_8th March._—Nasírabad to Banjár, six miles, and halt two days. After
passing along the north face of the fort, our route went north-east
across a jangal of tamarisk, more or less flooded by overflowings from
a great canal, which we crossed twice by rustic bridges thrown across
projecting piers formed of alternate layers of clay and fagots. The
pools between which we picked our path were swarming with wild-fowl of
all sorts. The ground of the road was so soft and deep in mud that it
was impossible to get within range of them, and we thus lost several
specimens that were quite unknown to us.
Beyond this strip of flooded jangal we turned eastward across an open
plain towards Sir F. Goldsmid’s camp, pitched close to the south of the
village of Banjár, and at half a mile or so from the tents were met by
an _isticbál_ sent out _more Persico_ from the camp. It was headed by
Major E. B. Smith (who came on yesterday from Nasírabad), preceded by
two led horses, or _yadak_, and comprised the several members of Sir F.
Goldsmid’s party, namely, Major Lovett, R.E., and Messrs Thomas, Bowyer,
and Rozario, supported by a party of thirty or forty of the Mission
servants mounted for the occasion. With them we proceeded to the camp,
and, pending the arrival of our tents, alighted under the Union Jack
flying from a movable flagstaff, guarded by a few Persian sentries, in
front of the principal tent, where we were received by Sir F. Goldsmid.
Bordering the west of our camp is a great sheet of water, crowded with
vast numbers of water-fowl of all sorts. It is formed by the overflow of
a great canal that branches off from the Kohak Rúd, or Mádariáb (which
we crossed at Kimak), and passing Banjár, goes on to Jalálabad, and
irrigates the country north of the Atashgáh ridge near Kimak.
Due west of our camp, standing out very distinctly on the plain, at
twenty miles off, is the Koh Khojah. It is an isolated black block with a
flattened summit. Major Lovett, who has visited it, tells me it is about
four hundred feet above the level of the plain, and of a hard crystalline
black rock resembling basalt. The rock is divided into two main portions
by a central gorge, and there are many ruins of mud and stone on its
summit, and also a large reservoir excavated in the rock. The lower
slopes are covered with banks of hard compact clay. Until four years ago
this hill was surrounded by a reed-grown swamp of muddy and saline water,
two or three feet deep, and was approached from the shore by passages
cut through the reeds, either on foot or on the native _tútín_ propelled
by a pole. It now stands in the midst of a desiccated marsh many miles
from the nearest water. This is owing to the droughts that have prevailed
in this country during the past three or four years, and the consequent
drying up of the marshes formed by the overflowings of the two lagoons
formed by the commingling of the waters of the several rivers that
converge to this point, as will be more fully described further on.
Koh Khojah is also called Kohi Zál or Zor and Kohi Rustam, and from
ancient times has afforded an asylum for retreat to the princes of the
country when pressed by an enemy. Malik Fata, Kayáni, when pressed by
Nadír, is said to have abandoned his capital, Calá Fata, and to have
taken refuge in this stronghold, where he held out seven years against
his troops, who were ultimately obliged to retire through pressure of
famine.
Banjár is a flourishing village of about four hundred houses. It
originally belonged to the Kayáni tribe, but during the past half century
has been in the possession of the Sárbandi, and now only contains four
or five families of the original tribe. In the possession of one of
these families, we were informed, there is a very ancient scroll or
_tumár_, in a language not now known in the country. It is supposed to
be a record of the ancient history of the people at the time when they
were fire-worshippers. It is said to be held in great estimation, and
is not to be purchased for gold; its existence indeed is denied by the
reputed owners for fear of their being deprived of it, as they were of
some valuable records in this unknown language by Prince Kamrán of Herat,
when he invaded the country in the early part of the present century. He
is said also to have carried off some illuminated tablets, and an ancient
copy of the Curán and other Arabic manuscripts.
During our stay here the weather was more or less cloudy, and a strong
north-west wind blew with unabated force. It is the most prevalent wind
in this region, and during the hot season blows without intermission for
four months, and is, from this circumstance, called _bádi sado biat_, or
“wind of a hundred and twenty (days).” It usually commences about the
_nan roz_, or vernal equinox, and continues to the end of the harvest,
or about the 20th July. To the prevalence of this wind is attributed the
absence of trees from the plain country, and this is easily understood,
unless, as in the gardens about some of the villages, the trees be
protected by walls or other means of shelter, for the violence of
the wind is of itself sufficient to wither the blossoms and destroy
fructification.
In our experience of it the wind was a cold cutting blast, with the force
of a moderate gale. It commenced on the day of our arrival at Nasírabad,
on the 7th instant, and continued daily till we crossed the Sistan border
into Lásh territory, six days later. It generally commenced soon after
sunrise, subsided somewhat at midday, and gradually recovered its force
after sunset. It owes its cause, apparently, to the rarefaction of the
atmosphere by the rays of a hot sun playing upon the vast sandy region
to the south, and its coldness at this season is derived from the snowy
mountains of Ghor, whence it proceeds. In the hot season it raises clouds
of sand, that obscure the sky and prove extremely injurious to the eyes.
From Banjár we got a very good view of the Nihbandán range of hills
bounding Sistan on the west. It is marked about midway by a deep valley
or glen, which conveys its drainage after rains into the lake north-west
of Koh Khojah. Towards the north the range appears continuous with the
Farráh mountains, and towards the south with those of Sarhadd. The
elevation of Banjár is about 1580 feet above the sea.
_11th March._—Banjár to Bolay, seven miles, and halt a day. These
villages are hardly five miles apart by the direct route, but our path
turned from north to east and then due north again, in order to avoid the
deep mud of the flooded fields, which are here irrigated by a number of
considerable canals. Within the first three miles from Banjár we forded
two, with the water up to the saddle-flaps, and crossed three others
by rustic bridges. Beyond these we crossed, in an easterly direction,
a strip of wind-scooped sand, similar to that already described on
the march to Nasírabad, and a little farther on passed the village of
Dih Afghan to our right. It is a strong little fort, surrounded by hut
settlements of the Tokhi Ghilzais and other Afghans. The fort itself is
now garrisoned by Persian _sarbáz_. Across the plain, at about three
miles to its west, is the fortified village of Shytávak. It formerly
belonged to the Kayánis, but has for the past half century been in the
possession of the Sárbandis. In the opposite direction, away to the east
and south-east, is seen a vast mass of ruins, that cover several square
miles of country. We could learn nothing more regarding them than that
they are in the vicinity of Casimabad and Iskil.
