* AS soon as Rashid Sultán had made an end of murdering and insulting my uncle and others of his near relations, he sent a messenger into Tibet bearing divers mandates. One of these was for his brother Iskandar Sultán, and ran thus: “We have conferred upon you the country of Tibet. [We desire] Mirzá Haidar and Mahmud Mirzá also to remain there.” Another was addressed to the whole army as follows: “The wives and families of all those who are in Tibet will be sold. Immediately upon the arrival of this, you are ordered to disperse and set out for Yárkand.” When these unwelcome orders arrived, I had gone to Guga, as has been said. No sooner did the soldiers learn the purport of the message than, seizing their opportunity, they set out for Yárkand; but Iskandar Sultán and my cousin Mahmud, with a handful of men, having got away [from the rest], remained behind. Two days later, I reached the stage where the men had disbanded [virán shuda]. Iskandar Sultán and my cousin Mahmud pointed out that we had better remain there that night, as many of the soldiers had fled unwillingly, and were probably only watching for an occasion to rejoin us.

There yet remained with me more than a hundred men; these were all brave soldiers or commanders of battalions, whose service was hereditary, who had often distinguished themselves in battle, and had won juldus; each one also had been born to the title of Amir. Some of them were my [foster]-brothers, and were called [by me] Kukildásh; from these I had no reason to expect opposition. But on the morrow I discovered that all my trusted men had dis­appeared, like the stars at dawn.

After the sun had lit up the earth's dark surface, Ján Ahmad Ataka, who has been already mentioned as my foster-brother, came to me with a certain Sháh Muhammad, a Kukildásh, and one of the most distinguished of that band. With them they brought five followers. Thus was the fear of loneliness dispelled. After a while, Iskandar Sultán and my cousin Mahmud came back, and having collected about fifty men we proceeded towards Máryul. It was the beginning of the season of Capricorn, and the commence­ment of winter-time. [Couplet]… The cold was so intense that were I to describe it, I should be accused of word-painting. Out of those fifty men, more than forty had either hands or feet, or nose or ears, taken off by the cold [frost-bitten]. Sustaining such fatigues and sufferings as these, at the end of twenty-five days we reached Máryul. The Chui of Máryul, named Táshikun and Lata Jughdán, who have been mentioned in a few places already, hastened out to wait upon us. Since we had [on a former occasion] treated them with violence, both plundering and killing [their people], I was inwardly in great fear of them. But contrary to my apprehensions, they showed their willingness to assist us in every way, and even proffered excuses, saying: “For four hundred years, from father to son, we have been the subjects and you the king; we the slave, you the master; if in the days of your glory and greatness we were alarmed and trangressed, we met with our due retribution at your hands. At that time the Chui of Tibet submitted to and obeyed you, solely from fear. But now we offer our services, out of attachment to you, and in all sincerity.” [Verses.]

They gave us the castle of Shaya, which is the capital of Máryul.* In Shaya we took the opportunity to recover [from our fatigues], and here, some of the army who had stayed behind, now rejoined us. Among them was Maulána Darvish Muhammad Kará Tágh, one of the attendants of Khwája Muhammad Yusuf, who has been mentioned above. This Mauláná Darvish Muhammad was a pious and devoted Musulmán. He knew the Tibetan language remarkably well, and enjoyed the entire confidence of all the Chui of Tibet. He was thus able to settle all our affairs with them in a satisfactory way.

From Kashmir there came a certain man named Háji, who attached himself to my service; he will be mentioned frequently hereinafter; our party now numbered more than sixty persons.

But the disbanded army, as it advanced, began to suffer from the change in the season; so much so, that most of the men were unable to proceed, while those who attempted to go on, lost all their effects. Nearly one hundred and fifty men died from exposure to the cold. The rest arrived in a half-dead state at Yárkand. Another party, turning back, reached Máryul in a helpless condition. Thus a body numbering five hundred men was again assembled, together with about 10,000 sheep. [For a time] we enjoyed a complete rest.

Before reaching Máryul, I sent forward Ján Ahmad Ataka and Sháh Muhammad Kukildásh, to Rashid Sultán in Yárkand, with many gifts from the spoil we had taken in our last expedition. I also wrote him a few lines, reminding him of our ancient bonds of friendship, and sent him as proof thereof, some old tokens we had interchanged. A dark coloured Arab pustin, and a steel báluka, both of which Rashid Sultán had given me, I now sent back to him, just as they were [ba-jins]. [Verses] …

Towards the close of that winter Rashid Sultán sent Bidakan, son of my foster-brother Ján Ahmad Ataka, accompanied by Hasan Divána, to bear to me messages of apology and expressions of repentance. His past behaviour [he admitted] had been due to his ignorance, and was a cause for shame in this world and the next. He now frankly begged the forgiveness of his dear friend. He had sent Mauláná Kudásh with two hundred men, for my service. All those of my following who had gone over to him, might now return to me; no one should hinder them. He also sent me some horses and other gifts. I was not a little encouraged by these messages, and most of Tibet submitted.

