National Institute of Informatics - Digital Silk Road Project
Digital Archive of Toyo Bunko Rare Books

rock slopes cleft by dry and steep ravines. They reminded me curiously of the fantastically eroded
mountain gorges I had seen in the high K'un-lun range south of Khotan, or in the outermost
T'ien-shan south of Uch-Turfān. The only exception to this forbidding scenery was the little
oasis of Singal, a narrow stretch of rich village land ensconced among fruit trees and vines on
the left bank of the river. But the clouds of flies and mosquitoes that assailed us here, a plague
dreaded at most seasons throughout lower Chilās, made me glad to leave the otherwise grateful
shelter for the heat and glare of the gorge. About seven miles from the Niat–Thak junction we
sighted the deep defile of the Indus, impressive in its utter desolation. Here a steep zigzag path
led up to the curious peneplain, rising to more than a thousand feet above the Indus, that divides
the Thak and Buto-gāh valleys at their outflow. It is formed by a gently sloping gravel glacis,
entirely bare just like a typical 'Sai' at the north foot of the K'un-lun about Khotan, and shows
with remarkable clearness the effects of erosion, probably aided by wind-driven sand. Having
crossed for about two miles this strange bit of Central-Asian landscape, I had before me the deeply
hollowed mouth of the Buto-gāh valley flanked by a corresponding peneplain, even larger, on
the west. Where the Buto-gāh stream emerged from its narrow rocky gorge into a triangular
trough widening towards the Indus (Fig. 4), there nestled a small but delightfully green oasis,
the Assistant Political Agent's bungalow set in a large garden and shaded by fine trees.
Captain (now Major) C. T. Daukes, I.A., then in charge of Chilās, accorded me the kindest
welcome. It was through his care that all the preliminary arrangements with Rāja Pakhtūn Wāli
had been made, and these involved my starting for Darēl on the very next day. The time thus
left available for my halt at the chief place of Chilās was barely sufficient for the many things
that required attention after the hard travelling of the previous ten days and before I set out on
the exacting journey which was to take me over new and wholly unexplored ground. It was hence
impossible to secure leisure for ethnographical and similar local observations. In respect of the
appearance of the people I can only state that like other observers I thought the Chilāsīs generally
inferior in physique to the Dards of Gilgit, Āstōr, or Gurēz. Yet something in their expression
and bearing seemed to indicate that spirit of independence and disposition towards violence and
fanaticism with which the people of Chilās have been credited on account of their ancient predatory
habits and the former inaccessibility of their territory.¹⁴
In Captain Daukes's company I paid a visit to the fort of Chilās situated on the edge of the
plateau which overlooks from the west the mouth of the Buto-gāh Nullah, about a mile from where
its stream falls into the Indus. It is garrisoned now by a double company of Imperial Service
troops, and is adjacent to the ruined 'Bhot fort' of Chilās destroyed by the Kashmīr expedition
of 1851, and also to what was until recent times the chief village of Chilās. This visit allowed
me to obtain the clue to what otherwise might have appeared a series of very puzzling observations.
Already on first approaching Chilās earlier in the day I had noticed the big tree-lined canal running
high up above the Buto-gāh stream along the edge of the plateau which flanks its outlet on the
west. I was at once struck by the extensive cultivation terraces, now completely abandoned,
that covered the whole of the slopes below the canal line right down to the bottom of the valley
for a distance of more than a mile. On arriving at the fort and looking down from its commanding
position over the broad easy slopes which descend from the plateau edge to the Indus, I had the
same striking view before me. Over the whole of this ground there appeared wide terraces carefully
levelled for cultivation, but, except for small patches of poorly tilled land, all completely deserted
and overrun by coarse scrub and reeds. The contrast between this big area of neglected but
manifestly fertile ground, comprising many hundreds of acres, and the luxuriant growth of big