From Dih Afghan our route turned north, and at a couple of miles brought
us to Bolay, which consists of two open villages close to each other. We
passed these, and camped on a bit of hard, flat, wind-swept, and bare
ground, a few hundred yards farther on. At a few miles across the plain
to the eastward are the extensive ruins of Záhidán. They extend as far as
the eye can reach towards the north-east, and are said to be continuous
with those of Doshák, about nine miles from the Helmand.
These ruins, with those of Pulkí, Nádálí, and Pesháwarán, are the most
extensive in Sistan, and mark the sites of populous cities, the like of
which are not to be found at this present day in all this region between
the Indus and the Tigris. Their melancholy solitudes now merely exist as
the silent memorials of the destruction wrought by that “Scourge of God”
Tamerlane. This Tátár invader, whose real name was Tymúr, is said to have
been wounded in the ankle by an arrow at the siege of Doshák, from the
effects of which he became permanently lame. Hence the epithet _lang_
added to his name—_Tymúr lang_, or “Tymúr the lame,” our Tamerlane.
According to local tradition, the Tátár was so enraged at the opposition
he experienced here, that he destroyed every city in the province,
massacred its people wholesale, and reduced the whole country to a
desolate waste; and it has never since regained its former prosperity.
Kinneir, in his “Memoir of the Persian Empire,” supposes the ancient
Zarany of Ptolemy to be the same as Doshák, or more properly Dahshák, as
I was informed by a native, from the ten branches of the canal which were
at this spot taken from off the Helmand.
Zarany, or Doshák, was the residence of Yácúb bin Leth, the founder of
the Sufári dynasty of Sistan, who made it the capital of his kingdom
about 868 A.D. It was ultimately sacked and destroyed by Tamerlane in
1384 A.D., and has ever since remained a desolate waste of ruins, amongst
which stands the modern town of Jalálabad, which at the commencement of
the present century was the seat of the Kayáni chief Bahrám Khán. It
is now in the possession of the Sárbandi, Bahrám’s son and successor,
Jaláluddín, having been finally driven out of Sistan in 1839 by Muhammad
Kezá Khán, their chief, whose seat was Sihkoha.
We halted a day at Bolay, owing to some difficulty and delay on the
part of the Persian governor of Sistan in providing camels for our
party. During our stay here the north wind blew with unabated force, and
swept the ground around our camp as clean as a board. I observed that
the hard clay soil was striated in long lines from north to south by
the persistent action of this wind, and we found some plants curiously
affected in their growth by the same cause.
Some wormwood, saltworts, and a species of zizyphus, here called
_kuvár_, were all growing prostrate on the ground, with their stems and
twigs projecting only in the direction of the wind. The thorny branches
of the zizyphus formed long slender trails recumbent on the ground, and
here and there formed fresh attachments by little shoots striking root
into the soil. These plants are very sparsely scattered, and only rise
six inches or so above the surface, whilst not a single bush or tree is
to be seen on the plain.
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.
The great extent of these ruins, which cover an area of about six miles
by eight, leads to the suspicion that they are not the remains of one
and the same city existing in its entirety throughout their extent, but
rather the out-growths of successive cities rising on the ruins of their
predecessors upon the same spot. We were unable, however, to trace any
differences in the appearances of the several groups to bear out such
a suspicion. On the contrary, they so exactly resemble each other that
any one group may be taken as representative of the others. In this view
these ruins do certainly represent a most flourishing period in the
history of this country.
The ruins of Pesháwarán resemble in point of architecture those of
Záhidán and Calá Fata, but differ from those of Kaikobád, which are
evidently of much older date, though amongst them are found some
structures dating from the Arab period.
On crossing the Naizár we passed out of Sistan, or the district known
by that name, in the restricted application of the term current at the
present day. Its limits have been already mentioned, and I may here state
that it is about sixty miles broad from north to south, and about one
hundred long from east to west. Within this area the general aspect of
the country is a wide undulating plain of a light sandy soil, singularly
bare of trees, except on the borders of the two lagoons, which are
fringed with forests of the tamarisk, whilst the swamp connecting them is
crowded with a dense growth of tall reeds.
Surrounded as it is by desert wastes, this district of Sistan presents
a very populous and highly cultivated area. Its territory is divided
between four distinct tribes, who are now under the rule of the Persian
possessors of the country since their occupation of it seven years ago.
Previous to 1865, when this district formed an integral portion of the
Afghan kingdom, these several tribes were constantly warring against each
other, and encroaching upon the lands of the weaker party.
The tribes above alluded to are the Sistani, Sárbandi, Shahrki, and
Baloch. They are distributed very unequally over about sixty villages,
averaging 250 houses each, and their dates of settlement in the country
also differ very considerably.
The most ancient inhabitants, and apparently the original possessors of
the country, are included in the Sistani tribe, which at the present
day consists of aboriginals and representatives of various tribes, who
have been thrown together and incorporated here by successive waves of
conquest and revolution during many centuries. Much obscurity hangs over
the original Sistani; but their ruling family have long been known,
under the appellation of Kayáni, as the hereditary princes of the
country, and are supposed to trace their descent to the ancient kings
of the period when the seat of government of the Persian empire was
in Sistan. Tradition is at variance on this point, as I was informed
by an intelligent native of the country. According to the commonly
accepted account, the Kayáni family are the lineal descendants of
Kaikobád, the founder of the Kayáni dynasty in the romantic age of Zál
and his son Rustam, of whose birth and principal exploits Sistan was
the theatre. Other accounts assign their descent to Yácúb bin Leth, the
potter of Sistan, who, turning the times to his own advantage, usurped
the government of Sistan, and in 868 A.D. founded the Sufári dynasty,
which was finally extinguished in the person of Kulif, when Mahmúd of
Ghazni conquered the country towards the close of the tenth century.
