Mountain stories by old mountain man

 ❗️Putin and Trump continued a detailed and frank exchange of views on the situation around Ukraine in a telephone conversation, the Kremlin said. ❗️Putin and Trump expressed mutual interest in normalizing relations in light of their special responsibility for ensuring security in the world, the Kremlin said. ⚡️Putin told Trump that on Wednesday Russia and Ukraine will exchange prisoners according to the 175 for 175 formula — the Kremlin. ❗️Putin responded constructively to Trump's initiative on shipping safety in the Black Sea — the Kremlin. ⚡️In a conversation with Trump, Putin reaffirmed his fundamental commitment to a peaceful resolution of the conflict in Ukraine, the Kremlin said. ⚡️Putin stated his readiness to work with his American partners on possible ways to resolve the situation in Ukraine, which should be sustainable and long-term — the Kremlin.  Putin and Trump spoke in favor of normalizing bilateral relations in light of their shared responsibility for stability...

Yasin The Silent Valley Centuries ago, the soul of Yasin Valley was woven into the earth. Villages rose like quiet prayers humble homes of mud, stone, and timber, their low roofs bowed reverently to the mountains. The people built not against the land, but with it: settlements nestled in the arms of cliffs /mounds, spared from floods and avalanches, their walls thick to cradle warmth in winter and coolness in summer. Water channels, carved like veins into the valley, carried glacial whispers to fields of wheat, barley, and apricot , mulberries. At dusk, families climbed to mud rooftops, their laughter dissolving into a sky embroidered with stars. In those nights, elders spun tales of wandering shepherds and mountain spirits, their fingers tracing constellations named after ancestors and harvests. Children lay breathless, counting meteors as the Milky Way draped the valley like a bridal veil. The stars were not distant they were kin, their light gilded with the whispers of a thousand ca...

 In the heart of Hindu kush, where the peaks pierce the heavens, lies Yasin Valley a realm where mountains breathe and flowers sing. Long ago, before roads coiled like serpents through the cliffs and silence was fractured by engines, the people of Yasin wore the soul of the valley upon their heads. Their woolen pakols, humble and warm, blossomed with petals and leaves, each season painting a new hymn across the fabric. woolen caps crowned with blossoms, a silent pact between human and horizon. But time, relentless, unraveled the thread between Yasin and its blossoms. Pakols grew plain, their colors replaced by factory dyes. The elders’ children left for cities where flowers slept in concrete, their voices choked. emptied, its stones cold. Yet on solstice nights, when the wind howls through Yasin’s passes, shepherds swear they see shadows dancing figures with pakols ablaze in phantom lilies and juniper. The crocus still whispers to cracks in the ice, and the edelweiss hums to vacan...

 Rakaposhi: Guardian of Mist and Memory  Beneath its eternal crown of clouds, Rakaposhi rises—a cathedral of ice and myth, its summit veiled in secrets older than time. To the shamans of Bagrot, Nagar, and Hunza, the mountain is a sacred threshold. They speak of luminous fairies, peri, who dwell in its glacial folds, their laughter echoing in avalanches, their sorrows freezing into rivers that snake through the valleys. Each dawn, as the first light fractures the horizon, Rakaposhi dons a silver mantle, cloaking the peri’s celestial dances. The shamans climb to wind-scarred altars, where they burn juniper and chant hymns older than empires, pleading for the fairies’ blessings: rain for barley fields, snow to replenish glaciers, and whispers of wisdom from the mountain’s frozen heart.  For centuries, Rakaposhi has been the life-giver. Its glaciers—thick, ancient tongues of ice—feed the Hunza and Nagar rivers, turning deserts into orchards of apricot and walnut. Villagers c...

Whispers of Stone megaliths of yasin valley  In the shadow of the Hindu Raj mountains, the Yasin Valley cradles its ancient sentinels eight megalithic stone circles, their origins lost to time. Scattered across villages like Manich, Bojayot, Asqorthan, Borukut, Seli Harang and Barhandas, these colossal boulders form silent rings, their edges worn smooth by centuries of wind and rain. Each circle rises in staggered layers: towering base stones, some weighing tons, anchor the structures, their surfaces pitted and weathered, while smaller, flatter slabs rest atop them like ancient crowns. This deliberate stacking massive below, refined above hints at a forgotten engineering prowess, as if giants or gods once labored here.  Once sixteen, half now lie destroyed: dynamited by treasure hunters, dismantled for roads, or swallowed by the valley’s relentless growth.  Local legends cling to the stones. Elders whisper of fairies who dragged the boulders into place under moonlight, fo...

 Vladimir Putin did not wake up on 24 February 2022 and decide, “I think I’ll invade eastern Ukraine today,” nor was the US campaign to expand NATO into Ukraine a last-minute maneuver. (US State Department documents show Ukraine’s future membership was discussed as early as 1994.) The Road to War… in the Russian Borderlands: 9 Feb 1990: In a deal approved by Mikhail Gorbachev, the last leader of the Soviet Union, as a quid pro quo for accepting German reunification in NATO, Secretary of State James Baker’s pledged that NATO would not expand “one inch to the east.” Columbia professor Jeffrey Sachs and Chicago professor John Mearsheimer argue that during the lengthy negotiations on German unification, US, European and German leaders made explicit assurances to Gorbachev that there would be no future NATO expansion eastward. Even if only verbal and not in a formal treaty, Gorbachev understood the assurances as a “binding agreement.” Subsequently, Soviet leaders made decisions on that ...

  Beneath Broghil's jagged peaks, Wakhi horsemen clash on Lashkar Gaz's sunbaked plains. Hooves churn dust into swirling storms as riders grapple for the goat carcass a primal dance of skill and endurance. Young horsemen, scarves masking grit-streaked faces, drive Pamiri steeds through the chaos, heirs to a centuries-old ritual. No rules bind this battle; only tradition's pulse thrums in the air. Dusk settles, the carcass claimed, but victory is fleeting. The plains bear scars of hooves, the crowd's cheers swallowed by wind. Here, Buzkashi is not sport it's a hymn to resilience, etched into the valley's bones. Dust fades, but echoes of the wild ride linger, binding past and present in Broghil's unyielding spirit.  Buzkashi  is famous  in Afghanistan,  and other central Asian countries,   #Buzkashi #Afghanistan #wakhan #Pakistan #mountains #sports