Visiting a tourist destination prior to the travelling season has many advantages -- the tranquility before travellers descend in their droves, affordable hotel accommodations and availability of local transport and tourist guides. It was partly with those thoughts that we set off for Galiyat in mid-April.

We left and were about to reach Nathiagali, a city destroyed by the October 2005 earthquake. Among other things my wife and I wanted to learn about the fate of the friends we had made on previous trips and whom we had not heard from since. A tragedy of such an enormous scale understandably leaves its mark on memory. Yet in planning to visit the Kaghan valley we assumed the infrastructure would have recovered sufficiently, with the passage of almost three years and generous help from the world, including billions of dollars pledged at donors' conference.

Reaching Balakot at 2 pm I thought we should make a dash for Naran. We skipped lunch and did just that. The quake's effects were instantly visible as soon as we left Balakot's destroyed houses and massive landslides that had obliterated the road along with the precipitous mountainsides that nestled it. The 93-km road from Balakot to Naran is the most obvious giveaway. For as long as I remember, sections of that road have been in some stage of repair or reconstruction, frequent landslides being a regular feature of the terrain. But this time it was different. The earthquake wiped out around one-third of the familiar asphalt strip, which was also under construction.

The road to Naran was dotted with reminders of the destruction that befell the valley in 2005. Collapsed houses and scores of streams, including one close to Paras village, simply ceased to exist when tremors shook the earth, opening up chasms that swallowed the water. In their stead streams appeared in places where there were previously none. The under-construction bit of the road was open to traffic but was really nothing more than a path of unpaved stones and mud, ideal perhaps for an all-terrain vehicle but a real trial for cars. The snowfall had been unusually high last winter, we were told, evidenced also by the mass of glaciers along the road, at times blocking it.

Throw in a nasty rain and hailstorm, as we encountered that day, and the car driver should frankly find a spot to park safe from landslides and go to sleep. It was tempting to stop for the night at a hotel along the way but we drove on. Before the earthquake, the journey to Naran usually took a little over two hours. The road's condition, weather, landslides and my keenness for photography turned it into an almost five hours journey.

But nothing could prepare us for what awaited upon our arrival. Never in our lives have we felt so 'cheated' and 'plotted against' as we did on reaching Naran that day not finding it quite as we had imagined. Twenty-two buses (I counted) full of students from a private university in Lahore had shattered the tranquility of Naran still struggling out of its winter slumber. The students, all boys, had also taken up every available room in every hotel that was open. Their buses were parked on the entire length of the town's only road and one could hardly drive without running over one or two students. They were going to stay for three nights, hardly an ideal prospect for someone looking for solitude. We left for Shogran the next morning which turned out to be the hardest bit of drive on a steep and perpetually winding road occasionally blocked by boulders.

But once we got there we found a deserted and peaceful Shogran. We discovered that many of the people we had befriended on previous visits including drivers, guides, restaurant owners had perished in the earthquake. Almost everyone we came across in Balakot and the Kaghan Valley had lost family to the calamity. A teenager working for the NWFP Forests Department in Shogran has been employed instead of his father who died in the earthquake. A store owner there had buried eight members of his family after they managed to retrieve the bodies from his collapsed house. Locals told us the wooded areas had escaped the worst landslides caused by tremors and many had learned the lesson of trees' usefulness the hard way. Yet the Forest Department officials we came across did not expect wood theft to end anytime soon.

There has been resurgence in a region where tourism is the principal source of earning. Hotels and restaurants have been the quickest to rebuild and resume work and most owners pride themselves at earning amounts in three months of last year that were to sustain them until the tourism season opened again.

The downside to being the early bird is that the locals aren't ready for you yet. You find the town has run out of bread and last year's last tourist gorged on Shogran's last chicken. "The road would be ready as soon as the season opens, Inshallah," was what we heard at roadblocks as we waited patiently for the heavy earth-moving equipment to clear the path of heaps of construction debris or landslides. It's either the altitude or the clean air, but Shogran always seems to have a different sky, showcasing the entire Milky Way in all its luster and glory. As with the Saiful Maluk Lake in Naran, Sarri and Paya in Shogran were only accessible on foot, jeeps and mules being of little use until the thick snow relented. The forest was as fresh, serene and brimming with life as ever. A thick coat of snow hides the huge heaps of garbage the local hotels conveniently dump in the forest on the edge of Shogran, to the excitement of rummaging armies of monkeys.

On our way back we were marvelling about the things that earthquake could not change. My wife said she wouldn't expect human habits to miraculously disappear after an earthquake. Traits like constant ogling at women by tourists and natives alike were alive and well, she said. A woman still cannot travel in safety anywhere in Pakistan without a male chaperon. We stopped looking for constants.

Situated on the Mardan-Swat road, Takht Bai lies at a distance of 15 kilometres north of Mardan. The monastery is 2 kilometres east of Takht Bai Bazaar. Built on a rocky ridge, it stands 500 feet above the ground. The first sight of the mountain from the car park below is very impressive. A full view of the complex can be seen from the hill-top on which the site stands.