Be this as it may, the Kayánis were the dominant family in Sistan up
to the commencement of the present century, and their chiefs figure
prominently in the history of Khorassan during the first half of the
preceding century, memorable for the decline and fall of the Persian
empire of the Suffairs, the invasion and devastation of their country
by the Afghans under Mír Mahmúd, the son of Mír Wais, Ghilzai, and the
rise of the conqueror, Nadír Sháh, whose death in 1747 was followed by a
redistribution of the map of Central Asia between the Cajars in Persia,
the Uzbaks in Bukhára, and the Afghans in Khorassan.
It was during the revolution attending the revolt of the Ghilzais
and Abdalis, and the establishment of Kandahar as an independent
principality, under their leader Mír Wais, Ghilzai, in 1810, that the
Kayáni chiefs of Sistan, who had heretofore held their lands and titles
under firmans from the Persian kings, first threw off their allegiance to
the throne of Persia. During the successive invasions of Persia through
Sistan in 1720-21, under Mír Mahmúd, the son and successor of Mír Wais,
the Kayáni chief Malik Asadullah was the independent ruler of Sistan,
and he accorded the invading Afghans an unopposed passage through his
territory.
About this period a cousin of the Sistan chief above named, one Malik
Mahmúd, profiting by the confusion of the times, issued from his
desert-girt home, and quickly seized the adjoining district of Khorassan.
Having secured Gháyn and Tabbas and Herat, the successful adventurer next
captured Mashhad and subdued Nishabor and Sabzwár, at the very time that
his Afghan namesake and rival was prosecuting his successes against the
Persian capital.
The unprecedented success of the Afghans now roused the jealousy of
the Kayáni, who, fearful of their ascendancy, hurried to Ispahán to
support his lawful sovereign against the invader. His loyalty, however,
was not proof against the ready concessions of the Afghan; and Malik
Mahmúd being acknowledged by Mír Mahmúd in the independent possession of
his conquests, hastened back to Mashhad and assumed the crown and title
of the Kayáni. His enjoyment of the purple was neither long continued
nor peaceful; for he was presently opposed by the rising soldier Nadír
Culi, and, after successive contests, was finally captured by him and
executed, together with a younger brother named Muhammad Ali, at Nishabor
in 1727. On this, Nadír reinstated the former chief, Malik Asadullah,
in the government of Sistan, and with him sent back Mahmúd’s family and
belongings to their homes.
Asadullah shortly after died, and was succeeded by his son Malik Husen.
He soon followed the example of his neighbours, and revolted. Nadír then
appointed his own nephew, Ali Culi, governor of Sistan, and he proceeded
with a strong force to subdue the refractory chief. On his approach,
Malik Husen and his brothers, Fath Ali and Lutf Ali, took refuge in the
island-fort of Koh Khojah, and there held out against Nadír’s troops for
several years. They were finally conciliated, and took service under
Nadír, but not until their country had been devastated, and their own
power thoroughly broken by the importation from Persia of the Sárbandi
and Shahrki tribes as feudal colonists.
On the death of Husen, his son, Malik Sulemán, succeeded to the chiefship
of the Kayáni family, but his authority was of a doubtful nature, and
limited to the north-eastern portion only of the district. On the
partition of the empire following on Nadír’s death in 1747, Sistan
was incorporated in the Durrani monarchy founded by Sháh Ahmad, and
Malik Sulemán was recognised as its hereditary chief, and his position
strengthened by a matrimonial alliance with the new king, the Afghan
sovereign taking his daughter to wife.
The alliance does not appear to have brought any material advantage to
the position or authority of the Kayáni family, and in the intestine
struggles constantly waged between them and the new settlers they
gradually succumbed to their superior force. Sulemán was succeeded by his
son, Malik Bahrám, at Jalálabad. He was so pressed by the Sárbandi and
Shahrki, that he called in the aid of ’Alam Khán, Nahroe Baloch, whom
with his following he settled at Kimak, Burj ’Alam, &c., as a check upon
the encroachments of his enemies. This measure appears to have given
offence to Sháh Tymúr, the son and successor of Sháh Ahmad; for on his
accession to the throne of Afghanistan in 1773, he deposed the Kayáni,
Malik Bahrám, and in his place appointed the Shahrki chief, Mír Bey,
governor of Sistan. This chief was killed four years later in one of
the many faction fights that seemingly form a part of ordinary life in
Sistan, and Bahrám was then restored to the chiefship and government of
Sistan, in subordination to the Afghan governor of the adjoining district
of Lásh or Hokát.
This arrangement did not work well, and the Shahrki soon rose in
revolt against Bahrám’s authority, and Tymúr in consequence sent a
force of Afghans under Barkhurdár Khán, Achakzai, to reduce them, a
task he performed very effectually, as has been before mentioned, by
the victories of Kandúrak and Mykhána. After this, weakened as they
already were by the encroachments of their enemies, the Kayáni influence
rapidly declined, and was at length reduced to a nullity by the family
dissensions that led to the estrangement of Bahrám from his son and
successor, Jaláluddín. Malik Jaláluddín was the last of the Kayáni family
who exercised any authority in Sistan. He appears to have been a very
dissolute character, and was in 1838 expelled the country by the Sárbandi
chief Muhammad Razá. Kamrán, the Herat prince, reinstated him in the
following year, but he was again driven out, and for a while found an
asylum with the chief of Ghazn. Hence he returned some years later to
Sistan in beggared circumstances, and died in obscurity, leaving a son
named Nasír Khán, and his son Azím Khán is now in the service of the
Persian governor of the country. Malik Jaláluddín had a brother named
Hamza Khán. He left three sons—namely, Abbas now residing in Jalálabad,
Gulzár in Bahrámabad, and Malik Khán in some other village. These are the
representatives of the ancient Kayáni family, and, viewing their present
condition, one may truly exclaim, “How the great have fallen!” Their
immediate relations hardly number twenty families, and the whole tribe
does not exceed a hundred families, who are scattered about the district,
mostly in very poor circumstances.
