The Kalasha (Kalasha: کاࣇاشؕا, romanised: Kaḷaṣa; Kalasha-ala: Kalaṣa; Urdu: کالاش), or Kalash, also called Waigali or Wai, are a Dardic Indo-Aryan indigenous people residing in the Chitral District of Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa province of Pakistan.They speak the Kalasha language, from the Dardic family of the Indo-Aryan branch. They are considered unique among the people of Pakistan. They are also considered to be Pakistan’s smallest ethnoreligious group,[11] and traditionally practice a religion which some authors characterise as a form of animism, while academics classify it as “a form of ancient Hinduism”.
During the mid-20th century an attempt was made to put force on a few Kalasha villages in Pakistan to convert to Islam, but the people fought the conversion and, once official pressure was removed, the vast majority resumed the practice of their own religion. Nevertheless, about half of the Kalasha have since gradually converted to Islam, despite being shunned afterward by their community for having done so The term is used to refer to many distinct people including the Väi, the Čima-nišei, the Vântä, plus the Ashkun- and Tregami-speakers. The Kalash are considered to be an indigenous people of Asia, with their ancestors migrating to Chitral valley from another location possibly further south, which the Kalash call “Tsiyam” in their folk songs and epics. Some of the Kalash traditions consider the various Kalash people to have been migrants or refugees. They are also considered by some to have been descendants of Gandhari people.The neighbouring Nuristani people (including the Kalasha-ala) of the adjacent Nuristan (historically known as Kafiristan) province of Afghanistan once had the same culture and practised a faith very similar to that of the Kalash, differing in a few minor particulars. The first historically recorded Islamic invasions of their lands were by the Ghaznavids in the 11th century while they themselves are first attested in 1339 during Timur’s invasions. Nuristan had been forcibly converted to Islam in 1895–96, although some evidence has shown the people continued to practice their customs. The Kalash of Chitral has maintained its own separate cultural traditions.
The Strange Valley Kafiristan QUDRATULLAH SHAHAB Literally, Kafiristan means the land of nonbelievers. But the term is applied rather loosely to a triplicate range of parallel mountains to the South-West of Chitral. Enclosed in a mighty framework of mountains are three narrow dales—Birir, Bhumberat and Rumber, collectively known as the valley of Kafiristan. LMOND trees decked with gay blossoms; lush orchards of pears and apples and pomegranates; cluster after cluster of vine poised tipsily on village walls; gregarious cabins studded almost ornamentally on hillslopes; great deep valleys carpeted with soft grass; willows and poplars; glacier-born torrents singing like an unending supernatural voice; frozen cataracts and glorious snow-wreaths hanging from the branches of walnut trees—this is an Arcadia which exists even today untormented by the bustling spirit of progress which has only succeeded in bringing mankind to the brink of an atomic explosion! There are hardly 400 houses in this expansive valley and the population which does not exceed 2,500 constitutes what may well be the world’s smallest minority. Racially, the Kafirs—or the “Kalosh” as they are locally called—represent a type distinct from the Chitralis and the Pathans who surround them. May be, they are a branch of the original Aryans who, This is the valley of Kafiristan.
The whole countryside burst forth like magic, and swarms of men and women descended from all over the surrounding hills and danced madly around the bewildered Political Agent till he was almost tipsy with the exuberance of their infectious gaiety!Such sunny smiles bespeak a radiant natureMirrors are an article of advanced luxury……clear runningbrooks make glorious reflectors “One impulse from a vernal wood, can teach you more of man, of moral evil and of good than all the sages can.” choice of the year is given a royal send-off with young girls singing and dancing around him in giddy circles till he crosses the precincts of each Kafir village and hamlet. While the Budhalak wanders from pasture to pasture in distant valleys tending his flocks of sheep and cows, the girls of his tribe weave lyrics of love and passion in anticipation of his return: celebrate the return of the hero-boy. This is a wild, erotic occasion when wine flows freely and the hero of the winter is allowed to pick up any married or unmarried girl as his bride for the night. This is his reward for a dreary and lonely winter spent far away from home in the service of his community. This is also the night for which all the girls of the tribe wait ardently through winter and make songs of sweet expectancy and desire. “You are enjoying yourself in warm, snowless valleys and drinking the fresh sweet milk of cows: But fancy poor me imprisoned in the midst of great mounds of snow, eating dried grapes and apples and pining away in your memory. Say, when you come, will you pick me up as your sweetheart on the Chirangash night? I curl my hair for you every day and my eyes are waiting to drown you in their depth; The establishment of Pakistan came to the Kafirs as the dawn of a new free age. The story goes that when the first Political Agent of Pakistan in Chitral paid a visit to Kafiristan, he decided to open a school and a dispensary there and selected a vacant plot of land for this purpose. Then he called the elders of the tribe for consultation and inquired whether they had any objection to his acquiring the vacant land on payment of reasonable compensation. A sudden silence fell on the assembly and hushed whispers passed from man to man. The Political Agent thought that his proposal had misfired and was resented by those who did not yet realise the virtues of education and medical aid. But then the leader of the tribe got up and spoke with deep emotion:
My love is longing to squeeze from your aching limbs all the fatigue and gloom of these wintry months; Say, when you come. … “Chirangash’ is the festival of the Spring to ce 10. with the aroma of wild flowers? And grapes whose juice is no less intoxicating than a loving woman’s kiss? The Kafirs have three major festivals which are great social events and also fit into the simple framework of their pastoral economy. Pore—the festival of the grapes—is celebrated in the month of September. This is the time when grapes ripen and the picking season begins. The whole tribe joins in collecting the grapes and crushing them into juice which is stored in large wooden barrels to last through the coming winter. Grape juice which finally ferments into an exceedingly potent wine is the most common beverage and replaces water during some of the coldest months. Chitr Mast—the festival of snowfall—falls in the last week of December almost synchronising with Xmas Day. The object of this celebration is to select a sturdy young man who should take the livestock of the entire tribe to graze in sheltered valleys which are below the snow-line. Despite the ordeal of a long and lonely winter in far-flung areas away from home, the youth of the tribe vie with one another for selection because this service to the community confers on them the title and honors of Budhalak—the hero-boy. The us Tall, upright and smiling, the men are hardy and tireless “Where have you been since the day you left us?”
