I had chosen to write about Gilgit, a sleepy outpost at the heart of High Asia, not only to pay homage to my roots and ancestry, but also as a revisit to the marvel that constituted its strategic geography, having played a key, even if little appreciated role, in shaping the region’s geopolitics over millennia - including the rivalry eulogized as The Great Game between the British and Russian Empires. Currently, as the border gateway to the China-Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC), the flagship enterprise of China’s ambitious Belt and Road Initiative (BRI), the region is once again poised to become a key theatre of the evolving Great Power Competition, situated as it is at the crossroads of critical histories, geographies, rivalries and resources.

Amidst the churn of great power dynamics, why the banality of a small émigré community having captured my imagination? Stemming partly from the promise of a personal connect, it was the intriguing backdrop within which the migration took place that caught my attention. The migration in reality was a banishment, that of the reigning ruler of Nagar, a border pocket state situated on a tract of land famously described by the British traveler E.F Knight as “Where three Empires meet”. Nagar along with its sister state of Hunza, the fabled valley identified by many as the mythical Shangri–La of James Hilton’s ‘Lost Horizon’, occupied great strategic salience within the British imperial construct, especially as part of its Forward Policy against a perceived Russian onslaught on its northern frontiers in the mid-nineteenth century. The petty states of Hunza and Nagar were situated at the southern end of the Pamir Mountains in what today constitutes Gilgit-Baltistan— a part of the erstwhile state of Jammu and Kashmir. It also bound the neighbouring Chinese territory of Xinjiang (East Turkestan) and the Khanates of Central Asia— all annexed and under the patronage of Russia— hence the “meeting of the three Empires”. This further whetted the fear of what came to be termed as the “Pamir Gap”— the possibility of various passes along the Pamir and Karakoram mountains being used by Russian Cossack forces to launch an invading attack on India. Under these circumstances it became imperative for the British to secure key border regions and bring them directly under the Empire’s sway. This however, was not an outlook the rulers of the Hunza and Nagar states were receptive to, especially as Hunza, the bigger and more powerful of the two states, had already entered into a tributary relationship with the neighboring Chinese Empire. Besides, as autonomous states the rulers especially that of Nagar, the defiant Raja Azure Khan, were reluctant to surrender their authority and powers. The inability to reach an agreement over the issue between the two sides, subsequently lead to The Anglo-Burusho war of 1891. A bloody battle ensued and despite the brave front put up by the Hunza-Nagar forces, the superior British force imposed a crippling defeat. The importance of the campaign can be ascertained by the fact that three Victoria Crosses (VC) and numerous Indian Orders of Merit were awarded to the troops by the British Government. The fact that the British forces were led by Colonel Algernon Durand, the brother of then Foreign Secretary of India, Sir Mortimer Durand further underscores the significance of the campaign.

The British victory also sealed the fate of Raja Azure Khan, the incumbent Raja of Nagar, who was ultimately exiled to Kashmir. His pliant brother, Sikander Khan was placed on the throne instead, clearing the way for a smooth transition towards the British territorialisation, and hence domination of the region. In Kashmir, Azure Khan was initially imprisoned at the Hari Parbat fort, along with his supporters who were exiled with him. After six years of imprisonment, he was then shifted to a nearby estate and kept under house arrest. It was in March 1922 that Azure Khan breathed his last and was laid to rest in a mausoleum situated in the outskirts of Srinagar city. His offspring and those of his followers banished with him continue to reside in the city.

This fascinating piece of history piqued my interest both in terms of its historical gravity and the personal opportunity it presented to forge a connect. I had already known some of the offspring of the erstwhile ruler, without knowing the history, but as invested as they were within the structures of Kashmir’s elite socialization, there was little scope for the cultural identification I was looking for. I was somehow led to the set of descendants still living in the vicinity of the estate Azure Khan had spent his final years in and was taken aback at the laborious preservation of their erstwhile culture and identity. The conscious effort and perseverance in cultivating their roots was laudable. While I too traced my antecedents to Gilgit, I was not ethnically a Burusho. Nestled in the heart of High Asia, Gilgit had over millennia bordered myriad imperial territories, cultures and ethnicities, becoming a melting pot of the same. The northern territories of Hunza-Nagar bore heavy Central Asian imprints, while the southern territory of Astore, to which I belong, diluted the cultural impact of the region’s northern neighbours. Hunza-Nagar had also acquired the Pagan customs of the northern (Central Asian) steppes including the belief system of Shamanism which they continue to practice, albeit in a watered-down version, to date. A shared language, the great denominator, was also missing. The community spoke Burushaski, a language isolate spoken only by the people of Hunza-Nagar, whereas I speak Shina, the predominant language of Gilgit.

