The Memoirs of Bābur 910.10.7

910.10.7

When, with a few more marches, we reached the Standing-water (_Āb-i-istāda_) a wonderfully large sheet of water presented itself to view; the level lands on its further side could not be seen at all; its water seemed to join the sky; the higher land and the mountains of that further side looked to hang between Heaven and Earth, as in a mirage. The waters there gathered are said to be those of the spring-rain floods of the Kattawāz-plain, the Zurmut-valley, and the Qarā-bāgh meadow of the Ghaznī-torrent,—floods of the spring-rains, and the over-plus[918] of the summer-rise of streams. When within two miles of the Āb-i-istāda, we saw a wonderful thing,—something as red as the rose of the dawn kept shewing and vanishing between the sky and the water. It kept coming and going. When we got quite close we learned that what seemed the cause were flocks of geese,[919] not 10,000, not 20,000 in a flock, but geese innumerable which, when the mass of birds flapped their wings in flight, sometimes shewed red feathers, sometimes not. Not only was this bird there in countless numbers, but birds of every sort. Eggs lay in masses on the shore. When two Afghāns, come there to collect eggs, saw us, [Sidenote: Fol. 153b.] they went into the water half a _kuroh_ (a mile). Some of our men following, brought them back. As far as they went the water was of one depth, up to a horse's belly; it seemed not to lie in a hollow, the country being flat.