Gaining God in Gorno-Badakhshan
After six hours of severe battering the much abused Russian Jeep finally spluttered and stuttered and after a series of hiccups and jolts came to a dead halt at a place amongst least known and explored by man. Though my driver cum guide looked severely worried; which was his usual expression even when surrounded by vodka and pretty girls, I heaved a sigh of utmost relief. As I fell out of the jeep onto the dry and parched ground amidst one of the finest and grandest landscapes imaginable I struggled hard to get my bruised and shaken body under some control. If the jeep did not recuperate then we had serious problem; facing dehydration, hypothermia and death (due bandits). Agha and I were stuck right in the heart of the dreaded wastelands of western Turkistan at the Southern edge of the great Alay Mountain Range in Southern Kyrgyzstan. Our destination, the tiny settlement of Alteenmazar lay an hour further to the South. While Agha cursed and deliberated, I stared hypnotized at the mount