Ceremonial effigies of the dead installed on hill-sides Villages nestle in the mountain sides like pigeon cotes ir entrapped by difficult and inaccessible mountains, have still retained a streak of their pristine individuality. Or, perhaps, they might trace their ancestry to the Greek influences which Alexander left in the wake of his march of conquest. Whatever their origin, they are now a people apart, their valley an oasis of pastoral bliss in a weary and dangerous world. colorful patterns of flowers made of wool and cotton. Shiny feathers are stitched on the crown and sides by way of rather flamboyant embellishment. The cowries studded back of the Kopesi—as the headgear is locally called—hangs loosely on the shoulders like the hood of an upturned cobra. An embroidered belt worn tightly around the waist completes the ladies’ attire. Tall, broad and smiling, the men are hardy and tireless. It is difficult to find a dull or sullen countenance. Whether toiling in fields of corn and fruit orchards, or whether climbing giddy precipices in quest of game for the evening meal, their sprightly humor and almost philosophic calm never deserts them. They have a stately bearing and have yet to learn lying, fraud, and theft, the common heritage of more sophisticated societies. The women are comparatively short-statured, though equally hardy and tireless. Blessed with radiance of health and a complexion clear and fresh like morning dew, they possess some of the finest charms of feminine form and beauty.
The montony of their dress which consists of a single long, loose and usually black gown is relieved by fantastic headgears worn with great style. The head-dress is somewhat like a lampshade with hundreds of cowries beaded closely together in neat parallel rows, and embroidered with co Women have a remarkable aesthetic sense and have devised their own cosmetics and beauty treatments. The skin of green walnuts is used to cleanse the teeth and give the gums and lips a deep, blood-red tint. This is in fact superior to ordinary lipsticks because it has considerable medicinal value. Moreover, it does not stain and is, therefore, a more reliable keeper of love’s little secrets! Young girls in particular undergo a regular beauty drill to keep up and improve their complexion. The rind of pomegranates, and almonds are roasted and crushed into a thick paste with a number of other aromatic herbs and oily seeds. This is applied to the face frequently and washed away with raw milk. Linseed oil scented with wild flowers is used for the hair which is either plaited into long pigtails, or curled into flowery patterns on the forehead, or left to wave coquettishly from under the inevitable Kopesi. Mirrors are still an article of advanced luxury and most women perform their beauty toilet on the banks of running brooks whose clear deep water makes a glorious reflector. “Old age, serene and bright And lovely as a Lapland Night’
RELIGION WITHOUT TEARS
Life in Kafiristan is not complicated by religious faith nor confused by the lack of it. God is totally beyond their conception. Nor have they created any lesser substitutes for Him. Worship, as worship goes, just does not exist in any form. When they feel happy and prosperous, they get together to sing and dance. If pain, pestilence or death stlikes them, well, they again get up and sing and dance in a different strain. The birth of a child is hailed with gunfire, crackers and night-long revelry in which animals are slaughtered and roasted with salt on log-fire; grape juice fermented in large vats flows like water, and men, women and children of the entire tribe join in the infectious revelry, with drums, flutes, songs and fantastic dances. Guns are fired on the occasion of a death as well, and dances are performed around the corpse to the tune of extempore songs eulogising the brave deeds of the deceased, his marksmanship, his skill in growing maize and tending cattle, and his love episodes. The dead body is put in a closed wooden-box which is then left to lie and rot in an open field. A wooden effigy of the deceased is later prepared and carried in a ceremonial procession to be installed on some hillside near the coffin. This installation is also accompanied by tribal dances and a chorus song of great poetic beauty: “Where have you been since the day you left us? Tell us something about your new home. Are there running brooks with cold and clear water singing songs which are deathless ? And maidens with sky-blue eyes and curly hair and roses in their cheeks which never fade ? And sweet maize cobs and apples and honey frames.
Indigenous Peoples Literature 