The chattering of women flows in the room as the soothing sounds of shells being thrown on a piece of velvet fabric drowns the noises. Children play as women gather around a small piece of hand-embroidered cloth. Barjis although a dying game, yet somehow it has managed to survive so far.
High up in the mountains they stand, elegant, poised, and indifferent to the moving time that seems to ignore them. Above the air is crisp clear with blue skies that seem to frame these ruins somehow freezing them in time and engulfing them with the magical air of antiquity.