Standing on top of the hill, one can have a spectacular view of the surrounding areas -- the sight of Mardan's suburbs in the east, south and west is refreshing while northwards you see the sprawling Malakand Pass and the Hindu Kush range. The Jamal Garhi's archaeological site is situated at a distance of 12 kilometres to the east of the complex. As you turn eastward, you come across Asia's first sugar mill, Frontier Sugar Mill, which was built by the British Government near the Buddhist monastery.

Takht Bai literally means 'Well on the flat surface of hill.' The remains of the two wells located close to each other still exist on the crest of the hill. The Buddhist monastery and the nearby village are believed to have been named after these wells. Takht means 'throne' and Bai stands for 'water' or 'spring' in Persian/Urdu. There is still a spring of fresh water present on the left side of this Buddhist site. The monastic complex, according to the locals, was called Takht Bai because it was built atop a hill and was also close to the spring.

The site was first mentioned by General Court, the French officer of Maharaja Ranjit Sing in 1836. Then Lieutenants Lumsden and Stoke explored it in 1852 followed by Dr H.W Bellow, Assistant Surgeon, Corps of Guides, Mardan, who examined it in 1864. From 1869-70 onwards, a large number of sculptures were recovered from here by General Maclagan's deputed men. Dr Leitner procured some sculptures through men of 'Guides' in 1870. Sergeant Wilcher excavated the Takht Bai site with a company 'Sappers and Miners' in 1871 and found innumerable sculptures -- some depicting stories from the life of Buddha, while others devotional in nature. But Dr D.B. Spooner, Curator, Peshawar Museum, was the first to have systematically excavated the site in 1907-8 in accordance with the recommendations made by Sir John Marshall, Director General, and Archaeological Survey of India. Later, Mr Hargreaves, Curator, Peshawar Museum excavated the site in 1910-11. During this attempt, the famous and beautiful emaciated Siddhartha was also discovered in three parts. A large number of stone and stucco sculpture have been excavated during excavations which are now on display in Peshawar and Mardan Museum.

About 15 per cent area of the whole site was discovered till 2001. The Department of Archaeology conducted excavations which led to the discovery of a huge block on the western and south-western sides of the existing complex in 2004-5. Some famous statues of Buddha and Gandhara art pieces were also discovered. These newly excavated remains were many times bigger than the ones discovered hitherto.

Dating back from second century B.C to 5th century A.D and having covered an area of 650 canals, the Takht Bai remains present architectural diversity comprising the Main Stupa, votive Stupa courts with chapels around them, Monastic quadrangle, Meditation cells, covered passages, the monastery, the assembly hall, the low-level chambers, the courtyard, the court of three stupas, the kitchens, the wall of colossi and the secular building.

There is a small museum where some statues and relics are on display. The Court of Stupas is surrounded on three sides by chapels. Experts say, at first, they contained single plaster statues of Buddha sitting or standing but were taken away afterwards. One can see that the monastery has cells for the monks on four sides, a verandah and an assembly hall and store rooms giving an idea of how the monks led lives in those days.

A statue of Buddha is on display in the central part of the complex. The sight of the sculpture reminded me of my visit to the site back in the 1995 when there were many such statues. I was told that some of them have been taken now either to Peshawar or kept in a safe room in the complex.

The remarkable architectural features of the site has placed it on the World heritage list by UNESCO along with the Sahri-Bahlol remains that date back to the same period, located a couple of kilometres in the south. Some historians think that the Huns from Central Asia destroyed the Takht Bai's Complex along with many others on the orders of their king Mihiragula who also ordered the destruction of 1600 stupas and monasteries and the slaying of two thirds of Gandhara's inhabitants.

Sajid Gul, Assistant Director Local Government and Rural Development, remarked that despite huge funds no tourist facilities like proper rest areas are available. He was also unhappy with the dilapidated condition of the 2 kilometres road leading from the Takht Bai bazaar to the site. Site attendants guide and facilitate tourists and look after the site. Amjad Ali, a site attendant, said: "the number of tourists has declined since 9/11. Before that 10 to 20 foreign tourists would daily converge on the site but now only a few turn up in months."

Although repair work is on, but much still needs to be done for the restoration, conservation and maintenance of these precious and rare archaeological remains. An increased commitment, funding and attention on the part of the NWFP and Federal government and UNESCO are required to save the relics from further damage.

The week before last I happened upon Saeed Ur Rehman's description of his 'utopia' in these pages. I was heartened that he desires a world unfettered by artificial borders, with people left to roam the world without arbitrary lines that create insiders and outsiders. I join him in rejecting these labels, and the violence, oppression and injustice they foment. However, I was left feeling somewhat unfulfilled by his version of utopia; it didn't appeal to the idealist in me, and that is, after all the whole point of envisioning 'ideal' societies.

