National Geographic : 1967 Jan
sails of country boats in invisible rivers and canals appeared to float across the land. Most of the male population of Baburhat met us at the edge of the village, threw the inevitable garlands over our heads, sang songs of welcome, and gave us rousing cheers. The chairman of the union council introduced himself as the Maulana (a title somewhat like "the Reverend") Nuruzz-aman and led the way across the fields at a half-trot toward the cluster of metal-roofed, mat-sided huts shel tering the looms. From all about the horizon came the click and whir of flying shuttles. Every banana grove sheltered a one-room textile mill and a cluster of shacks for the proprietor's family. We entered the semidarkness of a weaving shed where four small looms clattered. Squat ting on the floor, a ten-year-old boy pulled EKTACHROME(LEFT) AND KODACHROME() NATIONAL GEOGRAPHICSOCIETY Smoky sunlight bathes a narrow street in Peshawar. Nearby, in the town's most fa mous bazaars, the Street of the Storytellers and the Street of Partridge Lovers, the bab ble of voices, aroma of spices, and displays of silks, woolens, fruit, copperware, carpets, and jewelry assail the senses. "Narrow sword cut in the hills," Rudyard Kipling called the Khyber Pass. Two roads - one for vehicles, the other for laden camels -twist for twenty miles through the rugged Safed Koh Range. Forts and sentry posts re main from the days when the British fought unsuccessfully to subdue the mountain tribes men. Today these same tribes, in agreement with the Pakistani Government, keep watch for bandits as trucks rumble along the cork screw road through the famous pass.