The rest of the Sistan tribe were formerly the serfs or subjects of the
Kayáni, and they now hold the same position under the other dominant
tribes of the country. They are styled generally _dihcán_, or peasant,
and comprise representatives of various tribes, such as Tátárs, Mughals,
Turks, Uzbaks, Kurds, Tajiks, converted Gabars, and Persians. They are
principally employed in agriculture, cattle-herding, fishing and fowling,
and the various handicrafts, and are a very poor and simple people. They
are said to be deficient in courage and energy, and in respect to their
military qualities, are held in little estimation by the other tribes
amongst whom they are distributed as vassals. Those of them we saw in
our progress through the country appeared an inferior race physically,
and had sallow unhealthy complexions.
The Sárbandi and Shahrki are described as divisions of the Nahnai tribe,
and their settlement in Sistan dates only from the time of Nadír Sháh, by
whose orders they were transported hither from Burujurd near Hamadán. The
Sárbandi are reckoned at ten thousand families in Sistan, and the Shahrki
at an equal number, scattered over Sistan, Ghazn, Kirmán, and Lár.
The Sárbandi were at first settled at Sihkoha, Warmál, Chiling, and other
villages on the south of the _hámún_, under their chief Mír Cambar. He
was succeeded by his son Mír Kóchak, and he by his son Muhammad Razá,
in whose time the tribe doubled their possessions by encroachments upon
the lands of the Kayáni. Mír Khán succeeded his father, Muhammad Razá,
and was in turn succeeded by his eldest son, of the same name, about the
year 1836. This Muhammad Razá drove Malik Jaláluddín, Kayáni, out of
Sistan, and becoming independent at Sihkoha, was recognised as the most
influential of the local chiefs in the country.
These were Ali Khán of Chakansúr, son of Khán Jahán Khán, Sanjarání
Baloch, a dependant of Kandahar, Háshim Khán, Shahrki, at Dashtak, and
Dost Muhammad Khán, Nahroe Baloch, at Burj ’Alam, both dependants of
Herat.
In the beginning of 1844, after the evacuation of Afghanistan by
the British, Kuhndil Khán, the chief of Kandahar, returned to his
principality from his retreat at Tehran, and on his way through Sistan
received the submission of the Sárbandi, Shahrki, and Nahroe chiefs above
mentioned. In the following year he annexed the Garmsel as far as Rúdbár
to Kandahar, and was in treaty with Muhammad Razá for a more perfect
establishment of relations. The negotiations were prolonged for a couple
of years, and then fell through owing to the death of that chief in 1848.
Kuhndil was at this time diverted from his projects against Sistan by the
menacing attitude of Yár Muhammad at Herat, and in the meantime Muhammad
Razá was succeeded at Sihkoha by his son Lutf Ali as a dependent of Yár
Muhammad, who supported him with a contingent of Herat troops and Afghan
officers posted at Sihkoha, Dashtak, Burj ’Alam, Kimak, and other places.
The deceased chief’s brother Ali Khán, who was in the service of Kuhndil
at Kandahar, in the following year set out for Sistan to oust his nephew,
and furnished by Kuhndil with an army of six thousand men under the
command of his brother Muhrdil for the purpose. The army was joined by
the Nahroe and Sanjarání Baloch chiefs with their respective contingents
at the Rúdbár frontier; Sihkoha was captured, Lutf Ali seized and
deprived of sight, and his uncle, Ali Khán, established in the government
of Sistan on the part of Kuhndil Khán, who then deputed his son Sultán
Ali to the Persian court to secure the Sháh’s approval and support.
Yár Muhammad, finding the country thus taken from him, set out from Herat
to attack Ali Khán; but on arrival at Lásh was suddenly taken seriously
ill, and died on the way back to his capital in 1851.
In the confusion following on this event, Ali Khán threw off his
dependence on Kandahar, and sent an envoy to the court of Persia with
a tender of allegiance. His messenger was well received, and returned
with presents and the Persian flags as an emblem of his allegiance. Ali
Khán hoisted the flag on his fort at Sihkoha, and then sent his sons
as hostages to Mashhad in 1853. A few years later, after the siege of
Herat by the Persians, Ali Khán proceeded to Tehran, where he met with
a distinguished reception, and his loyalty was further secured by a
matrimonial alliance with the royal family, a daughter of the Prince
Bahrám, the Sháh’s cousin, being given to him in marriage.
In the spring of 1858, he returned to Sistan with his Persian bride
and a military escort; but the new regime introduced by him, and the
interference of his Persian companions in the internal affairs of the
country, soon led to a general revulsion of feeling against him and his
foreign supporters; and a plot, headed by Táj Muhammad, the brother of
the deposed Lutf Ali, was formed to get rid of him and his myrmidons.
The Sistani were raised in revolt, and, in a night attack upon Sihkoha,
Ali Khán was surprised and slain by his nephew Táj Muhammad. His Persian
supporters were then driven out of the country, and Táj Muhammad assumed
the government as an independent chief in 1858. The Persian Government
was restrained by treaty engagements from carrying out their purposed
measures of retribution; and Táj Muhammad on his part expressing regret
for the mishap that befell the Persian princess (she was slightly wounded
in the head in her attempts to protect her husband), and pleading
excuses in justification of his conduct against his uncle, was pardoned.
Subsequently, through the medium of Mír Alam Khán, the Persian governor
of Ghazn, he was conciliated and won over to the Persian interest; and
in 1862, when the late Amir Dost Muhammad Khán advanced against Herat,
he, fearful of losing his independence, and preferring allegiance to
a distant master than to one close at hand, appealed to the Persian
Government for protection, as a Persian subject, against the Afghan,
and deputed his brother Kuhndil to the Persian court in earnest of his
professions.