At the heart of utopian conceptions of the world is the central pillar of 'freedom.' Freedom, in whatever manifestation it takes, is a worthy goal to seek, but it must also be acknowledged that some freedoms are more fundamental than others. For example, as appealing as it seems, freedom of speech is nowhere near as critical to human existence as freedom of access to air, water, food and shelter. Saeed's utopia presented a simple relationship, no borders is equal to freedom, and for him this represented utopia. But freedom of movement in its ideal sense is not a primary freedom, it is a secondary freedom. Essentially, his conception of utopia doesn't deal with the problems surrounding freedom at a deep enough level...I was left asking myself a little question, that grew into a series of questions. First, it is necessary to ask the question why freedom of movement over borders is desirable in the first place...why is it such an important issue in this highly globalised, mega-market place of 21st Century capitalism...why are people so compelled to distance themselves from family, friends and loved ones? Why do people choose to uproot themselves from familiar surroundings, cultures, and languages? Why desert established social networks, social status and security for the uncertain promise of a better life somewhere else? I believe that finding answers to these questions brings us closer to a version of utopia that I could aspire to; one that diverges significantly from the idealised 'global standard' of market capitalism and liberal democracy.

It is not that capitalism doesn't work: it works perfectly; it is the inherent injustice I have problems with. No sane and compassionate society should have to operate under such exploitative and usurious economic 'Laws.' If representative democracy represents anyone, it is the capitalist class. It should be renamed as plutocracy. Neither market capitalism nor liberal democracy as idealised in contemporary Western nations are measures of 'civilisation' that should be taken seriously. It is crucial that we have more humane visions of modern life in the increasingly complex world. Unfortunately, I have neither the space in this article, nor the mental capacity to formulate such a vision. All I can do is present some bones for others to put flesh upon.

In a nutshell, my version of utopia is a world that doesn't force people to make a choice between prosperity, or even survival, and extraction from their family, culture and the surrounding social and physical environment. It is a place where it is possible to lead fulfilling, meaningful and dignified lives surrounded by people with a common worldview, language, and culture. It is a place of shared aspirations that centre upon harmonious relations and distributive justice for all members of the community; but, there is also space for individualism and expressions of free will. Most importantly, this is a reciprocal relationship built upon the foundation of accepting that individual rights are only possible because of the individual's responsibilities to family, social networks and the wider community.

My utopia has freedom from violence, access to basic human needs and free from the multiple faces of oppression. It is a world free of insecurity whether it is mental, physical or material. It is a place of acceptance, and one that gives meaning and importance to all who live there.

In my world social aspirations and social status are not determined by a monetary value. The bottom line is not measured in currency; it is measured in human dignity. Everybody works in a way that is appropriate for their interests, talents and physical abilities, all who work benefit, and above all else, all work is equally respected. People are free to choose a mixture of physical and intellectual labour, with all community members being involved at some level in the daily functioning of society, especially in the production and preparation of food, as well as the construction and maintenance of shelter and the physical environment. Factoring in seasonal variance, the average working week should be no more than 20 hours devoted to materially sustaining the individual, the family and community.

In my utopia people do not live vicariously through celluloid and sporting heroes; rather, this passive consumption is replaced by action and involvement in creative and physical activities, pursued alone or in cooperation and celebration with surrounding communities. Health, self-development and creative expression are highly valued individual and collective goals. Sincere self-expression and personal contributions are duly respected, and rarefied talent is wholeheartedly celebrated, but without idolatry, and none hold higher status than wise and gifted educators. In my world free-flowing information is used for education, not for manufacturing unattainable, essentially meaningless, desires, and feeding their flipside of insecurity and depression. People don't tune into 'infotainment' to escape the misery and drudgery of seemingly hollow lives. Rather, media and communications technologies are tools for informing the population, and enabling participatory decision-making concerning issues and problems that directly affect a person's life.

By necessity my utopia exists on a smaller scale than the current world of nation states acting as the all-powerful intermediaries between local communities and global markets. Rather, ultimate political power is widely distributed and funnelled upwards from families, to communities, to an increasing scale of geographically-defined regional representative bodies. At the apex of this political pyramid is a world council of regions that deals with issues of global importance, the most important of which is environmental sustainability. In contrast to hundreds of years of increasing global trade, my utopia stresses self-reliance and sustainability at the community and regional level for the essentials of human existence. Under this paradigm it would be ludicrous to be dependent on cash crops at the expense of food security for the local community.

Stock markets, uncontrollable international financial markets, and multinational corporate conglomerates also have no place in my utopia. The companies that survive are owned by the workers and the primary goal is to stay in business, not to maximise profits, and what profits are reaped should be redistributed to workers and society at large. I think there is a pressing need to resurrect the core of the Socialist utopia that has suffered greatly from the failed experiment with Communism.

Above all else, in my utopia the local is the primary framework for everyday life. As much as possible food and the necessities of life are produced close to where they are consumed. People's lives are grounded in their immediate environment; satisfaction with one's life is generated from their surroundings and the love, support and acceptance that come from having shared bonds. There is much less desire to escape to something better, for happiness already resides within.