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A. KINCAID, C.V.O., I.C.S.</span><br> +<span lang="fr">Officie de l’Instruction Publique.</span></div> +<div class="docImprint">THE DAILY GAZETTE PRESS, LTD.,<br> +KARACHI. +<br> +<span class="docDate">1925.</span></div> +</div> +<p></p> +<div class="div1 dedication"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> +<p class="first center">To<br> +JEAN LOUIS RIEU, <span class="sc">C. S. I.</span>, <i>I. C. S.</i>,<br> +Commissioner-in-Sind. +</p> +<p class="center">this book is inscribed in memory of an unclouded and greatly valued friendship lasting +for over thirty years. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div1 epigraph"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<blockquote> +<p class="first">“Satan is the only true lover, all others are mere prattlers. Out of his great love +for his Lord, the shining one (Satan) incurred disgrace.” +</p> +<p class="signed"><span class="sc">Shah Latif.</span></p> +</blockquote> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p><i>Commentator.</i>—God needed opposition to make Him realise His almighty strength. To give God full +possession of it, Satan sacrificed himself and rebelled, although he knew that he +would thereafter be punished eternally. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div1 preface"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">AUTHOR’S PREFACE.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Most of the articles collected in this little book have appeared in the “Daily Gazette” +or the “Times of India.” They are reprinted with the kind permission of the Editors. +I do not claim for them any merit beyond the fact that they touch the fringe of an +unexplored country. My hope is that they will lead others more competent than I am +and with greater opportunities than I have had, to delve into the vast treasures of +folklore possessed by the Province of Sind. +</p> +<p>The four Guzarati stories have been added, because although they come from a different +part of India, they are still folk tales and belong to the same category as the Sind +tales. I am indebted to Mr. Amritlal Chunilal, Vakil of Kapadwanj, for the originals +of the Guzarati stories. +</p> +<p class="signed">C. A. K. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb.i">[<a href="#pb.i">I</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div1 foreword"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">FOREWORD.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Be the fact good or bad for the Province, fact it is. The beauties of Sind are not +for the stranger, or casual visitor. He, perhaps merely seeking the shortest and quickest +route to some temporary post up North, or possibly to his permanent home in the damp, +grey West, notices only torrid heat, arid wastes, blinding glare, suffocating dust, +and a coastal Port somewhat reminiscent of Suez or Port Said. Not for him the enchanting +views from the little islands at Bhukkar, or from the banks of the lower reaches of +the Indus below Hyderabad. Not for him the green grain fields and shady forests that +fringe the great river between Larkana and the late Capital. Not for him the scent +of the old Kumbar Road, or the myriad bird life of the Munchar Lake. Not for him the +moonlight on the great desert on our Eastern frontier; or the sunrise from the Indus +delta, throwing its golden shafts across Karachi’s beautiful lagoon to the rugged +sky-line of the Hub hills. +</p> +<p>But for the old Sindhi these things mean much. Further, nobody who has lived long +in Sind, can have failed to be affected not only by its beauties, but by the atmosphere +of romance that pervades the whole Province. It meets one on every side—north, south, +east and west. But little imagination is required to picture the argosies of bygone +centuries sailing silently down the river past the green fields of Kushmore: or the +old caravans from Kandahar with their strings of stately camels slowly emerging from +the foot of the Bolan Pass on their way to Shikarpur: or the <i>buggalas</i> of old Nearchus nestling in the Chinna Creek in the shelter of the Oyster Rocks during +the monsoon, patiently awaiting the arrival of the Great Alexander shortly to appear +at the Ghizree mouth of the Indus on the <span class="pageNum" id="pb.ii">[<a href="#pb.ii">II</a>]</span>conclusion of his triumphal progress through Western Asia! Then, too, think of the +circumstances leading up to the birth at Oomerkot of that infant who was afterwards +to be one of the greatest rulers in Indian history,—the mighty Akbar. Here are materials +for romances galore. +</p> +<p>We are not dependent, however, simply on historical incidents to stimulate our imaginations. +Though the vagaries of the Indus and the severity of the hot season in the interior +combine quickly to obliterate man’s puny strivings for permanency, material evidence +exists in many places of the great vitality and culture of those who have lived before +us in this ancient land of Sind. The beautifully coloured and perfectly glazed tiles +and pottery of Hala bear testimony to an art lost to the present generation of Sindhis; +whilst the ornamented graves and temples which can still be seen in many parts of +the Province, reveal the existence in the past of a God-fearing people with well developed +notions of sculpture and architecture. Who can regard the wonderful tombs on the Makli +Hill at Tatta or the ruins of the great city of <span class="corr" id="xd33e169" title="Source: Brahminabad">Brahmanabad</span> without realising that those responsible for these things must have been, in their +day, well advanced in social and civilised life, and deserving of the respect of the +present generation. +</p> +<p>It is about certain leaders—religious and political—of these peoples of the bygone +centuries that the Hon. Mr. Justice Kincaid has compiled the stories that have been +reproduced in the following pages. The stories which have been passed on from generation +to generation, are, like the legends of the West, to some extent mythical, but no +doubt based on actual incidents in the past which, in the repeated telling, have been +added to and embroidered in a way calculated to impress the <span class="pageNum" id="pb.iii">[<a href="#pb.iii">III</a>]</span>minds of the simple folk who heard them; and thus their remembrance and transmission +to later generations has been assured. Mr. Kincaid has well caught the spirit of the +stories, and his transcriptions are in his happiest style. The thanks of every patriotic +Sindhi will go out to him for thus preserving in the printed page the legends that +have grown up around some of the more celebrated figures and remains of ancient Sind. +</p> +<p>But we hope that Mr. Kincaid’s good work will not cease yet. The investigations of +the Archaeological Department of the Government of India have recently brought to +light facts that have turned the eyes of the whole world towards the valley of the +Indus. Searching amongst the ruins of northern Sind, Mr. Rakhaldas Bannerji has discovered +at Mohenjo Daro in the Larkana District buildings and domestic articles that seem +to indicate the existence in Sind of an advanced civilisation some thousands of years +ago! This discovery is confirmed by the unearthing, almost at the same time, of similar +remains 400 miles away at Harappa in the Montgomery District of the Punjab. These +remains include “houses and temples, massively built of burnt brick, and provided +with well constructed water conduits covered with marble slabs. The smaller antiquities +include a quantity of pottery—painted and plain, terra cotta, toys, bangles of blue +glass, paste and shell, new types of coins (or tokens), curious stone rings and dice.” +Further, there are a number of engraved and inscribed seals bearing inscriptions in +a hitherto unknown pictographic script. A careful comparison has now confirmed the +surmise that these antiquities are closely connected and contemporary with the Sumerian +antiquities of southern Mesopotamia, dating from the third or fourth <span class="corr" id="xd33e178" title="Source: millenium">millennium</span> before Christ. And so the conclusion has been arrived at that the peoples of Sind +and the Punjab <span class="pageNum" id="pb.iv">[<a href="#pb.iv">IV</a>]</span>were living in “well-built cities in a relatively mature civilisation with a high +standard of art and <span class="corr" id="xd33e183" title="Source: craftmanship">craftsmanship</span> and a developed system of writing 5,000 years ago.” (<i>vide</i> Sir John Marshall, Director-General of Archaeology in India’s communications to the +<i>Pioneer</i> and to the <i>Times</i> in November and December, 1924). +</p> +<p>Whether any trace of this remote civilisation can be detected in any of the old legends +at present current among the country-folk of Sind, it is impossible to say. We hope +that Mr. Kincaid will be able to continue his investigations into these matters, and +will give to the public all that he can find. With the translation of the pictographic +script on the recently discovered seals, some clue or connection with later civilisations +may possibly be traced. A fascinating vista of Sind, <i>i.e.</i>, the land of the Indus, as the cradle of modern Civilisation has been opened up, +(for Sumerian culture was probably the source of Babylonian, Assyrian and Western +Asiatic culture). It is to be hoped that the Government of India will continue its +investigations with redoubled energy, and will further explore the rich plains on +both banks of the Indus. +</p> +<p class="signed"><span class="sc">M. de P. Webb.</span> +</p> +<p class="dateline">London, 16th December, 1924. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb.v">[<a href="#pb.v">V</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="toc" class="div1 last-child contents"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">CONTENTS. +</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">I.—SIND FOLK STORIES. +</p> +<table class="tocList"> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum"></td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> +</td> +<td class="tocPageNum small"><span class="sc">Page.</span></td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">1.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch1" id="xd33e222">Lal Shahbaz</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">7</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">2.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch2" id="xd33e231">Udero Lal</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">12</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">3.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch3" id="xd33e240">Jinda Pir</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">18</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">4.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch4" id="xd33e249">Abdul Latif, the author of Shah Jo Risalo</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">22</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">5.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch5" id="xd33e258"><span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Niamat Ullah and <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Nuh</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">28</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">6.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch6" id="xd33e272">Haidarabad</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">32</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">7.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch7" id="xd33e281">Brahmanabad I</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">35</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">8.