In the following year, Dost Muhammad, having restored Herat to his
kingdom, died there on the 9th of June in a ripe old age, and was
succeeded by the appointed heir, the present Amir Sher Ali Khán. He
hastened to Kabul to take up the reins of government; but ere he reached
the capital commenced those plots and divisions that presently involved
the country in a long-foreseen anarchy and bloodshed.
At this juncture Táj Muhammad’s envoy to Tehran returned to Sistan,
accompanied by some of the principal Persian officers who, on a former
occasion, had come to the country with the late Ali Khán. The chief of
these, Sartip Sálih Muhammad, not finding the Sistani quite so amenable
as he had wished for, suddenly broke off his relations with them, and
hastily retired from the country to Ghazn, vowing condign vengeance on
the part of the Persian Government.
The Sárbandi chiefs, now fearful of the consequences, deputed one Sohráb
Bey, a trusty agent, to the Kandahar governor, deprecating his neglect of
Sistan affairs, and, as a part of Afghanistan, seeking protection against
the encroachments of Persia. This was in 1864, at a time when the new
Amir had his hands full of more important and more pressing troubles that
threatened the very existence of his throne, and the affairs of Sistan
were consequently left to adjust themselves as best they could; but an
envoy, Ahmad Khán, Kákarr, was sent with the returning agent to reassure
the people and learn the true state of affairs.
Táj Muhammad, now finding that there was no hope of support from
Kandahar, again deputed his brother Kuhudil to Tehran. He was here
detained as a hostage; and a Persian army invaded Sistan, and took
possession of the country in the name of the Sháh in 1865. In the spring
of 1867 Táj Muhammad was deposed and sent prisoner to Tehran, and Mír
’Alam Khán of Gháyn was appointed Persian governor of the district, with
the title of Hashmat-ul-Mulk.
With the deportation of Táj Muhammad ended the influence of the Sárbandi
in Sistan. Under the Persian rule the power of the local chiefs has
become centred in Sharíf Khán, the Nahroe Baloch, who has risen from an
insignificant position entirely by his Persian connection.
The Shahrki tribe, who were brought into Sistan at the same time as the
Sárbandi, were first settled under their chief, Mír Chákar, at Dashtak,
Pulkí, Wásilán, and other villages on the Hámún. Mír Chákar was succeeded
by his son Mír Beg, and he by his son Mír Háshim, in whose time their
possessions were considerably increased by encroachments on the lands of
the rapidly declining Kayáni. Mír Háshim was succeeded by his son Mír
Mahdi, and he by his brother Mír Muhammad ’Ali, who is now a hostage at
Tehran. The tribe occupy twelve or fourteen villages, and number about
three thousand families in Sistan.
By some accounts, the Shahrki are said to be a section of the Muhammad
Hassani or Mammassání division of the Brahoe tribe; and according to
local tradition, they were driven out of Sistan by the invasion of Tymúr,
and sought refuge in the adjoining province of Kirmán. Tymúr’s son and
successor, Sháh Rúkh, collected their scattered families, and located
them at Búrújard, near Rúm, in Persia, where they were known by the
name of Sháh Rukhi or Shahrki. From this they were resettled in Sistan
and the adjoining districts of Kirmán and Lár by Nadír Sháh, at the
same time that he transported the Sárbandi from the same locality near
Hamadán to Sistan. The Sárbandi are supposed to be the descendants of the
ancient Persians or Gabars (or Guebres), and in Persia occupied the lands
adjoining those given to the Shahrki. Their name is said to be derived
from that of the locality occupied by them.
Such, in brief, is a history of the several tribes now occupying Sistan.
Their rival interests, and their constant struggles for ascendancy one
over the other, sufficiently account for the anarchy and confusion that
have characterised the normal condition of this country during the past
century, or, in other words, since the death of Sháh Ahmad, Durrani. The
decline of the government, commencing in the reign of his successor,
Sháh Tymúr, and ending in its overthrow in the succeeding reign of Sháh
Zamán, and the subsequent transference of the rule from the Saddozais to
the Bárakzais in the time of Sháh Mahmúd, was not without its influence
on the political condition of Sistan; and we find that the province,
which was incorporated as an integral part of the empire established by
the founder of the Durrani monarchy, gradually, on the decline of the
paramount power, lapsed from its allegiance, and, perforce of the local
circumstances at the time determining, became divided into more or less
independent chiefships, which, for the furtherance of their individual
interests, attached themselves as dependencies of the nearest provincial
governments, of Kandahar on the one side and Herat on the other. And
such continued to be the political relations of the country until the
Persian occupation of Herat in 1856. After the ensuing Persian war, and
the evacuation of Herat territory by the Persians, the Sistan chiefs
continued more or less under the influence of Persian intrigue, a course
in which they were encouraged by M. Khanikoff’s mission in the spring of
1859; and the result of their dealings with the Persian court, as already
detailed, ended in their invasion and annexation of the country in 1865.
Of the ancient history of Sistan we have no connected record. Such
notices of the country as are met with in the pages of various authors
are very few, scant in detail, and separated by wide intervals of time.
Malcolm’s “History of Persia” contains a full account of the early
Persian dynasties, and the country of Sistan, or Zabulistan, as it was
also called, is frequently mentioned as the theatre of their military
exploits.
For the Persians the country has a peculiar interest, as being the
birthplace and home of their legendary hero, the renowned Rustam, son
of Zál, the fifth in descent from the Persian Jamshed by a princess of
Sistan. Zál, says the authority above quoted, married Rúdábah, daughter
of Mehráb, king of Kabul, and of the race of Zohák. Their offspring,
Rustam, was cut out of her side when stupefied by drugs, according to
the secret imparted to Zál by the Griffin of Elburz. The romance of this
hero’s life is as varied as it is improbable, and affords an untiring
theme of delight to the Persian story-teller and his auditors. His fame
is the subject of song in every village, and there is hardly a hill in
the country that does not possess a spot sanctified by tradition as the
scene of some of his many exploits and feats against dragons, demons, or
genii, and other such figures of fancy.
