In 1978, as the world began to turn a hesitant gaze towards the future, I found myself entranced by the allure of the past, embarking on an adventure known as the “Hippie Trail”. My journey began in Mashhad, a holy city of Iran, bejeweled by its glorious past, with towering architecture that embarked tales of faith, conquest, and resilience. The city teemed with an alluring sense of mysticism, its streets echoing with tales spun from the looms of time, spiced with fragrances that whispered of rich Saffron fields and serenaded by the soft chants emanating from the holy shrine of Imam Reza. Capturing the essence of Mashhad in my journal, I traveled through a tapestry of experiences, each more engaging than the last.
Crossing the rugged terrain and the historical “Silk Road”, my journey led me to the gateways of Herat, Afghanistan. A city cloaked in an ethereal charm, peopled by individuals whose eyes held the captivating sparkle of hospitality and warmth. Against the backdrop of the grandiose Herat Citadel, life pulsed with an undeniable vigor. The buzz of the marketplaces, the intricate artistry of the Friday Mosque, the tranquil reflection of time in the azure tiled minarets, and the gruff yet welcoming voices of the minstrel spinning age-old tales translated the pulse of everyday Afghan life. Each captivating morsel of experience earned a place in my journal – a testament to the timeless journey spanning cultures and terrains.