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch8" id="xd33e290">Brahmanabad II</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">38</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">9.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch9" id="xd33e299">The Eighth Key</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">45</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">10.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch10" id="xd33e308">The Noose of Murad</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">53</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">11.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch11" id="xd33e318">The Makli Hill</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">57</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">12.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch12" id="xd33e327">Larkana</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">62</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">13.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch13" id="xd33e336">Two love Tragedies</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">65</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">14.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch14" id="xd33e345">Swami Vankhandi of Sadh Belo</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">68</td> +</tr> +</table><p> +</p> +<p>II.—GUZARAT FOLK STORIES. +</p> +<table class="tocList"> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">15.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch15" id="xd33e358">King Mansing of Sirohi</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">75</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">16.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch16" id="xd33e367">The Wisdom Seller</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">80</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">17.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch17" id="xd33e376">Magadha and Rupvati</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">85</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">18.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch18" id="xd33e385">Rupsinh and the Queen of the Anardes</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">90</td> +</tr> +</table><p> +</p> +<p>III.—ROUND ABOUT NASIK. +</p> +<table class="tocList"> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">19.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch19" id="xd33e398">Round About Nasik</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">105</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="tocDivNum">20.</td> +<td class="tocDivTitle"> <a href="#ch20" id="xd33e407">July and December</a> </td> +<td class="tocPageNum">111</td> +</tr> +</table><p> +<span class="pageNum" id="pb7">[<a href="#pb7">7</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="body"> +<div class="div0 part"> +<h2 class="super">FOLK TALES OF SIND AND GUZARAT.</h2> +<h2 class="label"><span class="corr" id="xd33e419" title="Not in source">I.</span></h2> +<h2 class="main"><span class="corr" id="xd33e421" title="Not in source">SIND FOLK STORIES.</span></h2> +<div id="ch1" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e222">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">LAL SHAHBAZ.</h2> +<h2 class="sub">A SIND SAINT.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Sehwan is known to Englishmen chiefly as a handy station for those who wish to shoot +on the Manchar lake. In the summer it enjoys an unenviable reputation for heat. The +bare rocks of Lakhi known as the Bagothoro are said to end the last struggles of the +monsoon. Indeed the Lakhi pass is known locally as the gate of the infernal regions; +and an often quoted Persian couplet about Sehwan runs as follows: +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“When both Sehwan and Sibi grill so well +</p> +<p class="line">What good was there, O Lord, in making Hell?”<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e431src" href="#xd33e431" title="Go to note 1.">1</a></p> +</div> +<p class="first">But besides its fame as a sporting and a roasting centre, Sehwan has an immense reputation +for sanctity. Within its confines repose in mighty state the earthly remains of the +greatest saint of all Sind, worshipped alike by Musulmans and Hindus, the renowned +Lal Shahbaz, the Red Peregrine Falcon of the Indus valley. +</p> +<p>Lal Shahbaz’s real name was Hazrat Sayad Usman Shah Marwandi. He was born at Marwand +in Afghanistan in A.H. 538. His father Makhdum Sayad Ahmed Kabir was a powerful noble +and a great friend of the king of Tabriz. From his earliest years, so it is said, +the boy shewed a great leaning towards things spiritual. Before his twelfth year he +had already made the blind see, the deaf hear and the dumb speak. When Lal Shahbaz +reached manhood, he insisted on leaving his father’s house and started on a pilgrimage. +He first went to Baghdad <span class="pageNum" id="pb8">[<a href="#pb8">8</a>]</span>where he stayed at the court of the monarch Sayad Ali. When he wished to leave, Sayad +Ali implored him to remain at Baghdad for ever. But the religious call was too insistent +and with three friends, Sheikh Bahawaldin, Sheikh Farid Ganj Shakar and Makhdum Jalaluddin, +Lal Shahbaz set off for the Persian Gulf. In an island in the Gulf lived a fakir named +Sheikh Jalal whose austerities had won him supernatural gifts. Lal Shahbaz determined +to reduce him to obedience and make him his disciple. No boats were available so Lal +Shahbaz threw his “kishta” or begging bowl into the water and it became a boat. Into +it the four friends stepped and rowed for Sheikh Jalal’s island. About half way the +boat stopped dead and no matter how hard the saints plied the oar, it declined to +move. At last Lal Shahbaz realised that the island fakir had cast a spell on them. +But he could only have done that, if one among them was not a true anchorite and was +still thinking of the joys of this world, while pretending to have given them up for +ever. Lal Shahbaz told this to his friends and asked them whether they had one and +all given up the world wholly. They protested their complete unworldliness. But as +the boat still refused to budge, Lal Shahbaz went through their pockets. In the pocket +of Sheikh Bahawaldin he found, as I regret to say, a brick of solid gold, which the +saint was keeping against a rainy day. Lal Shahbaz threw it overboard. Once freed +from this sordid freight, the boat began again to move. As they drew near the island, +Lal Shahbaz saw Sheikh Jalal looking at them through a window of his castle. To punish +him for stopping the boat, Lal Shahbaz made the window grow so small that it gripped +the fakir’s neck as if in a vice. Sheikh Jalal yelled for mercy, but it was not granted +him until he had owned himself beaten and had promised to become an obedient and humble +follower of Lal Shahbaz. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb9">[<a href="#pb9">9</a>]</span></p> +<p>The great saint acquired his appellation of Lal Shahbaz, by two remarkable miracles. +After the defeat of Sheikh Jalal, Lal Shahbaz and his three companions went to Mecca +and Medina. As they were returning from the blessed vision of the prophet’s tomb, +they halted one night in a town on the coast of Arabia. Sheikh Farid Shakar Ganj went +to buy bread for the party. Unhappily the baker’s wife conceived an unholy passion +for the young man. Like a true ascetic he rejected her odious advances with the icy +disdain of Saint Joseph. The baker’s wife thereupon behaved after the manner of Potiphar’s +consort. She began to scream that Sheikh Farid Shakar Ganj had tried to outrage her. +The unhappy anchorite was seized, dragged before the governor and condemned to instant +execution. Lal Shahbaz heard of it and took immediate steps to rescue his innocent +friend. He changed one of his two remaining friends into a deer and bade him run towards +the gallows. The crowd ran madly after the deer to catch it. Lal Shahbaz turned his +second friend into a lion. It charged the executioners roaring terribly. They fled +incontinently. Lastly the Saint changed himself into a peregrine falcon and swooping +down picked up Sheikh Farid Shakar Ganj and bore him to a place of safety. By this +miracle the Saint got the name of Shahbaz, the Sindhi word for a peregrine falcon. +How did he obtain the title of Lal? It was this way: A certain Murshid once challenged +Shahbaz’s friends to bathe in a caldron of boiling oil. They not unnaturally declined +the challenge, whereupon the Murshid mocked them as unworthy impostors. They sorrowfully +told their master of their discomfiture. On the instant he accepted the challenge +and going to the Murshid’s house, leapt into the boiling oil. He stayed so long at +the bottom of the cauldron that his rival owned himself beaten. “Come out,” he cried, +“you are indeed a Lal among Lals (a ruby among <span class="pageNum" id="pb10">[<a href="#pb10">10</a>]</span>rubies)”. The master rose triumphantly out of the oil. He had suffered no harm from +the immersion, but the heat of the oil had turned his robe crimson. That robe he wore +to his dying day and was in the end buried in it. So he came to be known as Lal Shahbaz. +</p> +<p>After his journey to Mecca and Medina, Lal Shahbaz came to Sind. He wandered until +he came to a spot still called ‘Lal jo Bagh’ or the garden of the ruby, two miles +from Sehwan. Sehwan was, however, already a holy town and its worldly minded fakirs +dreaded that the advent of so famous a mendicant would reduce their earnings. They +sent him a cup full to the brim of milk, that he might know that just as the cup could +hold no more milk, so Sehwan could hold no more anchorites. Lal Shahbaz sent to those +worldly minded ones a fitting answer. He made a flower float on the milk and returned +the cup, thereby shewing to the fakirs that there was still room for yet another holy +man and that the newcomer meant to be above the others, even as the flower was above +the milk. After this event Lal Shahbaz spent most of his time in Sehwan. His friend +Sheikh Bahawaldin left him and went to Multan. Before leaving he offered to Lal Shahbaz +and the latter accepted the hand of his daughter. Not long afterwards Lal Shahbaz +learnt in a trance of the death of his prospective father-in-law. He went to Multan +and asked Sheikh Bahawaldin’s son, Sadaruddin for his betrothed. Sadaruddin refused. +The Saint thereupon cursed him and vowed that the girl should wed no one else, but +would find an instant resting place in paradise. Shortly afterwards the poor girl +died and Lal Shahbaz returned to Sehwan. He died on the 21st of the month of Shaban +650 A.H. at the ripe age of 112; and the anniversary of his death is kept as a great +festival. From all quarters of Sind come fakirs and musicians and dancing girls to +dance before the shrine of the <span class="pageNum" id="pb11">[<a href="#pb11">11</a>]</span>mighty anchorite. The chief feature of the celebration is the marriage of Lal Shahbaz +to his lost bride. +</p> +<p>Now why do Hindus worship at his shrine? That is perhaps the strangest part of the +story. In 56 B.C. lived the great king Vikramaditya of Dharmanagar or Ujjain, the +Arthur of Hindu historical legends. At his court lived the nine gems of learning and +his valour and his arms reduced all India to subjection. Once upon a time he resolved +to disguise himself and see with his own eyes how his viceroys governed his provinces. +He appointed to be his regent during his absence his younger brother Brartrahari. +One day the Goddess Parvati gave to a devout old couple in Ujjain an apple, that conferred +immortality on anyone who ate it. The old couple preferring riches to immortality +sold the apple to the regent for a great price. The regent gave it to his youngest +and prettiest wife. She unfortunately had a lover and she gave the apple to him. He +in turn presented it to