This winter many of my soldiers, principally because we could not go out in plundering parties, asked leave to go to Andejān. Kāsim Beg strongly advised me that, as these men were going that way, I should send some article of my dress as a present to Jehāngīr Mirza. I accordingly sent him a cap of ermine. Kāsim Beg then added, ‘What great harm would there be in sending some present to Tambol?’ Though I did not altogether approve of this, yet, induced by the pressing instances of Kāsim Beg, I sent Tambol a large sword, which had been made in Samarkand for Nuyān Gokultāsh,* from whom I took it.* This was the very sword that afterwards came down on my own head, as shall be mentioned in the events of the ensuing year.
Bābur’sA few days after, my grandmother Isān Doulet Begum,* who had remained behind in Samarkand when I left it, arrived with the family and heavy baggage, and a few lean and hungry followers.
Sheibāni This same winter Sheibāni Khan, having passed the river
of Khojend on the ice, ravaged the territory of Shahrokhīa
and Bishkent. As soon as I heard the intelligence, without
regarding the smallness of my numbers, I mounted and set
out for the districts below Khojend, opposite to Hasht-yek.
It was wonderfully cold, and the wind of Hā-derwīsh had
here lost none of its violence, and blew keen. So excessive
was the cold, that in the course of two or three days we lost
two or three persons from its severity. I required to bathe
on account of my religious purifications, and went down
for that purpose to a rivulet, which was frozen on the banks,
but not in the middle, from the rapidity of the current.
I plunged myself into the water, and dived sixteen times.
Bābur also
passes the
river to
meet him.
The extreme chillness of the water quite penetrated me.
Next morning I passed the river of Khojend on the ice,
opposite to Khaslār, and the day after arrived at Bishkent;
but Sheibāni Khan had gone off, after plundering the
environs of Shahrokhīa. At this time Abdal Minān, the son
of Mulla Haider, held Shahrokhīa. A son younger than
Abdal Minān, one Mūmin, a worthless and dissipated young
man, had come to me while I was in Samarkand, and I had
shown him every kindness. I do not know what bad turn
Nuyān Gokultāsh had done him at that time; however,
the young catamite treasured up a deadly enmity against
him.
When I received certain accounts that the plundering
party of the Uzbeks was retired, I dispatched a messenger
with the intelligence to the Khan, and leaving Bishkent
tarried three or four days in the village of Ahengerān.*
Mūmin, the son of Mulla Haider, on the plea of their
previous acquaintance in Samarkand, invited Nuyān
Gokultāsh, Ahmed Kāsim, and some others, to an entertainment;
and, when I left Bishkent, this party stayed behind.
The entertainment was given on the top of a precipice.
I went on to the village of Sām-sīrek, which is one of the
dependencies of Ahengerān, and there halted. Next
morning, I was informed that Nuyān Gokultāsh had
fallen over the precipice while intoxicated, and was
killed. I dispatched Hak Nazar, the maternal uncle of
Nuyān Gokultāsh, with a detachment, who went, examined
the place from which he had fallen, and, after interring him
in Bishkent, returned back to me. They found Nuyān’s
corpse at the distance of a bowshot from the spot where the
entertainment had been given, at the bottom of a steep
precipice. Many suspected that Mūmin, cherishing in his
heart the grudge against Nuyān, which he had contracted
at Samarkand, was the cause of his death. The truth no
Bābur’s
grief.
man can know. His death affected me deeply. There are
few persons for whose loss I have felt so much. I wept
incessantly for a week or ten days. I discovered the date
of his death in fout-shud Nuyān*
(Nuyān is dead). A few
days afterwards, I set out from this place, and returned to
Dehkat.
It was now spring, and intelligence was brought that Sheibāni Khan was advancing against Uratippa. As Dehkat was in the low country, I passed by Āb-burden and Amāni, and came to the hill-country of Masīkha. Āb-burden is a village which lies at the foot of Masīkha.* Beneath Āb-burden is a spring, and close by the spring is a tomb. From this spring, towards the upland, the country belongs to Masīkha, but downwards from the spring it depends on Yelghar. On a stone which is on the brink of this spring, on one of its sides, I caused the following verses* to be inscribed:
I have heard that the exalted Jemshīd
Inscribed on a stone beside a fountain,
‘Many a man like us has rested by this fountain,
And disappeared in the twinkling of an eye.
Should we conquer the whole world by our manhood and strength,
Yet could we not carry it with us to the grave.’
In this hill-country, the practice of cutting verses and other inscriptions on the rocks is extremely common.
While I was in Masīkha, I had a visit from Mulla Hijari, the poet, who came from Hissār. At this time I composed the following matla*:
(Tūrki)— Whatever skill the painter employs in portraying your features, you exceed his art;
They call you Soul; but of a truth you are more admirable than the soul.
Sheibāni Khan advanced into the neighbourhood of Uratippa, and retired after committing some devastations. While he was in the territory of Uratippa, without regarding the fewness of my men, or their bad equipment, leaving my household and baggage in Masīkha, I marched rapidly over the hills, passing Āb-burden and Amāni, and came into the vicinity of Dehkat, about the time when the night mingles with the morning, resolved to lose no opportunity, and to be in the way of seizing every chance that might present itself.* Sheibāni Khan, however, had retired hastily, so that I measured back my way over the hills, and returned to Masīkha.
Bābur re-I now began to reflect, that to ramble in this way from hill to hill, without house and without home, without country and without resting-place, could serve no good purpose, and that it was better to go to Tāshkend to the Khan. Kāsim Beg was very averse to this journey. He had put to death three or four Moghuls at Kara-būlāk, as an example and punishment for marauding, as has been mentioned, and on that account he had considerable apprehensions of going among their countrymen. Whatever remonstrances we could use were of no avail. He separated from me, and moved off towards Hissār, with his elder and younger brothers, their adherents and dependants; while I proceeded by the pass of Āb-burden, and advanced towards Tāshkend, to join the Khan.
Conspiracy At this same time, Tambol, having collected an army,
advanced to the dale of Ahengerān. In the very heart of
his army a conspiracy was formed against him by Muhammed
Dughlet, known by the name of Muhammed Hissāri,
in concert with his younger brother, Sultan Hussain Dughlet,
and Kamber Ali, the skinner. On Tambol’s discovering the
plot, being unable longer to remain in his camp, they fled,
10th Zil-
hijeh.
June 16,
1502.
and came to the Khan. I passed the Īd-e-kurbān*
in
Shahrokhīa, but, without tarrying there, I went to Tāshkend
to the Khan.
I had composed the following rubāi in a well-known measure, and was dubious about the correctness of its rhymes, as, at that time, I had not studied with much attention the style and phraseology of poetry. The Khan had pretensions to taste, and, moreover, wrote verses; though his odes, to be sure, were rather deficient both in manner and substance. I presented my rubāi, however, to the Khan, and expressed to him my apprehensions, but did not get such an explicit or satisfactory answer as to remove my doubts. Indeed, it was pretty clear that he had no great skill in poetic diction. The following is the rubāi or quatrain in question:
(Tūrki)— No one remembers him who is in adversity;
A banished man cannot indulge his heart in happiness;
My heart is far from joy in this exile;
However brave, an exile has no pleasures.