As The Days Went On He Blossomed Into
Blue And White Muslin With A Scarlet Sash, Wore A Gold Embroidered
Peak And A Huge White Muslin Turban, With Much Change Of Ornaments,
And Appeared Frequently With A Great Bunch Of Poppies Or A Cluster Of
Crimson Roses Surmounting All.
His headgear was colossal.
It and
the head together must have been fully a third of his total height.
He was a most fantastic object, and very observant and skilful in his
attentions to me; but if I had known what I afterwards knew, I should
have hesitated about taking these long lonely marches with him for my
sole attendant. Between Hassan Khan and this Afghan violent hatred
and jealousy existed.
I have mentioned roads, and my road as the great caravan route from
Western India into Central Asia. This is a fitting time for an
explanation. The traveller who aspires to reach the highlands of
Tibet from Kashmir cannot be borne along in a carriage or hill-cart.
For much of the way he is limited to a foot pace, and if he has
regard to his horse he walks down all rugged and steep descents,
which are many, and dismounts at most bridges. By 'roads' must be
understood bridle-paths, worn by traffic alone across the gravelly
valleys, but elsewhere constructed with great toil and expense, as
Nature compels, the road-maker to follow her lead, and carry his
track along the narrow valleys, ravines, gorges, and chasms which she
has marked out for him. For miles at a time this road has been
blasted out of precipices from 1,000 feet to 3,000 feet in depth, and
is merely a ledge above a raging torrent, the worst parts, chiefly
those round rocky projections, being 'scaffolded,' i.e. poles are
lodged horizontally among the crevices of the cliff, and the roadway
of slabs, planks, and brushwood, or branches and sods, is laid
loosely upon them. This track is always amply wide enough for a
loaded beast, but in many places, when two caravans meet, the animals
of one must give way and scramble up the mountain-side, where
foothold is often perilous, and always difficult. In passing a
caravan near Kargil my servant's horse was pushed over the precipice
by a loaded mule and drowned in the Suru, and at another time my
Afghan caused the loss of a baggage mule of a Leh caravan by driving
it off the track. To scatter a caravan so as to allow me to pass in
solitary dignity he regarded as one of his functions, and on one
occasion, on a very dangerous part of the road, as he was driving
heavily laden mules up the steep rocks above, to their imminent peril
and the distraction of their drivers, I was obliged to strike up his
sword with my alpenstock to emphasise my abhorrence of his violence.
The bridges are unrailed, and many of them are made by placing two or
more logs across the stream, laying twigs across, and covering these
with sods, but often so scantily that the wild rush of the water is
seen below. Primitive as these bridges are, they involve great
expense and difficulty in the bringing of long poplar logs for great
distances along narrow mountain tracks by coolie labour, fifty men
being required for the average log. The Ladakhi roads are admirable
as compared with those of Kashmir, and are being constantly improved
under the supervision of H. B. M.'s Joint Commissioner in Leh.
Up to Kargil the scenery, though growing more Tibetan with every
march, had exhibited at intervals some traces of natural verdure; but
beyond, after leaving the Suru, there is not a green thing, and on
the next march the road crosses a lofty, sandy plateau, on which the
heat was terrible - blazing gravel and a blazing heaven, then fiery
cliffs and scorched hillsides, then a deep ravine and the large
village of Paskim (dominated by a fort-crowned rock), and some
planted and irrigated acres; then a narrow ravine and magnificent
scenery flaming with colour, which opens out after some miles on a
burning chaos of rocks and sand, mountain-girdled, and on some
remarkable dwellings on a steep slope, with religious buildings
singularly painted. This is Shergol, the first village of Buddhists,
and there I was 'among the Tibetans.'
CHAPTER II - SHERGOL AND LEH
The chaos of rocks and sand, walled in by vermilion and orange
mountains, on which the village of Shergol stands, offered no
facilities for camping; but somehow the men managed to pitch my tent
on a steep slope, where I had to place my trestle bed astride an
irrigation channel, down which the water bubbled noisily, on its way
to keep alive some miserable patches of barley. At Shergol and
elsewhere fodder is so scarce that the grain is not cut, but pulled
up by the roots.
The intensely human interest of the journey began at that point. Not
greater is the contrast between the grassy slopes and deodar-clothed
mountains of Kashmir and the flaming aridity of Lesser Tibet, than
between the tall, dark, handsome natives of the one, with their
statuesque and shrinking women, and the ugly, short, squat, yellow-
skinned, flat-nosed, oblique-eyed, uncouth-looking people of the
other. The Kashmiris are false, cringing, and suspicious; the
Tibetans truthful, independent, and friendly, one of the pleasantest
of peoples. I 'took' to them at once at Shergol, and terribly faulty
though their morals are in some respects, I found no reason to change
my good opinion of them in the succeeding four months.
The headman or go-pa came to see me, introduced me to the objects of
interest, which are a gonpo, or monastery, built into the rock, with
a brightly coloured front, and three chod-tens, or relic-holders,
painted blue, red, and yellow, and daubed with coarse arabesques and
representations of deities, one having a striking resemblance to Mr.
Gladstone.
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