a dancing girl, who sold it back to Brartrahari. The regent +thereby discovered his wife’s infidelity. In a rage he flung away the apple and abandoning +his office, became an anchorite. According to the local legend, he wandered until +he came to Sind, where he became a devoted worshipper of Shiva. He called his abiding +place Shivisthan or the place of Shiva. From Shivisthan has come the modern name Sehwan. +Brartrahari lived at Sehwan until he died and by his life and death made the spot +holy. The Musulman invasion swept away the temple of Shiva, but the memory of the +pious recluse lingered on; and when Lal Shahbaz came and worked miracles at the spot +where Brartrahari had lived, the Hindus declared that Lal Shahbaz was his reincarnation. +</p> +<p>The miraculous powers of Lal Shahbaz did not die with him. After his death streams +of molasses, sugar and milk are <span class="pageNum" id="pb12">[<a href="#pb12">12</a>]</span>said to have spurted from the wall of his tomb. These articles he meant for the use +of the poor of Sehwan only. Nor did he mean that any should take more than one helping +in any one day. Sad to relate, his pious wishes were brought to nought by the greed +of the townspeople. Poor and rich alike rushed to profit by the dead saint’s bounty +and none confined himself to a single helping. In disgust the dead saint bade the +streams dry up and all that now remains of them is a group of stones that look exactly +like petrified sugar molasses and milk. These the guardians of the shrine shew to +wondering pilgrims as proof positive of the legend’s truth. +</p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<div class="footnote-body"> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e431"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e431src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> The Persian runs:—<span lang="und">Shiristan o Sibi Sakhti chira dozakh pardakhti.</span> <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e431src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch2" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e231">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">UDERO LAL.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Udero Lal was born on Cheti Chand, the first day of the Sindhi month Cheti and also +the first day of what is known as the Chaitradi year—the year that begins with the +month of Cheti or Chaitra instead of the month of Kartak. In Udero Lal’s honour the +Government offices throughout Sind are closed. So in common gratitude every Government +officer ought to enquire who Udero Lal was. He was the son of an aged couple called +Ratno and Devki, who lived at Nasarpur. Ratno hawked cooked gram and was a devout +worshipper of the Indus river. They had two sons already, but had long passed the +age when married couples hope for more children. Ratno was sixty and Devki over forty, +when Udero Lal was born. But Udero Lal’s birth was due to divine interposition. The +cause of it was as follows:— +</p> +<p>In the year 939 A.D. one Marak was governor of Tatta. He was a bigoted Musulman and +he suddenly resolved to convert to Islam the whole Hindu population under him. He +proclaimed by beat of drum, that he would kill every Hindu, who did not change his +faith within twenty-four hours. So alarmed <span class="pageNum" id="pb13">[<a href="#pb13">13</a>]</span>were the Hindus that, so the story runs, all their cooking pots fell from their shelves; +and exclaiming that a camel had entered the king’s head<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e461src" href="#xd33e461" title="Go to note 1.">1</a>, they went in a body to his minister Aho. Through him they gained a fortnight’s respite. +At that time, so the legend has it, the Indus flowed past Tatta. On its banks the +despairing Hindus gathered and prayed to the great river to save them from the hands +of Marak. At the same time they vowed that if no answer was vouchsafed to their prayers +within a week, they would throw their children into the stream. On the fourteenth +day they would with their wives in their arms throw themselves into it and thus escape +the cruelty of Marak. +</p> +<p>On the seventh day when they were on the point of drowning all their babies, they +saw the river god himself rise from the waves, a beautiful figure, all of snow-white +foam. He bade the Hindus no longer despair. He had heard their supplications and within +the allotted fortnight he would be born in the house of Ratno, the gram hawker. He +bade them warn Marak of his approaching birth. They did so and the wicked governor +sent Aho to seize the baby directly it was born. The child Udero Lal arrived on the +last day of the fortnight. Aho was about to seize it, when it changed instantly into +a youth of sixteen, then into an old man and once more into an infant. Aho was dumbfounded +and his hatred and unbelief changed to love and faith. He begged the child to return +with him to Marak, so as to convince him also. The babe replied “Go back to Tatta. +There stand on the banks of the Indus and call me and I shall come.” +</p> +<p>Aho went back to Tatta and told Marak. The governor was frightened out of his wits, +still he ordered Aho to go to the river bank and call on Udero Lal to rise from the +river. Aho did so and as the words left his lips, a tall beautiful youth, riding <span class="pageNum" id="pb14">[<a href="#pb14">14</a>]</span>a noble steed, rose from the river and behind him followed thousands of soldiers and +horsemen, chariots and war elephants. The terrified minister fell at Udero Lal’s feet +and begged him to send away the mighty army that followed in his footsteps. The youth +turned round and dismissed his warriors. A moment later the great army had vanished +into the depths of the Indus. Aho led Udero Lal into Marak’s presence and told him +the marvels that he had witnessed. Marak instantly seated Udero Lal on his right hand +and craved his advice. Udero Lal bade him to cease from his cruelty to his Hindu subjects. +But while Marak listened with pious looks to Udero Lal’s words, his heart was full +of black treachery. After he had escorted with all reverence the beautiful youth to +one of his palaces, he ordered his soldiers to surround it. For he now plotted to +convert to Islam not only his Hindu subjects but Udero Lal also. But it was idle to +strive to bind the Indus river. When the kazi and the surgeon came to convert him +he had vanished. +</p> +<p>The indignant Marak resolved not to give his Hindu subjects a day’s more grace and +announced that he would convert or kill them all that very evening. They went to Ratno’s +house. There they found Udero Lal, once more a baby in the cradle. They prayed to +the divine child and he bade them go to the river and sit in a temple that they would +find there. When all the Hindus had assembled, a fearful thunderstorm burst and fire +from heaven consumed the palace of the governor and the houses of his officers. Marak, +Aho and the kazi, although badly burnt, escaped from the conflagration and ran to +the river. There they saw a splendid temple and in it were seated Udero Lal, once +more a beautiful youth and round him thousands of Hindus, perfectly sheltered from +the storm that had fallen on Tatta. The three wicked men fell at Udero Lal’s <span class="pageNum" id="pb15">[<a href="#pb15">15</a>]</span>feet and Marak took a mighty oath never again to harass the Hindus. Udero Lal then +bade the winds be still and the storm at once passed away. Udero Lal vanished and +so did the magic temple. But the Hindus built on the spot a real one of stone that +stands to this day. Lights burn in it day and night and it is known as the Khudio +temple or the temple of Refuge. +</p> +<p>When the Hindus went to Nasarpur to tell Ratno and Devki how their child had helped +them, they found Udero Lal once more a baby sleeping peacefully in his cradle. Nothing +further happened until Udero Lal was a little boy of six, when his mother Devki thought +that he might help his father by hawking cooked gram too. She gave him a tiny jar +of cooked gram and bade him hawk it through the streets of Nasarpur, taking payment +either in cash or in kind. That evening Udero Lal brought back a huge pot full of +grain and gave it to his mother. This went on for several days until his parents grew +more and more curious to know how he got grain many times its value for the cooked +gram. Next day they followed him and they saw their little son go to the river bank +and dip the jar of cooked gram into the water. When he pulled it out again, it had +become a great pot brimming over with grain. When Udero Lal was ten and old enough +to be invested with the sacred thread, he asked to be given a guru. He took his father +and mother to the river bank and found sitting near it the great God Shiva. Udero +Lal went up fearlessly to the mighty God and told him that he had come in search of +a guru. The god replied “Why do you, who are the guru of gurus, want a guru?” Udero +Lal pleaded that even Vishnu’s avatars, such as Rama and Krishna had had their gurus, +why then should one be denied to him? It so chanced that the saint Gorakhnath passed +by at that moment and Shiva bade him <span class="pageNum" id="pb16">[<a href="#pb16">16</a>]</span>take Udero Lal as his pupil. Gorakhnath did so and taught him all his holiness and +wisdom. +</p> +<p>Now Udero Lal had a cousin called Phugar, who was greatly attached to him. He made +Phugar his disciple and taught him the learning which he had received from Gorakhnath. +One day to test Phugar’s faith he told him that he wished to be alone and meditate. +But Phugar refused to leave his master’s side. “Will you plunge with me into the Indus?” +asked Udero Lal. “Where you go, I go,” was the reply. Udero Lal took his cousin’s +hand and dived into the river. A few minutes later they came to the surface and found +themselves in mid-stream between Rohri and Sukkur. In front of them was a little island +on which they climbed. This was the famous island of Zinda Pir, of whom more hereafter. +Master and pupil stayed there some weeks until Udero Lal learnt that Ratno and Devki +were both very ill at Nasarpur. He reached his birthplace in time to bid them farewell. +But their deaths preyed on his mind and he longed to rejoin the mighty river from +which he had sprung. He first called to him his elder brothers Somo and Bhayandev +and bade them give up the things of this world and like Phugar become his disciples. +But though they promised always to worship light and water, they would not give up +all and follow him. Udero Lal then declared that Phugar would be his only disciple. +He called him and gave him the following seven gifts:— +</p> +<ul> +<li>A <span lang="und">Var</span> or ring that fulfilled every wish of the wearer. +</li> +<li>A <span lang="und">Jot</span> or lamp that gave to him who looked into its flame a vision of the Most High. +</li> +<li>A <span lang="und">Kanta</span> or quilt that guarded the wearer from demons and from human weapons. +</li> +<li>A <span lang="und">Deg</span> or cooking pot that remained always full of food. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb17">[<a href="#pb17">17</a>]</span></li> +<li>A Tegh or sword that put to flight the five evil passions—<span lang="und">kam</span> or lust, <span lang="und">krodh</span> or anger, <span lang="und">lobh</span> or greed, <span lang="und">moh</span> or love of the things of this world and <span lang="und">ahankar</span> or selfishness. +</li> +<li>A <span lang="und">Jhari</span> or pitcher that remained always full of Ganges water. +</li> +<li>A <span lang="und">Daklo</span> or musical instrument that reproduced the songs sung in heaven.