Saving the threatened languages is a tribute to humanity’s shared heritage
| T |
he mountains of the majestic Hindu Kush—one of the most linguistically rich and diverse regions on the planet—are home to a remarkable array of languages and cultures. Its snow-clad peaks, sparkling lakes, shimmering rivers, gleaming glaciers and lush green meadows and forests shelter ancient traditions and languages that have echoed through these mountains for centuries.
Nestled north of Madyan town in upper Swat, lies the serene mountain village of Bishigram along the Ulal River. This village is the last refuge of a dying language—Badeshi. Only three native speakers remain. All aged over 50, they carry with them centuries of history, traditions and folklore, destined to vanish with them, as no one else in the world can speak their language.
Bishigram is a remarkable hotspot of linguistic diversity. Despite its small size, it is home to multiple languages and cultures. Oshuji is another language spoken in the village, though locals say no more than a few dozen speakers remain. Beyond Bishigram, Oshuji survives among only around 2,000 native speakers worldwide, confined largely to the Swat and Kohistan districts. Like Badeshi, its history, culture and folklore now rest in the fragile hands of a dwindling community.
Torwali is yet another endangered language spoken by many of the villagers of Bishigram. Rich in traditions, folklore and cultural heritage, it is primarily spoken in the Bahrain and Ulal valleys of upper Swat. With no more than 150,000 native speakers, the language is vulnerable. However, unlike Badeshi and Oshuji, Torwali has seen significant preservation efforts. Some of its native speakers are working to document and write it down to safeguard it for future generations.
Further north, the remote valleys of Chitral are home to the unique Kalasha language and the Kalasha community. Classified as endangered, Kalasha has only around 4,000 native speakers left, placing it on the brink of extinction. A little further down in central Chitral, Khowar—also known as Chitrali—is spoken by approximately 300,000 people, making it comparatively more stable. The Palula language, spoken in Chitral and the Ashret Valley, is severely endangered, with only around 3,000 native speakers remaining.
Gawri, spoken in the Kalam Valley of upper Swat, has around 200,000 native speakers. Sawi, spoken in Upper Dir and Kohistan, is classified as severely endangered, with only about 10,000 speakers remaining. Dameli, spoken in Domel Valley and lower Chitral, is severely endangered, with just 5,000 native speakers. Across the border in Afghanistan’s Hindu Kush, Gawar-Bati—spoken in parts of eastern Afghanistan and Bajaur district in Pakistan—survives among only about 10,000 speakers.
In Hunza, Gilgit-Baltistan and beyond the border, Wakhi language is spoken by about 50,000 people. In eastern Afghanistan, Yidgha survives with only about 6,000 native speakers. Munji, in northeastern Afghanistan, is spoken by around 6,000 people as well. Kamkata-viri, another language of eastern Afghanistan, has approximately 25,000 speakers. Waigali, also in Eastern Afghanistan, is spoken by around 10,000 people, and Prasun, in Nuristan, Afghanistan, survives with just 3,000 native speakers.
Hindu Kush’s remarkable diversity in languages and cultures is shaped by its geography, history and centuries of human adaptation. Towering mountains, deep valleys and isolated gorges have long separated communities, allowing distinct languages and traditions to flourish without outside influence. Over time, these barriers have fostered the growth of unique cultural identities, rituals and oral histories, each finely tuned to the rhythms of local life.
Losing a language is losing an entire cultural universe, a way of seeing and understanding the world that was refined over generations in the rugged landscapes of the Hindu Kush.
The region’s strategic location, bridging South and Central Asia, has resulted in waves of migration, trade and contact with various civilisations, further enriching its cultural tapestry. In this interplay of isolation and exchange, the Hindu Kush has become a living archive of human diversity. Every valley tells its own story and every language preserves a world of knowledge.
These languages are inseparable from the local traditions, folklore and oral histories they carry. Songs, myths, rituals and everyday stories are all woven into the fabric of speech, passing knowledge of the land, seasons and community values from one generation to the next. In every word and expression, the voices of ancestors linger, preserving the collective memory of a people and the rhythm of life in the mountains.
Each of these tongues preserves the unique worldview of its speakers, encoding centuries of knowledge about the mountains, rivers, wildlife and human relationships with nature. Through them, traditional songs, rituals and folklore survive, offering insights into local wisdom, moral values and social cohesion. Losing a language is losing an entire cultural universe, a way of seeing and understanding the world that has been refined over generations in the rugged landscapes of the Hindu Kush.
Despite their richness, the languages of the Hindu Kush are disappearing at an alarming rate. Modernisation, migration and the increasing dominance of national and regional languages have gradually eroded their use, especially among younger generations. Many children now grow up speaking Urdu, Pashto or English at schools and homes, leaving little room for ancestral tongues. Economic pressures also push families to prioritise more ‘practical’ languages for education, employment and social mobility, often at the expense of native speech.
Moreover, the lack of formal documentation, teaching resources and media in these languages accelerates their decline. Over time, the elders who carry the living memory of their communities pass on, taking centuries of oral history, folklore and cultural wisdom with them, leave behind silence where vibrant tongues once thrived.
Saving these languages begins with deliberate, community-driven efforts. Teaching them to children at home and in schools; documenting oral histories and folklore; and creating written records can ensure that they survive beyond the current generation. Modern tools and technology can play a crucial role in preservation. Recording stories, producing digital dictionaries, creating audio-visual content allows even the most remote languages to reach wider audiences.
Several communities in the Hindu Kush have taken inspiring steps to preserve their languages. In upper Swat, Torwali speakers have developed textbooks, storybooks and dictionaries, teaching their language to children in schools and at home. In Chitral, the Kalasha and Palula communities have recorded their songs, folktales and oral histories, producing audio and video content to keep their tongues alive.
The Hindu Kush is a living library of human history, culture and language. Each valley, village and river carries the echoes of tongues that have survived for centuries. Every language spoken here, from the valleys of Swat to the remote reaches of Chitral and beyond, is a testament to human resilience, creativity and memory.
The writer is a freelance contributor. He can be reached at [email protected]