Is there a pang, a grief my wounded heart has missed?
We went on for nearly a week, trampling down the snow and not getting forward more than two or three miles a day. I was one of the snow-stampers, with 10 or 15 of my household, Qāsim Beg, his sons Tīngrī-bīrdī and Qaṃbar-i-‘alī and two or three of their retainers. These mentioned used to go forward for 7 or 8 yards, stamping the snow down and at each step sinking to the waist or the breast. After a few steps the leading man would stand still, exhausted by the labour, and another would go forward. By the time 10, 15, 20, men on foot had stamped the snow down, it became so that a horse might be led over it. A horse would be led, would sink to the stirrups, could do no more than 10 or 12 steps, and would be drawn aside to let another go on. After we, 10, 15, 20, men had stamped down the snow and had led horses forward in this fashion, very serviceableFol. 194. braves and men of renowned name would enter the beaten track, hanging their heads. It was not a time to urge or compel! the man with will and hardihood for such tasks does them by his own request! Stamping the snow down in this way, we got out of that afflicting place (ānjūkān yīr) in three or four days to a cave known as the Khawāl-i-qūtī (Blessed-cave), below the Zirrīn-pass.
That night the snow fell in such an amazing blizzard of cutting wind that every man feared for his life. The storm had become extremely violent by the time we reached the khawāl, as people in those parts call a mountain-cave (ghar) or hollow (khāwāk). We dismounted at its mouth. Deep snow! a one-man road! and even on that stamped-down and trampled road, pitfalls for horses! the days at their shortest! The first arrivals reached the cave by daylight; others kept coming in from the Evening Prayer till the Bed-time one; later than that people dismounted wherever they happened to be; dawn shot with many still in the saddle.
The cave seeming to be rather small, I took a shovel and shovelled out a place near its mouth, the size of a sitting-mat Fol. 194b.(takiya-namad), digging it out breast-high but even then not reaching the ground. This made me a little shelter from the wind when I sat right down in it. I did not go into the cave though people kept saying, “Come inside,” because this was in my mind, “Some of my men in snow and storm, I in the comfort of a warm house! the whole horde (aūlūs) outside in misery and pain, I inside sleeping at ease! That would be far from a man’s act, quite another matter than comradeship! Whatever hardship and wretchedness there is, I will face; what strong men stand, I will stand; for, as the Persian proverb says, to die with friends is a nuptial.” Till the Bed-time Prayer I sat through that blizzard of snow and wind in the dug-out, the snow-fall being such that my head, back, and ears were overlaid four hands thick. The cold of that night affected my ears. At the Bed-time Prayer some-one, looking more carefully at the cave, shouted out, “It is a very roomy cave with place for every-body.” On hearing this I shook off my roofing of snow and, asking the braves near to come also, went inside. There was room for 50 or 60! People brought out their rations, cold meat, parched grain, whatever they had. From such cold and tumult to a place so warm, cosy and quiet![1220]
Next day the snow and wind having ceased, we made an early start and we got to the pass by again stamping down Fol. 195.a road in the snow. The proper road seems to make a détour up the flank of the mountain and to go over higher up, by what is understood to be called the Zirrīn-pass. Instead of taking that road, we went straight up the valley-bottom (qūl).[1221] It was night before we reached the further side of the (Bakkak-)pass; we spent the night there in the mouth of the valley, a night of mighty cold, got through with great distress and suffering. Many a man had his hands and feet frost-bitten; that night’s cold took both Kīpa’s feet, both Sīūndūk Turkmān’s hands, both Āhī’s feet. Early next morning we moved down the valley; putting our trust in God, we went straight down, by bad slopes and sudden falls, knowing and seeing it could not be the right way. It was the Evening Prayer when we got out of that valley. No long-memoried old man knew that any-one had been heard of as crossing that pass with the snow so deep, or indeed that it had ever entered the heart of man to cross it at that time of year. Though for a few days we had suffered greatly through the depth of the snow, yet its depth, in the end, enabled us to reach our destination. For why? How otherwise should we have traversed those pathless slopes and sudden falls?Fol. 195b.
All ill, all good in the count, is gain if looked at aright!
The Yaka-aūlāng people at once heard of our arrival and our dismounting; followed, warm houses, fat sheep, grass and horse-corn, water without stint, ample wood and dried dung for fires! To escape from such snow and cold to such a village, to such warm dwellings, was comfort those will understand who have had our trials, relief known to those who have felt our hardships. We tarried one day in Yaka-aūlāng, happy-of-heart and easy-of-mind; marched 2 yīghāch (10-12 m.) next day and dismounted. The day following was the Ramẓān Feast[1222]; we went on through Bāmīān, crossed by Shibr-tū and dismounted before reaching Janglīk.
(p. Second raid on the Turkmān Hazāras.)
The Turkmān Hazāras with their wives and little children must have made their winter-quarters just upon our road[1223]; they had no word about us; when we got in amongst their cattle-pens and tents (alāchūq) two or three groups of these went to ruin and plunder, the people themselves drawing off with their little children and abandoning houses and goods. News wasFol. 196. brought from ahead that, at a place where there were narrows, a body of Hazāras was shooting arrows, holding up part of the army, and letting no-one pass. We, hurrying on, arrived to find no narrows at all; a few Hazāras were shooting from a naze, standing in a body on the hill[1224] like very good soldiers.[1225]