</li> +</ul><p> +</p> +<p>When twelve years old Udero Lal bade Phugar choose a spot, whereon to build him a +temple, as he meant soon to leave the earth. Phugar chose an open field owned by a +Memon. The saint asked the Memon to give him the land. The Memon refused but offered +to sell it. Udero Lal scratched with his spear the surface of the earth and shewed +the astonished Memon treasures of gold and silver. Then he drove his spear deep into +the ground and it became a mighty kabar tree. The Memon was so startled that he went +away to take counsel of his wife. On his return he bade the saint take the field as +a gift. All he asked, was that he might be the majavar or attendant of Udero Lal’s +tomb. The saint blessed him and promised him that his life long he would never lack +food. Udero Lal took another spear and smote the ground with it. Up spouted a fountain +of clear water. He mounted his horse; the earth opened in front of him. Spurring his +horse he leapt into the yawning pit. +</p> +<p>At first Phugar was broken-hearted and nearly died of grief. One night he saw in a +dream Udero Lal who bade him put away his grief and build a temple on the spot where +the saint had vanished. Where the water had spouted from the ground he was to sink +a well and near it to build a rest-house. When the saint’s wishes were known, all +Nasarpur flocked to Phugar’s <span class="pageNum" id="pb18">[<a href="#pb18">18</a>]</span>aid. Even the wicked Marak and his minister and kazi offered their help. But while +the Hindus wished to build a temple, Marak and the <span class="corr" id="xd33e535" title="Source: Musalmans">Musulmans</span> wished to build a mosque and quarrels broke out between them. At last they resolved +to take the advice of Udero Lal himself. All one night they kept vigil until they +heard a voice that said “In my sight there is neither caste nor creed.” Pacified, +they built both mosque and temple. Of the temple Phugar was made guardian and Marak +named the Memon the mujavar of the mosque. From that day on, lamps have burnt night +and day in both temple and mosque. The rest-house built by Phugar may be seen to this +day and near it is the well, which grateful pilgrims have called Balambho or the well +of ever-running water. +</p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<div class="footnote-body"> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e461"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e461src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> <i>i.e.</i> That he had gone mad. <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e461src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch3" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e240">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">JINDA PIR.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">In my last chapter I related how the saint Udero Lal and his disciple Phugar, after +diving into the Indus near Nasarpur, came to the surface between Rohri and Sukkur +and landed on a rocky island. The island is still there and bears on its rounded back +a temple to Zinda Pir. According to the Hindus Zinda or the living Pir is none other +than Udero Lal. According to the Musulmans he is somebody quite different. +</p> +<p>According to the Musulmans, the river Indus flowed once past Alor and not past Rohri. +Somewhere in the tenth century A.D. a Hindu king called Dalurai ruled at Alor. He +and his brother Sasu Rai practised every kind of abomination. Such were their wickedness +and their vigour that they enforced the <i lang="la">jus primae noctis</i> on every young lady, who was married within their dominions. On one occasion a pious +Musulman merchant named Shah Hussein was going down the Indus, so that he might sail +from its mouth to Arabia and visit Mecca. With <span class="pageNum" id="pb19">[<a href="#pb19">19</a>]</span>him journeyed his beautiful daughter. On the way they stopped at Alor and the beauty +of the merchant’s daughter was noised abroad and reached the ears of <span class="corr" id="xd33e548" title="Source: king">King</span> Dalurai, who instantly demanded that she should be sent to his palace. But neither +Shah Hussain nor his daughter had any wish that she should become the concubine of +a Hindu king. They both prayed fervently to Zinda Pir. He appeared in a vision to +the young girl and bade her and her father board their boat and weigh anchor. They +did so and the stream at Zinda Pir’s command, changed its course and leaving Alor, +brought the boat and its burden to Rohri. When Shah Hussain awoke next morning, he +was close to Udero Lal’s island. To it he moored his boat and built the temple, that +stands there to this day. On it are the words “Darga Ali.” These give the date 341 +A.H. or 961 A.D. +</p> +<p>The above tale explains the foundation of the temple but it does not tell us who the +saint himself was. Earnest Christians will hear with surprise that he is none other +than their old friend the prophet Elijah. They will probably exclaim with <span class="corr" id="xd33e553" title="Source: Moliere’s">Molière’s</span> M. Géronte “<span lang="fr">Mais que diable allait-il faire dans cette galère?</span>” It was this way. According to the Islamic legend, Elijah was in a former life a +very holy man indeed, named Balya Ebn Malkan. Because of the colour of his garment, +he was also known as Al Khisr or the Prophet of the Green robe. Balya Ebn Malkan was +the contemporary of Moses and in Chapter 18 of the Koran we find him going with Moses +on a most interesting circular tour. The story is shortly this. Once the great Jewish +sage was preaching to his people with such wisdom and eloquence that at the close +of his sermon, they asked him whether there was any man in the world wiser than he +was. Conscious of his great powers, he replied in the negative. That night God appeared +to him in a dream, rebuked him for his <span class="pageNum" id="pb20">[<a href="#pb20">20</a>]</span>vanity and told him that his servant Al Khisr was wiser than he was. Moses asked where +he could meet this paragon of wisdom. God answered that Moses would find Al Khisr +near a rock where two seas met. If Moses took a fish with him in a basket, the spot +where he missed the fish would be the place where the prophet of the green robe dwelt. +Moses took Joshua and a fish with him and in due course missed the fish and found +the prophet. Moses asked leave to be Al Khisr’s disciple and to learn his wisdom. +Al Khisr answered that if Moses came and suffered all that Al Khisr did without asking +any questions he could be his disciple, but not otherwise. Moses promised to do so +and the two prophets went to the sea shore and boarded a ship. Al Khisr at once made +a hole in the bottom of it. Moses indignantly asked whether he wanted to drown every +soul on board. But his companion sternly reminded Moses of his promise and left the +ship. A little later they met a youth. Al Khisr struck him so violently on the head +that he died at once. Moses angrily asked why he had taken an innocent life. Al Khisr +again rebuked him and went his way to a city. There they saw a crumbling wall which +the citizens could not repair. Al Khisr touched the wall with his hand and it became +as if it had been newly built. Moses asked him why he did not claim from the citizens +a rich reward. Al Khisr then turned on his unfortunate disciple and cast him forth. +“Three times” said Al Khisr, “you have broken your promise and questioned my acts. +You are not worthy to be my pupil. I made a hole in the ship to save it from the king’s +men. Had it been seaworthy, they would have taken the ship by force and given the +owner nothing. I killed the youth, because although the son of true believers, he +was himself an unbeliever and I feared lest he should corrupt the faith of his parents. +I repaired the wall for nothing, because hidden <span class="pageNum" id="pb21">[<a href="#pb21">21</a>]</span>under it was a treasure, which a righteous man had buried there before he died. He +left two orphan sons and it is God’s will that when they reach man’s state, they shall +find their father’s treasure.” +</p> +<p>During Al Khisr’s existence as Balya Ebn Malkan he found and drank the waters of immortality. +That was why as Elijah he did not die, but was transported to heaven in a fiery chariot. +And because he drank the waters of immortality, he is always connected with running +water; and with what nobler stream, could he be associated than the Indus, as it passes +through the Sukkur gorge? +</p> +<p>To-day the special duty of Zinda Pir is to help the Indus boatmen when in distress. +His functions are thus similar to those of the ancient Dioscuri, of whom Macaulay +wrote: +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“Safe comes the ship to harbour +</p> +<p class="line xd33e567">Through billows and through gales +</p> +<p class="line">If once the great twin brethren +</p> +<p class="line xd33e567">Sit shining on the sails.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">The Indus is terribly dangerous in July and August, when the mighty river swollen +by the melting snows of the Himalayas comes tearing and tossing through the gorge. +So one who has seen the Indus in flood can <span class="corr" id="xd33e574" title="Source: ever">never</span> forget the sight. It is then that the boatmen pray to Al Khisr. To attend more closely +to their prayers, Al Khisr comes in person to his temple and for forty days sits in +a little niche specially reserved for him. The niche has comfortable cushions and +in front of it is laid a copy of the Koran. The saint is invisible, but the mujavars +or attendants of the mosque or temple know that he has been there; for when the forty +days begin they place in front of the niche the Koran open at the first page and when +the forty days are past, they find the Koran open at the last <span class="pageNum" id="pb22">[<a href="#pb22">22</a>]</span>page. Elijah has in his leisure moments read the Koran from cover to cover. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch4" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e249">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">ABDUL LATIF, <span class="sc">the Author of</span> SHAH JO RISALO.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Abdul Latif’s grandfather Shah Karim was a Sayad of Matari and so celebrated for his +piety that his mausoleum at Bulree in the Karachi District is still the scene of an +annual fair. Shah Karim was born in 1558 A.D. and died it is said in 1660 A.D. The +tale runs that while Shah Karim was yet a boy, he met a fakir in a mosque. The fakir +had been a soldier, but the awful consequences of war had so preyed on his mind that +he had deserted the army. Shah Karim became the spiritual follower of this fakir and +grew up so renowned a saint that it was commonly said that whereas Bahawaldin, a rival +saint, could make a live man dead, Shah Karim could make a dead man alive. Shah Karim +removed to Bulree and had three sons, one of whom Shah Habib was the father of Abdul +Latif, the subject of our article. The date of his birth is to be found in the Persian +line on his mausoleum. +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p lang="und" class="line">Gardeed mahw ishk wujoode Latif Meer. +</p> +<p class="line">(The spirit of the lordly Latif was absorbed in love).