Later mention of this country is found in the pages of the historians of
Alexander’s Asiatic conquests, under the name of Drangia, so designated
from its principal river, the Drangius, now called Helmand or Hermand,
whose course Alexander followed in his progress eastward, probably
through the Garmsel. On the return march of the Macedonian army from
India in 325 B.C., this country was traversed by the force under the
command of Craterus.
The Rev. J. Williams, in his “Life of Alexander the Great,” following
the account by Arrian, states that whilst Alexander himself took the
route parallel to the littoral, and the fleet voyaging under command of
Nearchus, which led across the desert of Gedrosia, the modern Makrán, to
Carmania or Kirmán, Craterus had already proceeded “with the elephants,
the heavy baggage, the feeble, the old, and the wounded, and with three
brigades of the phalanx,” towards the same destination, through the
fertile countries of the Arachosi and Drangæ.
In this march it is probable that Craterus followed the ancient caravan
route between India and Persia, which led from Dehra Gházi Khán on the
Indus, to Kirmán and the Persian Gulf by the Tal Chhotiyálí road to
Peshín and Kandahar, and thence by the valley of the Helmand to Sistan,
and onwards by the Nihbandán road to Kirmán. At this period the country
must have been in a much more flourishing and populous condition than it
is now.
The rule of the Greek satraps was followed, 226 A.D., by the dynasty of
the house of Sassan, which commenced with the reign of Ardshir Bábakán.
Under the Shapori sovereigns of this family, Sistan appears to have been
a flourishing seat of the Zoroastrians, since most of the coins now found
in the country belong to this period.
The Sassan dynasty fell before the rising power of the Arabs, and ended
with the death of Yezdijird, the last sovereign of that house, who,
fleeing to Sistan before the conquering Arabs, ultimately escaped to
Marv, where he was murdered, 651 A.D., by a miller with whom he had taken
refuge. During the two centuries of Arab rule, Sistan appears to have
attained to the highest state of prosperity, and to have enjoyed a stable
and just government, as is evidenced by the character and vast extent of
the ruins pertaining to that period.
About the middle of the ninth century the Arab rule in Sistan was
replaced by that of the Sufári dynasty, of native origin. According
to Malcolm, to whose excellent History I am indebted for most of my
information on this interesting country, the founder of this dynasty,
Yácúb bin Leth or Lais, belonged to a family of potters of Sistan. In
youth he abandoned the peaceful calling of his ancestors for the more
exciting life of a robber, and in 851 A.D. took service with one Sálih
bin Nasr, who had usurped the government of Sistan. Proving a man of
parts, he was appointed by Sálih’s successor, Dirham bin Nasr, to the
command of his army, and soon made use of his position to usurp the
government for himself, establishing his capital at Doshák. In 868 he
added Herat, Kirmán, and Shiraz to his possessions, and a couple of years
later extended them to Kabul in one direction, and Nishabor in the other.
He was succeeded by his brother, Amir bin Leth, who was made prisoner by
the Tátár Ismáil Sámání, and sent to Baghdad, where he was executed in
901. With him fell the Sufári dynasty, but his descendants continued to
hold Sistan till it was taken from Kulif, the last prince of the Leth
family, by Mahmúd of Ghazni, towards the close of the century.
In Mahmúd’s time, Sistan, as described by Ibn Haukal, was a most
flourishing country, and the lower course of the Helmand as far as Búst
presented an uninterrupted succession of populous cities, whilst the
country as far as Zirrah was intersected by numerous great canals that
rendered the land proverbially fertile. At this period, too, Sistan was
noted for the existence of a gold-mine, which, after yielding a rich
store of the precious metal for many years, was suddenly swallowed up and
its site obliterated by an earthquake. Tradition points to no particular
spot as the locality of this mine, and at this distance of time, with
our scant knowledge of the country, it is useless to speculate on the
subject, particularly if we bear in mind the fact that the limits of
Sistan in the time of Mahmúd, were far more extensive than they are at
the present day.
At that period, now eight centuries ago, Sistan comprised all that
extensive region drained by the several rivers that converged and emptied
their waters into the _hámún_ or “lake basin” of Sistan and its accessory
the marsh of Zirrah. According to Ibn Haukal, who wrote in the reign of
Mahmúd, this extensive region was known under the names of Zabulistan
and Sijistan or Sistan, and comprised the whole of the southern portion
of the present kingdom of Afghanistan, or all that portion not included
within the limits of Kabulistan. It included the districts of Ghazni,
Síbí, Shál, Mastung, and Peshín to the east and south, and those of
Zamíndáwar, Ghor, Gháyn, and Nih on the north and west.
The term Sijistan or Sistan applied commonly to the whole of the region
thus bounded, and Zabulistan was restricted to its northern parts,
whilst the southern were also known by the name of Nímroz, and included
the modern Sistan, which represents but a trivial portion of the area
included in the Sakistan of the Greeks and the Sagestan or Sijistan of
the Arabs. Further, the whole Sijistan country is included in the more
extensive region of Khorassan, which comprises all that elevated mountain
tract bounded by the valley of the Indus on the east, and that of the
Oxus on the north, the salt desert of Kirmán and Yazd on the west, and
the sea of Omán on the south.
At the present day it is difficult to define the precise limits of
Sistan. The old name of Sagestan or Sijistan it appears applied to the
great basin of the hydrographic system that centred in the ancient lakes,
and which is represented by the plains of Kandahar and the valleys
connected with it through their drainage. It extends eastward to the
vicinity of Ghazni, and southward to the plain of Shorawak; whilst to
the northward it includes the valleys of the Argandáb and Upper Helmand,
called Zamíndáwar, and farther westward those of the Farráh river and the
Harút Rúd or Adraskand, which drains the Sabzwár, or, as it is commonly
written, Ispzár district.
The modern name of Sistan is applied only to the actual bed of the former
lake that at some remote prehistoric period occupied the south-west
portion of Afghanistan, and is besides limited _par excellence_ only to a
small portion of its area in the immediate vicinity of the present lakes
or lagoons formed by the disemboguement of the several rivers converging
to this point.
