgeous Makran beautiful scenery. Historians claim she never visited this region of the world, but elderly folks try to claim she did.
The front measures are not-so-palatial houses. There were only three small, scattered rooms within it: a guest room, a dining room, and a sitting room. Besides a telephone connecting the hut to servants’ quarters – constructions that had recently been transformed to satisfy the coastguard’s anti-smuggling operations – few initial specifics stayed.
“The long journey is well worth it,” because a Makran sunset is unlike any other. As the sun sets, the sky changes color schemes, going from yellow to orange, then smeared with red like a pomegranate, and eventually shades of purple. When it vanishes into the night, we wish and hope that by the grace of God, it will reappear the next morning. And Inshallah, God willing, we will live to see.