</p> +</div> +<p class="first">According to the Abjad system, this gives the date of his death as 1751 A.D. As he +was sixty-three when he died, he was born in 1688 A.D. He thus lived to see the establishment +of the Kalhora dynasty, the invasion of Nadir Shah in 1739 and that of Ahmad Shah +Durani in 1748. +</p> +<p>Abdul Latif fell in love with a beautiful Moghul girl, the daughter of one Mirza Beg. +He was said to be a descendant of Mirza Jani Beg of the Turkhan dynasty, whose tombs +are among the Makli Hills. Abdul Latif serenaded the lovely girl in verses written +by himself, until he was ordered off the premises <span class="pageNum" id="pb23">[<a href="#pb23">23</a>]</span>by her father. Undefeated, he turned himself into a pigeon and cooed his love to the +fair maiden from the trellis of her balcony. Even so Mirza Beg with a father’s vigilance +pierced his disguise and threatened to set his falcons on Abdul Latif, unless he flew +away. The unhappy Abdul Latif went and sat on a sandhill and watched the house of +the Moghul girl with such devotion from afar, that the sandhill grew round him until +it had covered all but his head. A goatherd Jam by name who passed saw his head sticking +out. He told Abdul Latif’s father, Shah Habib, who had his son dug up. But Abdul Latif +was still beside himself with amorous passion. He went to a carpenter and induced +him to hollow out a tamarisk tree, that stood by itself in a cemetery. Latif got inside +the hollow tree and looked out on the world through a single cleft. In vain Shah Habib +sought everywhere for his son. At last his lamentations touched the heart of the carpenter, +who shewed him his son’s hiding place. Shah Habib took his son home, but an evil fate +overtook the carpenter. As a punishment for betraying Abdul Latif’s hiding place, +he became a leper. Shah Habib licked the sores, so that they healed, all save one +obstinate one that remained open on his forehead. +</p> +<p>Abdul Latif did not stay long in his father’s house, but began to wander about Sind. +One day he came to Lakhpat. There he saw some Sami fakirs worshipping an idol, probably +of Parvati. They were pouring milk over it and as they did so, they repeated “O Grandmother, +drink this milk.” But the idol being of stone, hearkened not at all. Latif went into +the village, bought a bowl full of milk and stood close to the idol. In one hand he +held his shoe and then he said to the idol “O Grandmother of the Samis, drink this +milk or I shall beat you with this shoe.” The idol no longer hearkened not. Terrified +at the threat, it drank up all the milk in the bowl. The Sami <span class="pageNum" id="pb24">[<a href="#pb24">24</a>]</span>fakirs were filled with wonder and envy. After Abdul Latif had left the spot, they +plotted to kill and eat him, so as to obtain his supernatural powers. They invited +him to a feast, intending to make their guest the principal dish. But Abdul Latif +by his inner knowledge guessed their wickedness and departed. +</p> +<p>As he journeyed he met another fakir, whose beautiful face was haggard and worn, as +if with care. As the fakir walked, he cried always “<span>Jhal fakir, Hal fakir</span> (Take it fakir, go fakir).<span class="corr" id="xd33e603" title="Not in source">”</span> Abdul Latif asked him why he did it. The fakir refused to tell him, unless Abdul +Latif promised to help him to win what he sought. “If,” said the fakir, “I win my +goal through your help, I shall get you a Burat or letter of salvation.” The saint +gave his promise and the fakir told him what ailed him. Some months before he had +met a jungle tribe and had daily begged from them. Whenever he did so, a lovely maiden +of the tribe had given him alms and as she gave them, she repeated these words “Jhal +fakir, Hal fakir.” The beauty of the girl’s voice and face had burnt into his brain. +When the tribe left, he could think of nothing but of her and he set out to seek her. +As he went, he repeated her words in the hope of finding her. Abdul Latif by his inner +knowledge soon located the jungle tribe. With the fakir he went to their camp and +began to recite to them his verses. They were so charmed with the verses that they +asked him to name his reward. He told them to send the lovely girl to the hut wherein +he had put his humble belongings. The girl was sent and in the hut the fakir awaited +her. Their eyes met, but the storm of passion that swept over both of them was too +mighty for their strength to bear. They fell back lifeless into Abdul Latif’s arms. +He called the girl’s parents and told them the tale of the fakir’s wooing and its +tragic end. At his request the man and the maiden were buried in the same grave. That +night Abdul Latif watched by the <span class="pageNum" id="pb25">[<a href="#pb25">25</a>]</span>grave, for he had not yet received the Burat or letter of salvation. At midnight a +woman’s hand rose from the grave and offered him a letter. But Abdul Latif doubted +the virtue of a Burat that came from a woman. “I shall not take the Burat,” he said, +“unless he who promised it to me gives it.” The girl’s voice answered that that was +impossible. The fakir for very shame, she said, dared ask nothing from God. He had +not been able to hide his love but to the whole world had told his sorrows. Her love +had been as ardent as his, but she had had the strength to hide it. It was at her +request that God had given the Burat and the saint must take it from her hands. +</p> +<p>Another time Abdul Latif went to Kotri and there exposed the impostures of the Mullas +who surrounded the governor Lalla Beg. At their instigation the cruel ruler ordered +Abdul Latif to be impaled and then cut to pieces. When the executioners went to Shah +Latif’s house to seize him, they found him already dead and dismembered. As they returned +to tell Lalla Beg, they saw the saint standing in the roadside alive and well. They +spoke of these marvels to Lalla Beg, who at once remitted the sentence. +</p> +<p>Abdul Latif, before he started on his wanderings, had, because of his unsatisfied +love for the Moghul girl, cursed the whole tribe of the Moghuls, who then lived in +Sind. All this time his curse had been quietly working. One by one they had died off, +including the <span class="corr" id="xd33e610" title="Source: hard hearted">hard-hearted</span> Mirza Beg. Of all the Moghul children only one boy Gulla by name survived and the +beautiful girl, whom Abdul Latif loved. Freed from her father’s cruelty by his death, +she no longer hesitated but sought out and found her lover. With her she took her +kinsman Gulla. Abdul Latif overjoyed at her coming recalled his curse and Gulla lived +to be the ancestor of many Moghuls thereafter. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb26">[<a href="#pb26">26</a>]</span></p> +<p>Abdul Latif, or as we should now call him Latif Shah, did not settle down to enjoy +his wedded happiness at Varsum, where Shah Habib had lived and where he himself had +been born. Near it was the tomb of an earlier saint Nuh Halani. The jealous spirit +of the dead saint envied Latif Shah’s happiness and glory. Nuh Halani’s spirit haunted +Shah Latif night and day. In despair Shah Latif sought the aid of Bahawal Hak, a holy +man of Multan. He advised him to consult Sayad Mahmad Massum Shah. The latter in turn +advised him to migrate to Bhitta, then a desolate mound of sand. Latif Shah obeyed +the Sayad, but even at Bhitta—<i lang="la">tantaene animis caelestibus irae</i>—he was not safe from persecution. Nuh Halani changed the spirit of a former disciple +into a huge snake and bade it bite the unhappy Shah Latif. But the latter prayed to +Sayad Mahmad Massum Shah and with his aid and his own sanctity, he tamed the snake +and kept it in a cage, as a trophy of his victory. Nuh Halani’s descendant Makhdum +Mahmad Zaman could not bear the sight. He redeemed the snake at the cost of a vast +stretch of country and turning the snake again into a spirit, sent it back to do service +to Nuh Halani in the house of Hades. +</p> +<p>“Happy is the wooing that’s not long in the doing,” is an old English proverb and +perhaps it was of the long delay in the union of Shah Latif and his bride, that they +were not blessed with children. Two legends are told to account for this calamity. +One is that Shah Latif drew after him the son of one Jani, who in anger cursed the +saint that his wife should bear him no sons. Latif Shah accepted the curse and consoled +himself with the remark that his disciples were his sons. The second legend is that +Latif Shah’s wife, a year after marriage, was expecting a child. After the manner +of women in delicate health, she had strange longings. One day she sent her maid-servant +to a great distance to get a certain kind of fish. Latif <span class="pageNum" id="pb27">[<a href="#pb27">27</a>]</span>Shah missed the maid-servant and asked whither she had gone. On learning what had +happened, he flew into a rage—if I may say such a thing of so holy a man. He cursed +his unborn child, saying “If the child gives all this trouble now, what terrible trouble +it will give when it is grown up! May such a blossom be nipped in the bud.” The child +was still-born and no other came to soothe the poor mother’s grief. +</p> +<p>It was at Bhitta that Shah Latif wrote the Shah jo Rasalo. When he had finished it, +his two faithful disciples Tamar and Hashim brought it to him. As he read over the +lines in which he had told the sorrows of Saswi, he exclaimed that the verses did +not truly convey a spiritual meaning, but were full of sinful passion. As he said +this, he flung the great work into the Kirar Dandh, a lake close by. His horrified +disciples beseeched him to let them write the Shah jo Rasalo from memory. Reluctantly +he consented and the Shah jo Rasalo was saved. +</p> +<p>Shah Latif died in 1751 at the age of 63, three years after Ahmad Shah Durani’s invasion. +The saint’s body lies in a splendid tomb designed by a celebrated mason of Sukkur, +under the orders of Ghulam Shah Kalhoro. The door with silver bars was added by Mir +Mahmad and a deep well for the use of pilgrims was sunk in the courtyard by one Laung +Fakir. The Pir of the tomb is the descendant of Jam the goatherd, who found Shah Latif +buried up to the neck in sand. Every Friday night pilgrims keep watch by the tomb +and sing passages from the saint’s immortal poem. This custom had its origin in a +dream dreamt by his disciple Hashim. After his master’s death, he was ill of fever +and could not get well. One night Shah Latif appeared to him in a vision and bade +him recite on the following Friday some lines from the Shah jo Rasalo. He did so and +was cured. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb28">[<a href="#pb28">28</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch5" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e258">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main"><span class="corr" id="xd33e630" title="Source: MAKDUM">MAKHDUM</span> NIAMAT ULLAH AND <span class="corr" id="xd33e633" title="Source: MAKDUM">MAKHDUM</span> NUH.