Of this limited area, called _hámún_, the boundaries have already been
described. The more extended area of the great lacustrine basin is
clearly marked by a bold coast-line of desert cliffs. Those on the north
and east borders are formed by the prolongation westward of the Kandahar
steppes, and on the south and south-east by the cliffs and bluffs of
the great sandy desert of Balochistan, whilst to the south and west
its borders are formed by the hill-skirts of the Sarhadd and Bandán
mountains respectively.
The coasts thus indicated present a very irregular outline, ranging
from two hundred to four hundred feet above the level of the lacustrine
basin, and towards the west and north form long estuaries represented by
the valleys of the Helmand, Khásh, Farráh, and Harút rivers. The basin
itself extends upwards of two hundred miles from north to south, that is,
from the Farráh mountains to those of Sarhadd, and presents a remarkable
variation in the level of its surface. Its northern portion, occupied by
the two lagoons formed by the convergence in it of the several rivers
draining thereto and the intervening and surrounding swamps, is separated
from the southern and much lower portion by a tract of elevated waste
land, which presents a coast-line similar to that bounding the whole
basin, but of much inferior elevation.
Where we saw this coast-line, in the vicinity of Burj Alam, it evidently
formed the boundary of a long-deserted delta of the Helmand, the present
_hámún_, and stretched across the plain from east to west, presenting an
irregular front of clay banks and bluffs from sixty to eighty feet high.
Towards the west the land sinks to a wide channel called Sarshela, or
“head ravine.” It runs north and south from the _hámún_ near Koh Khojah
to the _Godi Zirrah_, or “Zirrah hollow,” which occupies the southern
portion of the lacustrine district.
In seasons of excessive flood, when the lagoons and surrounding swamps
are overfilled, the superfluous waters find a passage through the
Sarshela to the Godi Zirrah, the lowest hollow of which is, except in
seasons of drought, occupied by a swamp similar to that of the Koh
Khojah. We did not visit the Zirrah hollow, and consequently did not see
the swamp said to exist there. We were informed, however, that, like the
swamps in the northern portion of the basin, it had been dried up owing
to the drought of the last four years.
The desiccation of these swamps and the reduced size of the existing
lagoons may point to the manner in which the original lake diminished
in size and gradually dried up, the main cause in both cases being a
diminished volume in the streams terminating at this point. In the
general aspect of the country we observed no indications of any cataclysm
by which the waters were drained off from this basin. The deposits
brought down by the Helmand and other rivers entering at the north of the
lake raised its bed in this direction, and displaced the waters farther
south; and it is not difficult to understand how they might have been
entirely dissipated by the process of evaporation, for they appear to
have been spread over the surface in a shallow sea, without the aid of
other causes that have obtained during the historic period.
Were the Helmand and other rivers allowed to empty into the _hámún_ the
full volume of their floods, they would again cover the whole basin with
an uninterrupted sheet of water bordered by swamps, as is now the case in
a small portion only of its northern part, but subject to variation in
extent and depth by the effects of evaporation and other causes.
It is probable that the basin has never been thus submerged during the
period that the region draining into it has been an inhabited country.
The ruins now existing on the surface of the lacustrine bed are evidence
in support, whilst the enormous quantities withdrawn for purposes of
irrigation, and the vastly increased surface thus exposed to evaporation,
aided by the drying effects of the north-west wind, which prevails here
for nearly half the year, are of themselves sufficient causes to explain
the limited area of the present lagoons and marshes. These owe their
continued existence to the hot-weather floods, otherwise the rivers are
mostly exhausted by evaporation and diversions for irrigation before they
reach the _hámún_, which, after all, can only be viewed as the receptacle
for the hot-weather floods, for during several months of the year the
rivers, with the exception of the Helmand, are completely exhausted
by the causes indicated long before they reach the _hámún_. Even the
Helmand, since the Persian occupation of the country, has been diverted
from its course at Kohak, and carried off in the Mádariáb channel
to irrigate the country south of the Koh Khojah, as has been before
mentioned.
To return, however, to the history of the country. On the downfall of
the dynasty of Mahmúd of Ghazni, Sistan, in common with the rest of
Khorassan, fell under the sway of the Afghan princes of Ghor, and under
their empire maintained its former prosperity, until the Mughal invasion
under Janghiz Khán in 1222, when it was laid waste by his destructive
hordes of Tátárs. The country had scarcely recovered from the shock of
this invasion, when (A.D. 1383) Tymúr the Tátár swept over it with his
ruthless hosts, and reduced it to a state of utter ruin and desolation.
His son, Sháh Rúkh, attempted to restore its prosperity, but effected
no more than the settlement of a few thousand Persian colonists on its
devastated lands. About eighty-five years after Tymúr’s invasion, Sistan
fell under the power of his descendant, Sultán Husen, Bykara, whose
capital was at Herat; but it appears to have been still a neglected
country, abandoned to the robber tribes thrown together here by the
convulsions of the age.
On the establishment of the Saffavi dynasty in the beginning of the
sixteenth century, Sistan became settled, and to some extent recovered
its prosperity and population gradually under native chiefs descended
from the ancient ruling family, and holding their patents from the
Persian kings of the Saffavi dynasty. But on the destruction of this
dynasty at the hands of the Afghans of Kandahar, it once more became the
sport of the conqueror; and in 1737 was reduced to its present state of
ruin and desolation by Nadír Sháh, the Afshár robber, the usurper of the
Persian throne, the invader of India, and the author of the massacre and
plunder of Delhi in 1739.
After the death of this great conqueror in 1747, the vast empire he had
brought together under his sovereignty, from the Jumna to the Tigris,
rapidly fell asunder, and, after many vicissitudes of fortune under
the conflicting aspirations and interests of a host of claimants, was
ultimately partitioned between the Cajars in Persia, the Uzbaks in
Bukhára, and the Durranis in Khorassan. The division was a natural one,
geographically, politically, and ethnologically; the elevated plateaux
and desert wastes of Persia for the Irani, the fertile plains and wide
steppes of Turkistan for the Uzbak Tátár, and the mountain fastnesses
and tablelands of Khorassan for the Afghan. Each in his own limits was
the rightful lord of the soil, and each was separated from the other by
natural geographical boundaries, which came to be recognised also as the
political limits of the three new nationalities of Central Asia.
