Sundials of the Bahmala Valley & the Noukat Spring

Rain-fed agriculture, which allows the inhabitants of Uzbekistan to sustain themselves with grain and fruits to this day, originated in the foothills of the Pamirs and the Western Tian Shan almost simultaneously with the first human settlements. The very word “boghara” derives from the Persian “bahor,” meaning spring. The arable lands and gardens on the slopes of the clay hills are irrigated solely by spring rains and seasonal streams that swell in March and April. By mid-May, their beds are completely dry. The plants in the rain-fed fields continue to draw nourishment from the moisture stored in the soil during the winter-spring period. Meanwhile, drinking water remains only in the springs, which bring underground aquifers to the surface, replenished by the melting snow and ice on distant mountain peaks. Each spring is regarded as a sacred place, associated with its own cult and colorful folk legends.

There are numerous such springs in the Bahmala Valley, located between the Malguzar and Turkestan mountain ranges in the southern part of the Jizzakh region of Uzbekistan. For instance, the veneration of the sacred spring that bursts from an underground grotto near the village of Noukat echoes the ancient agricultural cult. According to local legend, one day the daughter of the ruler of Balkh (an ancient city in northern modern Afghanistan) went into the mountains with her friends, where she discovered a pure spring, the icy water of which only she dared to taste. After some time, it became clear that the girl was pregnant. Since no one believed her claims of innocence, the ruler intended to subject her to a shameful execution—stoning. However, a wandering sage, magician, and astrologer, who happened to be at the court at that time, persuaded him not to carry out the punishment.

The ruler agreed but banished the girl from his home—he placed her on a camel and ordered her to go wherever her eyes could see. The camel carried the woman far to the north and only stopped many months later when it reached the Bahmala Valley. Here, amidst the lifeless bare hills, the exhausted animal breathed its last. The outcast felt the onset of labor pains and took refuge in a ravine overgrown with thorny bushes, where she gave birth to a boy. However, she could not even nourish him with her milk, as she was herself suffering from thirst. She had to leave the child in the shade of a pistachio tree and set off in search of water. An hour later, she returned empty-handed, desperate and ready to die. Suddenly, she saw that a powerful spring was gushing from the stones upon which the infant lay. The miracles did not end there. As soon as the mother dipped her child in the water to bathe him, the boy transformed into a fish, slipped from her hands, and disappeared into the depths of the underwater grotto. The spring began to flow even more vigorously, turning into a stream that eventually quenched the valley, where gardens bloomed. The unfortunate woman remained to live by the spring, becoming the first local hermit.

Today, a mosque built in 1909 stands by the spring in Noukat, along with a khanqah—a guesthouse for pilgrims wishing to stop here for the night. Women who come to the spring believe that a sip of its water can heal them from infertility. Accordingly, the local “sacred fish” behave in accordance with the legend: during the summer heat, they hide in the dark depths of the grotto until the time for the evening namaz—the daily prayer at dusk.

In the Middle Ages, Sufis—mystics of Islam, many of whom were hermits living on alms—settled in most of these corners of Central Asia, distinguished by favorable natural conditions or some special properties. With their help, contradictions between the harsh doctrine of Islamic monotheism, which strictly prohibits the worship of stones, streams, and trees, and the remnants of pagan beliefs, which are deeply rooted in popular consciousness, were resolved. It is evident that the legend of the spring in Noukat bears a significant imprint of an ancient agricultural cult, possibly linked to Anahita—the goddess of water and fertility in Zoroastrianism. This version is further confirmed by the fact that nearby, in the mountainous area of Jomonjar, underground temples of Zoroastrian followers have been discovered.

The existence of an ancient culture in the Bahmala Valley is also evidenced by remarkable artifacts—sundials, whose “faces,” engraved on the surfaces of flat granite boulders, are perfectly round in shape, albeit without divisions. The age of these sundials is indeterminate, but their functional purpose is beyond doubt. There are numerous stones, their sizes are impressive, and next to some, one can find stone rods. These rods presumably served as the “hour hand which was placed in the center of the circle, casting a shadow to indicate the approximate time of day. The findings in Bahmala could provide rich material for research by archaeologists and historians of the ancient world, but for now, they primarily serve as objects of reverent veneration by local residents and pilgrims. It is worth noting that this reverence effectively protects them from destruction and preserves them for future generations.

In the late 1990s, Bahmala nearly experienced a “treasure-hunting fever” when several ancient items, including weapons and gold coins, were unearthed from an underground passage that suddenly opened in the midst of the village of Jargok. However, the excitement turned into tragedy: a self-proclaimed explorer mysteriously disappeared in the catacombs. Following this incident, the authorities ordered the grotto to be filled in, and the local residents complied with this request quite willingly.

“All miracles happen by the will of the Almighty,” explained the guardian of the sanctuary. “In our lands, water is everything. In Noukat, there are one thousand five hundred families, and there is only one source of water. In the winter of 1997, a severe flood occurred; a powerful mudflow descended from the mountains, destroying the spring and burying it under stones and clay. But the people dug it out by hand, cleared the ponds, and replanted the trees.”

In the spring, the Bahmala Valley is overwhelmed by the blossoming of apple orchards. The local apples are renowned throughout Uzbekistan, no less than those from Namangan, and are sold year-round along the highway leading from Tashkent to Samarkand. In every yard, a rich and tangy apple aroma lingers from the supplies preserved from the previous harvest. The lands on the hills continue to be plowed for wheat fields, which should be harvested by mid-July. However, rain-fed agriculture, just like a thousand years ago, remains a risky endeavor. Its success entirely depends on whether the spring rains are plentiful and whether severe frosts or hail will occur during the flowering of the trees and the ripening of the fruits. As it was thousands of years ago, farmers in rain-fed fields are in dire need of nature’s goodwill. If any misfortunes occur, the community gathers at the sacred site for a khudoi ceremony—a sacrifice. The family most in need of heavenly mercy purchases and slaughters a fat ram. Only one-third of it can be kept for their own needs, while two-thirds must be distributed to the less fortunate. The elders, having tasted shurpa—a spicy lamb soup—recite prayers.

@ Andrey Kudryashov / “Fergana”