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Early in the 18th century the greatest saint in Sind was <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Niamat Ullah, the father of a still greater religious luminary, the famous <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Nuh. So renowned was <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Niamat Ullah that an ancient fakir more than a hundred years old and known as La +Ikhtyar or the Independent One was so affected by the stories told of the saintly +<span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Niamat Ullah, that he gave up his independent life and went to Torio in the Hala +taluka on the chance of seeing the object of his admiration. Torio was not <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Niamat’s usual place of residence, but La Ikhtyar had had a vision that it would +be at Torio that he would see the Desired One. +</p> +<p>After some weeks <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Niamat Ullah did go to Torio on business and passed La Ikhtyar, as he sat on his +cot. At once the old fakir recognised the passer-by from the radiant glow on his countenance. +The fakir got off his cot and made the saint sit on it and knelt at his feet. But +as <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> sat, the fakir’s tame birds of which he had a large number suddenly flew away. The +saint asked the reason and was told that he would be the father of a son who would +love to shoot birds. When the fakir’s pets learnt this, they had flown away in terror. +After bidding the fakir goodbye, <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Niamat Ullah walked into the bazaar. As he passed a Hindu’s shop, the owner’s wife +fell so desperately in love with him, that she begged him to take her away from her +husband and marry her. The saint could not stoop to such wickedness; but to get rid +of her importunities, he promised to fetch her away that very night. He left her and +went to take a siesta in the shade of a high wall, some streets away. As he slept, +a certain Amin, the chief of the Lankas, passed by on his way to Lower Sind. He had +with him a comely marriageable daughter, who at once fell in love with the sleeping +saint. Amin woke up <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Niamat Ullah and <span class="pageNum" id="pb29">[<a href="#pb29">29</a>]</span>offered his daughter to him in marriage. The saint gladly accepted the offer and was +married to the beautiful girl the same evening. Next morning the Hindu woman saw the +saint and going up to him, reproached him for not keeping his tryst. The saint explained +that he was now a married man and must cleave to his wife. He, however, blessed the +amorous Hindu lady and nine months from that very day, she presented to her husband +a son called Zabhar. +</p> +<p>On the same day as Zabhar was born, the wife of Makhdum Niamat Ullah presented her +lord with a son, the celebrated <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Nuh. Even as a tiny baby, <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Nuh shewed his precocious saintliness. When only six days old, he compelled the fakir +La Ikhtyar, who was his devoted slave, to go through the ceremony of becoming his +disciple. The fakir lived until his infantile preceptor was five years old; then he +died at the ripe age of 106 and his tomb may still be seen at Old Hala. His reputation +for independence has survived him and many persons who are in difficulties still visit +his tomb and ask the Independent One for his advice. +</p> +<p><span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Nuh took to the Koran, as the proverbial duck takes to water. At the age of seven +he knew the mighty book by heart. At the age of fourteen he was vouchsafed a vision +of no less a personage than Mahomed himself. As <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Nuh was washing in the river his slate on which he had written some lines of the +Koran, he saw a boat approach. In it were the Prophet, his son-in-law Ali and Huzrat +Isa or Jesus. The boat stopped and the Holy Prophet called <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Nuh by name. The boy went up to the boat and Jesus took his slate and wrote on one +side of it fourteen lines. Then Ali took it and wrote on it eighteen lines and the +boat glided away. The astonished <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Nuh took his slate to his teacher, who found that what was written on it far transcended +even his understanding. <span class="pageNum" id="pb30">[<a href="#pb30">30</a>]</span>He asked his pupil what hand had written the lines. <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Nuh told him about the three strangers in the boat; thereupon his teacher guessed +what had happened and embraced the boy, as one to whom the Prophet had vouchsafed +a vision. +</p> +<p><span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Nuh became when he grew up, as prophesied by the fakir, a great bird-shot; but he +also worked many and mighty miracles. His most famous achievement was connected with +the great mosque at Tatta. This mosque had been built at a cost of many lakhs of rupees +by the orders of the Moghul Emperor. When it was completed, the faithful noted with +dismay that it did not correctly face the Kaaba. This was too dreadful for words; +for unless a mosque faces the Kaaba properly, it is useless. The faithful, too, of +Tatta had been bragging loudly to their neighbours about their future mosque and they +now would be exposed to their mocking laughter. The faithful of Tatta appealed to +<span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Nuh. He called to his aid another holy man Ali Shirazi and they assailed Allah with +continuous and soul-compelling prayers. At first nothing happened and the faithful +began to murmur discordantly at the failure of the two saints. “But verily” as the +Koran has it, “some suspicions are as sins.” Another half hour’s steady prayer and +the great edifice began to quiver. <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Nuh then called on all true Musulmans present to tie ropes to the building and pull +it round; and lo! and behold! under the combined pressure of the prayers of the saints +and the pushings of the faithful, the great mosque turned round slowly and then stopped +dead. It had come to face exactly in the true direction of Mecca. +</p> +<p>Even a man so holy as <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Nuh could not escape from the malice of mankind. He had two great friends Muzaffar +and Salar. Salar had promised his daughter in marriage to <span class="pageNum" id="pb31">[<a href="#pb31">31</a>]</span>Muzaffar’s son. Unhappily a quarrel broke out between these two eminent men and Salar +refused to give his daughter. Now in Sind marriageable girls are few and this was +a home thrust. Muzaffar complained to <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Nuh, who after hearing both sides ordered Salar to keep his promise. Salar obeyed, +<i lang="fr">la mort dans <span class="corr" id="xd33e717" title="Source: lâme">l’âme</span></i>; but he vented his spleen by cursing the said saint in the following quatrain: +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“O Makhdum, you have done an act not pleasing to God; You have set at nought what +God had ordained. +</p> +<p class="line">You will suffer by having your corpse put in three different places after your death.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">The curse of this impious blasphemer was unhappily fulfilled. The river Indus twice +threatened the spot where <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Nuh had been buried. The second time the river approached so rapidly that the disciples +had to remove their master’s body in broad daylight instead of at night, as was seemly. +Heaven, however, came to their help. As they began to lift the body from the grave, +the sky became overcast and a mist as thick as a London fog spread over the land, +so that none could see the decaying remains of one who in life had been strong and +beautiful. The saint’s body found its last resting place about two miles to the west +of Old Hala. A small town has sprung up round the tomb and is known as Murtazabad. +A beautiful mausoleum now stands over <span class="corr" title="Source: Makdum">Makhdum</span> Nuh’s grave and the cupola over it was erected in 1795 A.D. by Mir Fateh Ali Khan +Talpur. On the tomb were engraved the following words in order to silence possible +slanderers of the dead man: +</p> +<div class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">“If the wind were to blow furiously all over the world +</p> +<p class="line">It could never extinguish the lamp of those accepted by the Most High. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb32">[<a href="#pb32">32</a>]</span></p> +<p class="line">Men who spit on a lamp, lit by Almighty God soon find that they have in their folly, +set fire to their own beards.”</p> +</div> +<p class="first">According to my chronicler, these lines had an excellent effect. They were the proper +stuff to hand out to the back-biters. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch6" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e272">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">HAIDARABAD.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Haidarabad was once known as Nerankot and the king of it was Raja Neran. He had a +beautiful daughter, who, from the exquisite skill with which she darkened her eyes +with Kanjal or lampblack, reddened her cheeks with rouge and coloured her finger nails +with henna, was known as Nigar or the Painted lady. Her courage was, if possible, +greater even than her beauty. She scorned to ride camels or horses, as other well +born Hindu ladies did. The only beast she would bestride was a lion and every evening +outside Nerankot she might have been seen riding a splendid maned lion, who, when +bridled by her, was as docile as the meekest ambling palfrey, to the touch of her +finger on the reins. Nor would she suffer cowardice in others. She vowed and made +public her vow that she would wed no man who feared to saddle and mount a lion. +</p> +<p class="tb"></p><p> +</p> +<p>It so happened that Shah Makai and Haidar Ali came about this time to Sind. Shah Makai’s +real name was Shah Mahmud; but because he lived at Maka or Mecca, he was known as +Shah Makai. Haidar Ali’s real name was Ali. But, because as a child he had torn to +pieces a live snake with his bare hands, he was called Haidar Ali or the Ali who tore +the “Hai” or snake. His fortune was as great as his childhood foretold; for in due +course he became the son-in-law of the holy prophet and the fourth Imam of the Faithful. +As the two friends journeyed <span class="pageNum" id="pb33">[<a href="#pb33">33</a>]</span>through Sind, they came to hear the fame of Nigar’s beauty and courage. Straightway +they hastened to Nerankot and one evening Shah Makai saw the lovely girl astride of +her lion, riding outside the walls. He fell madly in love with her. Then he heard +that she had vowed not to marry anyone, unless he could tame and mount a lion. Shah +Makai as a true and devout believer, had but little difficulty in performing this +feat and the next time that Nigar rode abroad, she saw to her surprise and pleasure +Shah Makai astride of a maned lion, hardly less majestic than her own. She asked him +who he was; and learning that he had broken in the lion for love of her, she vowed +that she would wed him and no other. Shah Makai sought an audience of Neran Raja and +asked for his daughter’s hand. Nigar, too, pressed her father to give his consent +to the marriage. But the proud <span class="corr" id="xd33e748" title="Source: King’s">king’s</span> heart was as hard as stone and although he heard the full tale of Shah Makai’s courtship, +he refused to give his daughter to one who was not a Hindu, but a Mleccha. With contumely +he drove Shah Makai from his Court. When Nigar vowed that in spite of her father she +would wed the bold Arabian, Raja Neran threw her into a well and had a huge stone +put over its mouth. The evil news reached Shah Makai. He tried to move the stone; +but it was so big, that even he, saint though he was, failed. He implored the help +of Haidar Ali. To that pillar of Islam the task was light. He mounted his white mule +Dhul Dhul and made it dance on the top of the stone. Then he dismounted and throwing +himself at full length on the ground, he prayed Allah to remove it. He had hardly +finished his prayer, when the stone rolled aside and Nigar with Haidar Ali’s help +was able to climb out of the well. He gave her to Shah Makai, who carried her off +in triumph. But Haidar Ali cursed the wicked Neran; and stretching wide the five fingers +of his right hand made the <i>bhundo</i> sign at him. <span class="pageNum" id="pb34">[<a href="#pb34">34</a>]</span>Not long afterwards the curse was fulfilled. The Arabs landing on the sea coast of +Sind swept through the land, stormed Nerankot and killed Raja Neran. For many centuries +Nerankot lay in ruins. Then the wise and pious Ghulam Shah Kalhoro came to the spot +and deeming it well fitted for the site of his capital city, he rebuilt Nerankot. +While the new fortress was building, he raised a small mud stronghold close to the +spot where Shah Makai and the beautiful Painted Lady were in their old age buried +side by side. When Nerankot was finished, Ghulam Shah Kalhoro went to live in it and +renamed it Haidarabad after Haidar Ali. He gave his mud stronghold to the Fakirs who +guarded Shah Makai’s tomb. <span class="corr" id="xd33e755" title="Source: Upto">Up to</span> Burton’s time a lion—said to be a descendant of Nigar’s riding lion—used to be kept +in a cage under a tamarind tree, close to Shah Makai’s last resting place. The tree +still stands, but the lion has vanished. The rise in the price of lion’s food was +no doubt the cause of its disappearance. +</p> +<p>About a quarter of a mile from the tomb of Shah Makai is another small but holy building +known as Shah Kadam. Within it are preserved the stones on which Haidar Ali’s white +mule Dhul Dhul did its miracle-working dance. Its hoof marks may still be seen stamped +deep in the stone. By its side a slab bears the marks of Haidar Ali’s hands, knees, +feet and forehead, which he made when he prostrated himself in prayer before Allah. +And a third stone bears the marks of the saint’s fingers and thumb when he made the +<i>bhundo</i> at Raja Neran. So violent was the Imam’s curse that it has lived on, <i lang="la">monumentum aere perennius</i>. The well into which Nigar was thrown is one of the three inside Nerankot, but none +could tell me with certainty which it was. Perhaps the most interesting relic of that +golden time is a great “djar” tree that grows near Shah Makai’s tomb. The guardian +of the shrine assured me that it <span class="pageNum" id="pb35">[<a href="#pb35">35</a>]</span>had grown from a bit of stick, which the saint had one day used as a toothbrush and +then carelessly thrown aside. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch7" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e281">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">BRAHMANABAD.—I.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">The ruined town of Brahmanabad, probably the most interesting spot in Sind, lies about +eleven miles from Shahdadpur. A road sufficiently good for a Ford Car leads thither +and a run there on a cold weather morning is a bracing and exhilarating experience. +When Brahmanabad is reached one sees, as far as the eye can range, an endless waste +of brick ruins, the site of a once mighty city. It flourished in the time of Alexander. +It was still great in the eighth century when Mahomed Kasim invaded Sind. What caused +its downfall? The whole question was admirably discussed in 1854 by Mr. Bellasis of +the Indian Civil Service. His conclusion was that the city had been overwhelmed by +an earthquake, which at the same time changed the bed of the Indus, formerly close +by the city walls and the source of its greatness. The destruction of Brahmanabad, +wrote Mr. Bellasis, was so complete that it could not have been caused by a fire or +by a hostile force. There were, moreover, no signs of fire. There were quantities +of jewellery among the ruins, which neither fugitive inhabitants nor an enemy would +have left. At the same time there were many skeletons visible in corners and doorways—the +skeletons of men and women overwhelmed, no doubt, as they sought to escape. The skeletons +have long ago gone to manure the neighbouring fields, just as the bricks of the houses +in which they once lived are to be found in the villages round about. Still we may +safely accept the evidence of Mr. Bellasis as well as the accuracy of his conclusions. +But if Brahmanabad was overwhelmed by an earthquake, what were the <span class="corr" id="xd33e771" title="Source: circumtsances">circumstances</span> attending it? We have no historical record. <span class="pageNum" id="pb36">[<a href="#pb36">36</a>]</span>But there exist two legends—a Musulman and a Hindu legend. They differ widely from +each other, only agreeing in this that the end of Brahmanabad came because of God’s +wrath at the wickedness of its ruler, Dalu Rai. I shall relate the Musulman legend +first. It is to be found in the Tufat-ul-Kiram and runs somewhat as follows: +</p> +<blockquote> +<p class="first">Once upon a time there ruled over the city of Brahmanabad a Hindu king, called Dalu +Rai (May Allah confound him!) whose wickedness is still well remembered in the land +of Sind. He had, however, a brother called Chota Amrani, who had given up <i>kufar</i> or ingratitude and had won immortal happiness by embracing Islam. He had left Brahmanabad +and had committed to memory the whole Koran and also all the customs of the True Believers. +On his return to the city his relatives wanted him to marry; but <span class="corr" id="xd33e781" title="Source: king">King</span> Dalu Rai said with a cruel sneer “He is a renegade. Let him go on a pilgrimage to +Mecca and there wed the daughter of some famous Arab; but he shall not marry the daughter +of any Hindu subject of mine!”</p> +</blockquote><p> +</p> +<p>Chota Amrani feared to stay longer in Brahmanabad, so he set out on a pilgrimage to +Mecca. After many hardships and dangers he reached the Holy City. As he walked through +the streets, he passed a shop, wherein a woman, instead of attending to her customers +was reading aloud the Koran. Chota Amrani stopped to listen. The woman saw him and +asked him why he did not pass on. “I have stopped,” said Chota Amrani, “to listen +to the words of Holy Writ. I have learnt the Koran by heart; but if you will teach +me its various readings, I shall become your slave.” “Nay,” said the woman, “I am +not fit to teach you. I have a teacher of my own. She is a maiden and you cannot enter +her home in a man’s dress. But if you change your clothes and dress like a girl, I +shall <span class="pageNum" id="pb37">[<a href="#pb37">37</a>]</span>take you to her.” Chota Amrani who was still quite young and without any beard on +his chin, agreed. He dressed up as a girl and was taken to the house of the learned +maiden by the woman in the shop. The maiden’s name was Fatima and she readily undertook +the instruction of the foreign girl, who had come from so far off to see Mecca. One +day the shopwoman asked Fatima some questions concerning the marriage of her daughter. +Fatima, who was skilled in astrology as well as in matters religious, answered the +questions with ease. Chota Amrani then to test the maiden said “As you can tell the +future of others, you can surely tell your own future.” Fatima replied “My fate is +to be married to a man from Sind.” “But when?” asked the astonished visitor. “In no +long time,” replied Fatima. “But where is the man?” asked Chota Amrani. Fatima pretended +to consult her astrological books and said with a smile “You are the man.” Then she +added “Begone and come no longer in the garb of a girl. Put on a man’s dress and ask +formally for my hand, for I am destined to be yours.” +</p> +<p>Chota Amrani, abashed at the penetration of his disguise, went away and returned dressed +as a man. He formally asked for the hand of Fatima. His request was granted and she +became his wife. +</p> +<p>After two or three months had passed, Chota Amrani told Fatima that he must take her +back with him to Sind. Fatima made no objection and they set sail for the land of +the Indus river. When they reached Brahmanabad, they found that Dalu Rai had recently +issued a law that every young married woman should be brought to his couch for at +least one night. He therefore demanded that Chota Amrani should send Fatima to his +palace. Chota Amrani refused and Dalu Rai did nothing for the moment. But one day +when Chota Amrani was absent <span class="pageNum" id="pb38">[<a href="#pb38">38</a>]</span>from the city, Dalu Rai forced his way into his brother’s house and tried to seduce +Fatima. The noble lady virtuously resisted all his efforts to lead her astray and +fortunately before he could use violence to her, Chota Amrani returned. He drove the +wicked king from his house and instantly left Brahmanabad with Fatima. As he left, +a voice from heaven was heard to say “This city will soon be swallowed because of +its king’s wickedness. Let those who are warned flee from the accursed spot or keep +watch against the day of atonement.” A few obeyed and shook from their feet the dust +of the doomed city, but most of the people paid no heed. The first night the city +was spared, because an old woman working at a wheel kept awake all night, as the voice +had commanded. The second night an oil presser kept watch unceasingly. But the third +night the inhabitants forgot the divine warning. Suddenly, while all slept the entire +city was swallowed up. Of all its splendid buildings only one minaret remained, as +an example and a warning to other kings and peoples. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch8" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e290">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">BRAHMANABAD.—II.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Now let us turn to the Hindu legend which I came across in a Sind magazine. It ran +as follows:— +</p> +<p class="tb"></p><p> +</p> +<p>Once upon a time Brahmanabad, now a heap of ruins, was the glory of all Sind. It stood +on an oasis in the desert; and to guard its people from sudden raids by desert tribes, +one of its kings had built round it a great wall. Beneath the wall flowed the river +Indus, on whose waters the merchant ships of Brahmanabad carried the city’s commerce +up and down Sind. Inside the walls were rich houses, countless gardens, and a mighty +tower, that served as a landmark for miles around. About a mile and a half from Brahmanabad +was the royal suburb of Dalor in <span class="pageNum" id="pb39">[<a href="#pb39">39</a>]</span>which stood the king’s palace and the quarters of his guards. Some five miles from +Brahmanabad stood the suburb of Depur. Therein lived the ministers with their public +offices and their record-rooms and storehouses. Along the banks of the river was a +collection of huts, wherein lived a wild gipsy tribe known as Madu. They lived by +selling milk and ghi to the rich burghers of Brahmanabad. +</p> +<p>The reigning <span class="corr" id="xd33e806" title="Source: king">King</span> Amrai was beloved by his people and when his queen died, he would not give her place +to another. He devoted his life to the upbringing of their only son, prince Dalu Rai. +Unhappily so evil was the lad’s nature, that the more care the king spent on him the +worse he grew. He gathered round him a band of bad companions and all day and every +day the royal palace resounded with the cries of the prince’s victims. At last the +king out of all patience, shut up his son in the tall tower which looked over the +country round Brahmanabad. But the fickle mob at once turned round<span class="corr" id="xd33e809" title="Not in source">.