In the meanwhile Mauláná Kudásh arrived, bringing with him some of my chief retainers. Being reinforced by this band, we marched for Bálti, which touches the confines of Kashmir. All Bálti paid the appointed tax in kind, without hesitation or delay. Suru is a department of Bálti, and its chief defence and stronghold. Mauláná Kudásh asked permission from me to go and impose a levy upon Suru, but I would not consent to this, knowing that those infidels would not be willing to let any one visit their districts and valleys.* [Indeed the people of Suru] begged that [no one might come]. “Whatever amount is due,” [they said], “that we will ourselves bring to the camp where you now are; there is no need for you to come [to us].” However, when the fowler of destiny places the grain of earthly desire in the net of fate, not even a bird of wisdom can escape from that net. [Couplet]… But Kudásh, not accepting my refusal, was so importunate in his demands that I at last sanctioned his going, and he set forth. The people of Suru put him to death in a narrow pass, together with twenty-four worthy men who were with him; they were subjected to a hundred ignominies, and were unable to strike a blow. Although our force numbered some seven hundred men, yet, on account of our poverty and want of arms, we were unable to avenge him. [Three couplets]…

Leaving Bálti, we set out towards a province in Tibet called Zangskar. The crops had, as yet, attained no height; harvest time was not yet come, when we arrived. While we were waiting for the harvest, that we might divide the crops, one of the Chui of Bálti, named Tangi Sakáb, who had in the past rendered us useful services, came and told us that the time had come to go and attack the murderers of Kudásh, that is to say, the people of Suru. “You can go and pillage their country,” [he said], “carry off their women and take vengeance on their men.”

Some of those who had lost their strength, were at once despatched to Máryul, in order that the strong men among us might proceed with all speed. I sent my cousin to escort the party [going to Máryul], as one day's march of that journey was very dangerous. He was to see them [safely] through this part of the road. At night he encamped there. As the place was dangerous, he kept his horse by him all through the night. During his sleep, the horse, while grazing, kicked him so hard on the forehead as to fracture his skull [making a wound] the size of the hoof. On the next day he came to me and showed me his wound. According to the practice of Moghul surgeons, I broke the bone [again], and seizing the edge of it, applied remedies. I then sent to tell Tangi Sakáb what I had done. He sent back answer: “Since your coming would involve no little difficulty, [you had better] send me a small contingent to take Suru. We will send you a fifth part of all that falls into our hands. This also would be an acceptable service.”

Between Zangskar, where I was dwelling, and Sut,* the home of Tangi Sakáb, is five days' journey. I sent [to Tangi Sakáb], seventy men under the command of Mauláná Darvish Muhammad Kará Tágh, who enjoyed the entire confidence of the Chui of Tibet, and Nur Ali Divána, one of the most promising young soldiers, and who had turned back to rejoin me. Nearly two months were passed in exchange of messages before a decision was arrived at. Mahmud Mirzá's wound had opened afresh, and it became quite impossible for him to remain in Zangskar, on account of the severity of the weather. So I was obliged to send him back to Máryul, while I remained in Zangskar, in order that, as soon as he had reached Máryul in safety, I might myself proceed to Suru, where I hoped to find some means of existence. When Mahmud reached the spot where he had received the kick from his horse, he halted for the night, and on the morrow, as he was about to mount, he exposed his head to apply the dressing. The cold got into the wound and, fainting away, he became insensible. At noontide prayers a person came and informed me of his condition. I at once set out in all haste to see him. I arrived at midnight and found him unconscious. On the following day he came to himself and entirely recovered consciousness. The next day also, he was conscious, but on the third day he began to talk incoherently, and two nights later he died.*

Meanwhile a messenger arrived from the party which I had despatched against Suru, saying that Nur Ali Divána, in company with his companions and Mauláná Kará Tágh, had gone to attack Bághán, who was a Chui of the provinces of Tibet. Mauláná Darvish Muhammad having enticed him into a place [apart], they exchanged blows, and at length Bághán, being mortally wounded, they made a present of that infidel to the Musulmáns, and taking leave, proceeded to Yárkand.* That infidel killed the Mauláná by transfixing him with a stick. Thus the Suru expedition came to nothing. Having conveyed Mahmud's body to Máryul, I sent it on thence to Káshghar [to be buried in the tomb] of his forefathers. These events happened in the beginning of the season of Scorpio. It was at the commencement of the cold season of Tibet, that we went to Máryul. That winter, until spring came round, we passed in such a manner that, were I to describe our sufferings, I should be suspected of exaggeration.

On the return of spring, seventy persons were sent with the horses, to a place called Utluk—a ravine [mughára] famous in all Tibet for the richness of its crops. I spent the interim in hunting the wild ass and the wild kutás, and then returned. On my departure, I had left Iskandar Sultán in Máryul with a body of men. When we had once again reassembled, the horses had grown fat and strong, but our men, unable to support the pressure of misfortune and trial, all at once dispersed and went off to Yárkand; only fifty of them stayed behind, the rest all fled. At this junc­ture Ján Ahmad Ataka, whom, two years previously (on my return from the Ursang expedition) I had sent to Rashid Sultán (as was mentioned), came back from Yárkand, bringing the orders that we were to stay no longer in Tibet. Hitherto my reason for lingering in Tibet had been, that if of my own choice I moved to some other place, I should be accused of breaking my engagement. He [Rashid Sultán], however, while outwardly pretending to be up­right, had broken this engagement, which he had sworn to with the most solemn oaths, and now, disregarding every [honourable] consideration, ordered me to take flight. [Verses]… No sooner had Ján Ahmad Ataka delivered his message, than I set out for Badakhshán.