From the Indus to the Tigris

by H. W. Bellew

Koh Khojah and the Nihbandán range are seen very distinctly to the west of our position. The first stands out boldly on the open plain, and the other bounds the prospect beyond it. The horizon towards the north is marked for many miles east and west by a continuous line of black columns of smoke curling up into the air, and forming a vast stratum of dense obscurity. The explanation of this great conflagration is that the natives at this season annually set fire to the reeds and rushes belting the borders of the pools or lagoons, in order to make way for the fresh shoots on which their cattle pasture.

From Bolay we marched twenty-eight miles in a northerly direction, and camped amidst the ruins of Silyán, which form but a small portion of the vast extent of ruins collectively styled Pesháwarán.

Our route, at first across a bare, hard, wind-swept flat, afterwards led across a rough, wind-scourged, sandy tract, evidently a deposit from floods, on which was a thin jangal of tamarisk and saltworts. Farther on, passing the ruins of a village called Kohak, we came to a thick belt of tall tamarisk jangal, and following it for half-an-hour, at about the tenth mile turned to the left into it to a large canal, now dry, where we halted for breakfast The bushes in this jangal are marked at about eighteen inches from the ground by a line of drift and shreds of dry scum of confervæ and similar water-weeds caught in the branches, and all directed from north to south, and indicating a rush of waters draining in that course.

The canal, which we were told had been dry for four years past, is called Rúdi Jahánábád, or “the river of Jahánábád.” It runs from Jahánábád on the Helmand midway between Kohak and Jalálabad, to the Koh Khojah. We found some pits of yellow putrid water in its bed. They were apparently used for watering cattle, as there were drinking troughs formed of loosely laid bricks attached to each. In the dry mud of the canal we found some large mussel shells, and its banks were overgrown with tall reeds.

Proceeding from this, and leaving behind us the village of Rindan to the right and that of Calá Nan to the left, the last habitations on this border of Sistan, we at four miles came to the Naizár, which forms the boundary between Sistan and Hokát.

The Naizár, as the name implies, is a belt of reeds and rushes. It extends for many miles east and west, and connects the pool or lagoon of the Helmand with that of the Farráh Rúd by a strip of swamp. During the past four years this swamp has been dry. Where we crossed it the belt is about six miles wide; its reeds had been cut and burnt to the stumps, and its soil was desiccated, and marked by beaten tracks over the stubble.

Previous to its desiccation this swampy tract used to be crossed by the natives on foot or on horseback, or on the tútín rafts already described, by passages cut through the dense growth of reeds. Usually the swamp was covered to the depth of a foot or so with a thick muddy water, undrinkably saline; but in flood seasons its height rose to three or four feet and inundated the country to the south. In some parts where we crossed the Naizár the reeds had not been cut or burnt, and they rose to a height of ten or twelve feet in impenetrable patches. Away to the right of our path tall pillars of smoke rising from the burning reeds filled the sky with dense clouds of obscurity. Vast herds of horned cattle, described as of a superior breed, are fed on the young shoots that sprout from the burnt-down reeds.

Beyond the Naizár we entered on a wide waste of solitude, a very embodiment of desolation and despair. The surface was everywhere thrown into small tumuli of soft spongy soil, here and there white as snow with saline efflorescence, and strewed all over with red bricks belonging to old graves, many of which were sufficiently preserved to be readily traceable. Going across this weird tract in a north-westerly direction, we presently came to the wilderness of ruins known as Pesháwarán, and marching amongst them for five or six miles, camped near a cluster called Silyán, with the fort of Pesháwarán bearing due west at about three miles. Beyond the fort is seen a solitary, low, round-backed hill called Kohi Ghúch, in which sulphur is said to be found. To the south of this hill is the lake or lagoon of the Farráh Rúd, which empties into it on the east side of the hill, whilst the Harút Rúd empties into it on the west side of it. The Naizár, which we crossed midway on this day’s march, extends up to this lake along the southern border of the Pesháwarán ruins. In the opposite direction, towards the east, it extends up to the lake or lagoon of the Helmand, which is described as much larger than that of the Farráh Rúd, being about twenty miles long by twelve broad. It is formed by the convergence at one spot of the rivers Helmand, Khosh, and Khuspás. In flood seasons this lake overflows and joins that of the Farráh Rúd, over the Naizár belt we crossed, and fills the whole of the reed-grown swamp down to Koh Khojah. If in excessive flood, the waters then flow into the Sarshela, which is a channel along the western border of the ancient lacustrine basin, and thus find a passage to the Zirrah marsh, a deep hollow away to the south of Sistan. Such floods rarely occur now-a-days, and all this southern tract has been dry as long as the memory of man goes back.

We halted a day at this place, and took the opportunity to visit the fort of Pesháwarán and the other principal ruins around. It is quite beyond my power to describe these ruins, which cover many square miles of country, and are known by different names for the different groups, such as Silyán, Dih Malán, Kol Márút, &c. Suffice it to say, that the readily distinguishable mosques and colleges, and the Arabic inscriptions traceable on the façades of some of the principal buildings, clearly refer their date to the period of the Arab conquest, and further, as is evidenced by the domes and arches forming the roofs of the houses, that then as now the country was devoid of timber fit for building purposes. The most remarkable characteristic of these ruins is their vast extent and excellent preservation. The material and style of architecture are both equally good, and in some parts are so little damaged that they could be easily restored with an ordinary outlay of capital and labour. Passing amongst the ruins are the traces of several canals, and one of these, which has recently been restored by the chief of Hokát, now brings a stream of good water up to the Silyán ruins for the irrigation of some land in the vicinity, which it is proposed to cultivate so soon as the country recovers from its present state of anarchy and discord.