From the Indus to the Tigris

by H. W. Bellew

The view from this elevated position is extensive, but it is dreary in the extreme. The sandhills, backed by the bare, scorched, black mass of Khanishín, are all that the southern prospect presents, whilst to the north across the river lies the wide waste of the Khásh desert.

Below us winds the Helmand with its islets of tamarisk thickets, and beyond it spreads the alluvium, which here shifts from the left to the right bank, with its corn-fields, villages, and ruins. The chief village is Khanishín to the eastward; the hut settlement of Núnábád lies to its north, and Dewalán to its west. Further westward, near the ruins of a large fort, is the Ghulámán hamlet, and then Calá Nan (Newcastle), beyond which is the Calá Sabz ruin, so named from the green colour of the mound on which it stands. The whole of this tract belongs to the Isháczai Afghans, amongst whom are settled a few Baloch families of the Mammassání or Muhammad Hassani tribe; and even now, in its best season, wears a poverty-stricken, parched, and neglected look.

Proceeding on our way, we reached the river bank in an hour and a half, and camped midway between Calá Sabz and Tághaz, both on its opposite bank. This march resembled that from Búst to Hazárjuft. Not a sign of habitation or water exists after clearing the Landi cultivation, nor did we meet a single traveller, nor see any sign of life in all the route.

There is another road along the river bank to the midway hollow above mentioned, but it is difficult on account of ravines and the broken nature of the ground. A third route goes round by the south of Koh Khanishín, but it is six or seven miles longer, and without water.

There is no habitation on our side of the river, nor cultivation, nor even a ruin; and what could be the use of the Calá Sabz, or Green Fort, on its commanding mound immediately on the river, it is difficult to imagine. Our supplies were all brought from the villages on the opposite shore, and our people forded the river stirrup-deep, or up to the girths, in several places. The river here is about two hundred yards wide, and its banks are low and overgrown with tamarisk jangal.

The evening set in cloudy, and at nine o’clock a heavy thunderstorm with lightning and rain burst over our camp. It lasted an hour and a half, and then swept southwards to the sandy desert.

Hence we marched twenty-three miles to Mel Gudar, and camped on the river bank, near the ford of that name, just where the river makes a deep bend to the south. Our route generally was S.S.W., now and again striking the river at its successive turns or bends to the south.

For the first six or seven miles the ground was very deep in mud, owing to the rain last night. In some parts our cattle sunk up to the knee in it, and could with difficulty extricate themselves from the mire. The road from the south of Koh Khanishín here joins the main route, and as the land rises in that direction, it is dry and firm under foot.

At about half-way, we struck the river at one of its many bends, directly opposite the fort of Malakhan, which occupies a high mound overlooking its right bank. It is advantageously situated, and has a lofty citadel. During the British occupation of the country, it was held by a detachment from the Kandahar garrison. The citadel was destroyed and the fortifications demolished in 1863 by the Amir Dost Muhammad, because he found that every governor sent to this frontier post became rebellious on the strength of the fort. The place is now quite deserted, and offers another sad instance of the too truthful saying, that everybody who comes here destroys something and goes his way.

A couple of miles or so beyond this, at another bend of the river, we came to the hut settlement and cultivation of Deshú, belonging to the Isháczais. It is the only habitation we have met with on this side the river since leaving Landi. A little farther on we passed through some widespread ruins of towers and houses, the ground between which was red with bits of broken pottery. In some parts it was perfectly flat, and gave out a hollow sound as our horses tramped over the surface, conveying the idea that we were riding over concealed vaults. At two miles on from this, we camped on the river bank, opposite a dense jangal of tamarisk and willow trees.