From the Black Mountain to Waziristan: Being an account of the border countries and the more turbulent of the tribes controlled by the north-west frontier province, and of our military relations with them in the pastWylly, H. C. (Harold Carmichael)
History
From the Black Mountain to Waziristan: Being an account of the border countries and the more turbulent of the tribes controlled by the north-west frontier province, and of our military relations with them in the past
Of the Kunar River and Valley Holdich has a good deal to say, both in
_The Gates of India_ and in _The Indian Borderland_. In the former book
he writes that it was in the Kunar Valley that Alexander the Great
“found and defeated the chief of the Aspasians. The Kunar River is by
far the most important of the northern tributaries of the Kabul. It
rises under the Pamirs, and is otherwise known as the Chitral River. The
Kunar Valley is amongst the most lovely of the many lovely valleys of
Afghanistan. Flanked by the snowy-capped mountains of Kashmund on the
west, and the long level water-parting which divides it from Bajaur and
the Panjkora drainage on the east, it appears, as one enters it from
Jalalabad, to be hemmed in and constricted. The gates of it are indeed
somewhat narrow, but it widens out northward, where the ridges of the
lofty Kashmund tail off into low altitudes of sweeping foothills a few
miles above the entrance, and here offer opportunity for an easy pass
across the divide from the west into the valley. This is a link in the
oldest and probably the best-trodden route from Kabul to the Punjab, and
it has no part with the Khyber. It links together these northern valleys
of Laghman, Kundar and Lundai (_i.e._ the Panjkora and Swat united) by a
road north of the Kabul, finally passing southwards into the plains
chequered by the river network above Peshawar. The lower Kunar Valley in
the early autumn is passing beautiful. Down the tawny plain and backed
by purple hills the river winds its way, reflecting the azure sky with
pure turquoise colour—the opaque blue of silted water—blinking and
winking with tiny sun shafts, and running emerald green at the edges....
The clustering villages are thick in some parts—so thick that they
jostle each other continuously.... Higher up the river the valley closes
until, long before Chitral is reached, it narrows exceedingly. Here, in
the north, the northern winds rage down the funnel with bitter fury and
make life burdensome. The villages take to the hill slopes or cluster in
patches on the terraces at their feet.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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