Thus Persia, with its Shia population and organised form of government,
was separated from Afghanistan and its Sunni population, with their
patriarchal form of government, by the long strip of desert extending
from Kirmán in the south to Mashhad in the north, and forming a belt
of division between the highlands of Irani Khorassan and the more
extensive region of that name known by the national appellations of
Afghanistan and Balochistan, whilst each was separated respectively from
the slave-hunting Turkmans of Khiva and the priest-ridden Sunni bigots of
Bukhára by the saline deserts of Sarrakhs and Marv on the one side, and
the Afghan states of Bulkh and the river Oxus on the other.
In this division of Nadír’s empire, Sistan, as much from natural
geographical position as from political necessity, became incorporated
with the new kingdom of Afghanistan, and it has since continued to form
an integral part of the Durrani monarchy until its recent annexation and
occupation by the Persians.
The climate of Sistan is decidedly insalubrious, and unfavourable alike
to the healthy growth and comfort of both man and beast. The seasons are
characterised by extremes of heat and cold in the summer and winter.
Sand-storms, extremely injurious to the eyesight, are of frequent
occurrence in the spring months; whilst in the autumn a hot steamy
vapour, rising from the evaporation of the summer floods, pervades the
atmosphere, and to the plague of gnats and musquitoes adds the pestilence
of malarious fevers.
Sheep and cows thrive upon the rank pastures bordering the marshes; but
horses and buffaloes cannot live in the country for several months of the
year, owing to the worry of myriads of gnats and stinging flies.
The natives of the country are of inferior physical development, and
the common people remarkable for their repulsive features and personal
untidiness. Most of the people we saw about the villages had unhealthy
sallow complexions; and I observed a marked prevalence of chlorotic
anœmia from chronic disease of the spleen. The common diseases of the
country are fevers, ophthalmic affections, rheumatism, and small-pox.
The principal employments of the people are agriculture and breeding
cattle. Some families are occupied solely as hunters, fowlers, and
fishermen, and others live exclusively by handicrafts, as weavers,
cobblers, potters, &c. During the cold season immense numbers of
wild-fowl, swans (here called _cú_ or _ghú_), and pelicans are trapped
and shot for their feathers and fat, which fetch a high price in the
Kandahar market.
The language current in Sistan is a mixed dialect of Persian, in which
are found many Pushto, Baloch, and Turki words; but amongst themselves
the several tribes speak their own mother tongues, as the Afghans Pushto,
the Baloch Balockki, the Sárbandi and Persians Persian, and so on.
Our short stay in this country and the unfavourable conditions of our
relations with the people, prevented our learning much concerning their
manners and customs or their language and its affinities.
Some native words applied to localities from some distinguishing
characteristic appear to belong to an ancient stock, and afford a field
for speculation to the philologist. Such are Biring Hissár, or “the fort
on a mound” (Arabic, _hissár_ = fort, and Sistani, _biring_ = mound);
Biring Kaftár, or “the mound of hyænas” (Persian, _kaftár_ = hyæna);
Daki Tír, or “the arrow (straight) ridge” (Sistan, _dak_ = ridge, and
Persian, _tír_ = arrow, and, metaphorically, straight); Daki Dela, or
“the cyperus reed-ridge,” (Pushto, _dela_ = cyperus grass); Chakná Súr,
or “the fort of birds” (Brahoe, _chak_ = bird; _ná_, sign of genitive;
and Arabic _súr_ = a fort), so named probably from its situation at the
spot where wild-fowls and swans have from time immemorial been yearly
snared and hunted; Sih Koha, or “the three hills” (Persian, _sih_ =
three, and _koh_ = hill); Chilling or Shilling, (the place of) “bursting”
or “overflowing,” probably from its situation where the _hámún_ or lake
overflows and bursts its barriers (Brahoe, _chilling_ = bursting, and
_shilling_ = overflowing); Gódor “the hollow” (Persian, _god_ = lap or
hollow), &c. Other suggestive words, the names of villages in Sistan,
are Bolay, Warmál, Banjár, Iskil, Khadang, Kechyán, Laff, Kimak, Shitak,
Pulkí, Jazínak, Tiflak, Ishkinak, Sadkí, &c. Many villages are named
after their founders, and generally they are found to occupy the sites
of more ancient towns. These modern names in many cases serve to fix the
dates of the new settlements or the restoration of old ruins.
For example, the present Jahánábád, built on the site of Biring Hissár,
is named after Khán Jahán, Sanjarání Baloch, who restored the ruins of
the old fort and repeopled the town at the commencement of the present
century. Similarly Burj ’Alam, the “tower” or “citadel” built by ’Alam
Khán, Nahroe Baloch, also about the commencement of the present century;
Jalálabad, amongst the ruins of Doshák, named after Jaláluddín, Kayáni;
Bahrámabad, named after Malik Bahrám, the Kayáni chief during the last
quarter of the preceding century; Sharíf Khán, the village built by
Sharíf Khán, Nahroe Baloch; Nasírabad, the town of Nasír Khán, Kayáni;
Burj Sarband, the citadel or castle of the Sárbandi; Burj Afghan, the
castle of the Afghans. Záhidán retains the name of the ruins amongst
which it is situated. The name means “monks,” and is the Persian plural
of the Arabic _záhid_, a monk; perhaps in the Arab period it contained a
monastery or Muhammadan college, and hence the name.
The study of these local names is full of interest, and not without
advantageous results. I believe if the inquiry were fully followed up,
it would confirm the statements of history, and prove that the present
population are, with the exception of the Kayáni and their Sistani
subjects, only immigrants since the period of Nadír’s usurpation of the
throne of Persia; and further, the inquiry, by tracing the genealogy and
traditionary accounts of the chiefs after whom the villages are named,
would enable us to form a tolerably correct idea of the progress of the
population of the country since the period of its devastation by the
Tátárs under Tymúr, and serve as a guide to the illustration of its local
history and politics.