Narrated By Late Dadu Khan in July 2014, in Maiun. I grew up listening to folk stories from my grandparents and elder people in my family, and I was always fascinated by those stories. Among the many tales they told, the legend of Seko Saparo is one such tale you won’t find in any book. In the summer of 2014, during my vacation, I had the pleasure of spending time with my grandfather’s youngest brother, Late Dadu Khan. I would often sit with him and ask him to tell me stories, and he would gladly share them. He served in the army and worked as a teacher in the village. He was in his late seventies when he narrated the story of Seko Saparo. The story unfolds as: Saparo was a resident of Seko, one of the oldest settlements of lower Hunza, currently known as Hussainabad. Saparo lived with his wife Makhagal in Seko. Makhagal was from Chalt, a nearby village in Nagar. He was a Daruoch (means hunter) and spent his summers in Maiun Bar, hunting for their livelihood. One day, he to...
Growing up I never thought this would become a story one day. Here today, when I look back to the early 2000s, we did not have tap water system in Hunza. There were no pipes connections into our kitchens. Instead, every neighborhood had a Gulk (a communal well) which was brimming over with fresh water every day. These communal wells were not only the source of fresh and cold water but also a place where people, especially women used to gather and socialize. Women gathered every day, not only for fresh water but also to gossip, laugh, rest, and simply be together. As the sun climbed and the fields grew too hot to work in, they’d retreat to the Gulk’s cold and refreshing shade. Some would sit with their feet in the water, sleeves rolling up, chatting for hours. Others brought along little sewing kits and worked on cross-stitch embroidery carefully crafting traditional Hunza caps and art pieces meant as gifts for brides to take to their in-laws. And somehow, while all this was happe...