This however didn’t hold me back and neither did it deter them. I was invited for tea with the community. As I entered the hillock where the community largely lived – near Kathi Darwaza in downtown Srinagar, it was as if I was transported to the alleys of Gilgit. There was a certain character to the place that reminded me of home, whether real or imagined, but I felt an instant connect. Despite the passage of well over a century and four generations later the Burusho community continued to firmly hold on to their customs and ethos. Even the youngest generation communicated in fluent Burushaski and an evident sense of pride in their antecedents prevailed. This had however not kept them from assimilating into the larger society around them but there was a conscious decision to hold on to their ancestral way of life. I was shown photographs of weddings where the traditional Nagar practices and rituals were incorporated alongside the Kashmiri traditions. The grooms continued to wear the traditional Gilgiti outfit known as the Chogah. The men adorned the peculiar tilted woollen headgear referred to as Khoi in Gilgit—I remember my uncle gifting Khois to my young children on their last visit there, over a decade ago. The women also owned traditional Gilgiti silver jewelry having collected them from previous visits to Gilgit or received them as gifts from relatives in Gilgit during planned pilgrimages to Makkah together. Over the years communication had however become difficult as relations between India and Pakistan deteriorated. The anguish of the community over the inability to stay in touch with their loved ones was indicative of the plight of divided families separated by conflict.

Another means through which the community preserved its ethnicity was by instituting marriages strictly within the community, a practice especially espoused by the royalty. It was also a means of keeping their race ‘pure’. The practice had been instrumental in preserving the Central Asian physical features of the community characterized by a bright complexion with mostly blue or green monolid eyes, distinct from the aquiline nose and high cheek bone facial features of the indigenous Kashmiri race. Hence the sobriquet ‘Botraja’; Bota in Kashmir refers to people with mongoloid features, and raja means King. However, with time, inter-marriages have started to become normalised. Also, in a departure from their ancestors in Nagar, the community in Kashmir traces their lineage to Nausherwan Adil (Nausherwan the Just), one of the most venerated Kings of ancient Persia. Their counterparts in Gilgit however trace their antecedents to Alexander the Great, while some also establish heredity with fairies and deities – a reflection of their belief system centered around themes of the Supernatural. Gilgit has however appealed to such enthralling wonderments since times bygone, be it the “Gold-Digging Ants” of Herodotus or the site of the more scientifically proven tectonic collision of the Indian and Eurasian plates that gave rise to the mighty Himalayas and the Tibetan Plateau – the highest in the world. Gilgit also houses one of the oldest and most diverse collection of petroglyphs (Rock Art) in the world and has been an important (southern) artery along the ancient Silk Road through which Buddhism spread to the East under the aegis of the Great Kushan King Kanishka via the passes of the Karakoram Mountains. The Karakoram Mountains and the Karakoram Highway that now traverses through it from the border with China in the north all the way to the warm waters of the Indian Ocean to the south, remains an intrinsic pathway for the China Pakistan Economic Corridor (CPEC), which has now assumed strategic significance well beyond just economics. The region is steadily emerging as an intersection where the India-Pakistan, India-China and US-China rivalries converge. The India-China border conflict of 2020, in close vicinity to the Karakoram Pass being one such representation. The region is very much on course to becoming the next hotspot as per Harold Mackinder’s Eurasian Heartland theory and the evolving Indo-pacific strategic architecture.

Having come across documents related to Mir Sikander Khan, the brother of Azure Khan who was made to succeed him after the latter’s exile, I became curious as to whether the paths of the brothers ever crossed again. One such early opportunity arose during Raja Sikander Khan’s visit to Srinagar in 1903 enroute Delhi for the Coronation Durbar, held to celebrate the succession of King Edward VII as Emperor of India. Upon inquiry, Raja Tasleem Khan, the great grandson of Raja Azure Khan, denied knowledge of any such encounters, more so as Raja Azure Khan was then being kept under house arrest while Mir Sikander Khan was visiting with official protocol. It became clear that there had been no interaction whatsoever, between the direct descendants of Azure Khan and that of Raja Sikander Khan. The two families had also followed different socio-political trajectories with the successors of Raja Sikander Khan having enjoyed state patronage in Pakistan as ceremonial rulers of the erstwhile state of Nagar, while those of Azure Khan led common lives in Kashmir. I also tried getting in touch with the incumbent Raja of Nagar, Raja Qasim Khan who now lives in London, to get his views on the subject and establish communication, if possible, between the two families. But to no avail.

Looking back, the saga of Raja Azure Khan has enabled me an entirely novel perspective, bringing closer to home the intricacies of imperial machinations. It has also drawn my attention to the power of the moment, how a defining decision or event can alter the course of history and the destiny of many. More so, the history of the region no longer remains a distant, blurred ideation for me, having acquired a life of its own with the real-life, personalized appreciation of its inner workings and the course it took. The family of Raja Azure Khan continues to remain a source of heartfelt camaraderie.

(The writer is an academic. A graduate of the University of Cambridge, she has previously taught at Jindal Global University and is presently working on her manuscript ‘The Great Gilgit Game’ with Penguin India).