</span> “What a cruel father!” they cried. “Fancy treating thus the heir to the throne!” +King Amrai consulted his ministers and they advised him to free his son, but at the +same time to put in charge of him some wise and virtuous old man, who by example and +precept would show him the error of his ways. King Amrai thought their advice good +and freeing the prince, appointed a wise old man to look after him and to teach him. +Although the king said nothing to Dalu Rai, the latter guessed, when an aged pandit +called on him, that he was in some way to be over him. He instantly resolved to treat +the old man in such a way that neither he nor any other old man in the kingdom would +accept the post again. He pretended to listen with the greatest attention to all the +old man’s words and seemed so eager to do what was right, that the sage thought the +prince the most charming of pupils. After <span class="pageNum" id="pb40">[<a href="#pb40">40</a>]</span>some hours of talk, the prince made his master dine with him. During the meal the +old man talked as one inspired; and as he talked, the prince’s servants filled his +glass over and over again with drugged wine. Before the meal was over the poor old +pandit was fast asleep. The prince had him put to bed and as he lay asleep, the prince’s +barber shaved off the sage’s moustaches and stuck in their place crow’s feathers. +Next morning when the old man awoke, he passed his hand over his face and found the +horrible thing that had been done to him. He rose, fled from the prince’s house and +threw himself at <span class="corr" id="xd33e813" title="Source: king">King</span> Amrai’s feet and told him of the prince’s cruel trick. The king soothed the old man +as best he could; but he was so affected, that he never shewed himself in the Darbar +Hall again. +</p> +<p>The prince was thus free to act as he pleased. One evening he and his good for nothing +companions went out <span class="corr" id="xd33e818" title="Source: a hawking">a-hawking</span>. Game was scarce and their hawks caught nothing. At last they reached a well near +a Madu hamlet not far from the town. Vexed at their ill luck, they loosed their hawks +at some tame pigeons that belonged to the villagers and happened to be circling near +the well. All the pigeons but one took shelter in their dovecotes. One pigeon flew +into the air followed by the prince’s hawk. For some time the two birds soared in +the air, one unable to rise above the other. At last the hawk’s strong wings bore +it above the pigeon and it made its swoop. The frightened pigeon dropped like a stone +to the ground at the feet of a Madu maiden of 16, who was filling her jar at the well. +The girl picked up the pigeon and stroking its feathers put it in her bosom. The hawk +robbed of its prey, flew back to perch on the wrist of the prince’s huntsman. The +prince rode up to the girl and with an evil smile on his lips, told her that she might +keep the pigeon. He would not hunt it now that it had taken <span class="pageNum" id="pb41">[<a href="#pb41">41</a>]</span>shelter in her bosom. The girl turned on him scornfully and said “A fine hunter you +are to hawk a tame pigeon!” The prince pretended to be sorry for what he had done +and then asked the girl to give him a drink of water from <span class="corr" id="xd33e823" title="Source: his">her</span> jar. But the Madu maiden disliking his looks and tone, told him to get one of his +servants to fetch water for him. But the prince pressed her, pleading that their horses +were restive. Reluctantly the girl went close to him to give him a cup of water. Suddenly +he caught her by the waist and swung her in front of him. A moment later he and his +companions were riding as fast as they could to the prince’s palace. Some Madu men +ran after them but in vain. The prince carried off the girl and the men with him said +in jest “The prince’s hawk lost its prey, but the prince had better luck!” As the +party neared the palace, they passed an aged Brahman, who, hearing the cries of the +struggling girl, begged the prince to free her. But Dalu Rai only snarled at him to +mind his own business. The Brahman, who was a mighty anchorite, flew into a passion +and cursed him. “As a punishment for your cruelty,” he cried, “you will never live +to be old. Your city will be destroyed and you will perish with it so suddenly, that +you will not have time to give even a handful of grain in charity!” +</p> +<p>The prince paid little heed to the anchorite’s curse, but bore his prey inside the +palace. There he found everyone excited as the princess had just borne her lord a +son. But the prince pushed past his servants and took the Madu girl to a distant part +of the palace and there tried to win her consent. But she scornfully rejected his +promises of rich clothes and fine jewels. At last when he had lost all patience and +was about to offer her violence, he heard a knock at his door. It was a messenger +who brought the news that <span class="corr" id="xd33e828" title="Source: king">King</span> Amrai was dead. <span class="pageNum" id="pb42">[<a href="#pb42">42</a>]</span>At the same time he told the prince that Banbho, one of his associates wished to speak +to him most urgently. The prince was unwilling to leave the Madu girl, but he could +not refuse so grave a message, especially as Banbho was not only the wickedest but +by far the wisest of his evil companions. The prince went out, locked the door behind +him, and took Banbho into another room. The news Banbho brought was of the gravest.<span id="xd33e833"></span> “The news I bring, my Prince,<span class="corr" id="xd33e835" title="Not in source">”</span> he said slowly<span class="corr" id="xd33e837" title="Source: ,“ ">, “</span>is as bad as it can be. Unless you act at once this palace of yours is certain to +become your prison. The late king was angry with you, as you know, and before he died, +he had engraved as his will on a brass plate that you were never to sit on the throne. +In your stead the ministers were to put your son if you had one, and if not, your +distant cousin. Now that a son has been born to the princess, think what a handle +your enemies will have against you! They will put you in prison and make your infant +son king of Brahmanabad. You must act at once!” Banbho’s plan was simple. It was to +proclaim the prince as king in Brahmanabad and then to gallop with every available +man to Depur where the ministers had assembled to carry out the late king’s wishes. +Banbho taking some men with him, first rode through the streets of Brahmanabad, shouting +“Victory to Dalu Rai Maharaj!” The crowd at once caught up the cry and were soon shouting +“Victory to Dalu Rai Maharaj” through every lane and byway in the city. This done, +Banbho returned to the prince’s palace and he and the prince and his companions and +all the guards whom they could muster, set off together at headlong speed for Depur. +While Banbho was thus rousing his master to action, the prime-minister and the commander-in-chief +and the principal nobles of Brahmanabad were seated together in one of the council +rooms of Depur. The prime-minister, respected above all for his age and wisdom and +<span class="pageNum" id="pb43">[<a href="#pb43">43</a>]</span>for his faithful service of the late king, put before his colleagues the brass plate +of <span class="corr" id="xd33e843" title="Source: king">King</span> Amrai and proposed that they should take instant steps to seize the person of Dalu +Rai and put his newly born son on the throne. Several of the nobles objected strongly. +For all their respect for the late king and their dislike of Dalu Rai, they disliked +still more the coronation of a newly born infant with all the dangers of a long regency. +While they were in high debate, the commander-in-chief heard a noise in the courtyard +and guessing its cause, said with a smile and a shrug of his shoulders: “I am afraid +we are too late, gentlemen. The prince has come in person to settle the succession.” +Dalu Rai and Banbho followed by their troopers rushed up the stairs and Banbho knocking +at the door, demanded entrance in the king’s name. Receiving no answer, he caught +up a heavy pickaxe and with a single blow broke open the lock. The door flew open +and the prince and his men rushed in. Many of the nobles at once joined him. But the +chief minister and a few others remained seated. As the prince stepped forward, the +prime-minister gave him the brass plate on which was engraved his father’s will. The +prince read it and glowing with rage “from his topknot to his toenails,” rushed at +the old man. Both sides drew their swords. A fight ensued, but it was soon over. The +prime-minister and the commander-in-chief lay dead on the ground and the rest surrendered. +</p> +<p>Dalu Rai would at once have gone back to the Madu maiden; but Banbho who “had a crow’s +wisdom” prevailed on him to spend the day and the following night on the late king’s +funeral ceremonies. All day long and all that night Dalu Rai’s thoughts were far away +with his unhappy captive. Next morning Banbho pressed him to hold a Darbar and win +over the state officers and townspeople by concessions and gifts. But Dalu Rai <span class="pageNum" id="pb44">[<a href="#pb44">44</a>]</span>could restrain himself no longer. “You spoiler of pleasure!” he cried angrily to Banbho, +“I am not going to hold a Darbar! Tell my officers that I am too stricken with sorrow +to hold one.” With these words <span class="corr" id="xd33e850" title="Source: king">King</span> Dalu Rai left Banbho to manage as best he could, and rode off with all speed to the +conquest of the Madu maiden. Unluckily for him, he had carelessly left behind him +his dagger when summoned by Banbho. The Madu girl had picked it up and when the wicked +king would have caught her in his arms she pointed the dagger at him and threatened +to stab him if he came near her. As he stood uncertain what to do, he heard cries +outside his palace “Maharaja! Maharaja!” Dalu Rai went to the verandah and looking +down saw his courtyard full of frightened people. “Maharaja, save us!” they cried. +“Brahmanabad will be destroyed.” Dalu Rai looked towards the horizon and saw a huge +mass of sand like a tidal wave advancing on Brahmanabad. The sky was as black as pitch. +The sun was hidden and the Indus had left its course and seemed to be fleeing before +the sandstorm. As he gazed at the fearful scene, a voice cried: “To-day Brahmanabad +shall perish because of its ruler’s wickedness!” The king remembered the anchorite’s +curse and would have ridden away leaving his city and his people to their fate. But +as he walked to the door a youth with drawn sword barred his way. “Who are you?” asked +the king. “I am your death,” was the grim answer. The king had no other wish but to +flee from the doomed town; but the youth would not let him pass. At last the king +drew his sword and the two men fought. The youth was skilled in swordmanship but even +so he was no match for Dalu Rai, who was a master of the art. In a few minutes the +king drove his sword through the youth’s heart and bending over him dragged him into +the Madu maiden’s room. As he did so, the girl drove her dagger into his <span class="pageNum" id="pb45">[<a href="#pb45">45</a>]</span>back. “Why did you strike me?” asked the dying king. “Was the youth your kinsman?” +“He was my betrothed,” said the girl with white lips and blazing eyes. The king fainted +and life left him. The girl took some wood from the hearth where a fire was burning +and lit the drapery in the room. In a few minutes it was blazing. The fire spread +to the rest of the palace and it was soon a burning mass. At the same time the sand +reached the walls of Brahmanabad. The burghers sought flight in all directions, but +flight was useless. The sandwave caught them and stifled them, until at last there +was not a living soul left in Brahmanabad. +</p> +<p>The curse of the anchorite had been fulfilled to the letter. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch9" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e299">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE EIGHTH KEY.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Once upon a time there ruled over Sind a king, who throughout his reign had been distinguished +for wisdom and justice; but he had grown old and had only one son, born to him by +one of his queens, when he was in the evening of his life. His darling wish was to +see his son of an age to succeed him before he died. But as kings even are only pawns +in the hands of the great chessplayer, his hope was never fulfilled. Feeling death +approach, he sent for his chief minister and gave him the eight keys of his eight +treasure chambers. “Guard the throne for my son<span class="corr" id="xd33e861" title="Not in source">,</span>” said the dying man, “and when he is of an age to rule by himself, give him seven +of the eight keys; but do not give him the eighth until he has ruled for five years.” +The chief minister promised faithfully to do his master’s bidding and the old king +died in his arms. +</p> +<p>The young prince was duly raised to the throne and the chief minister watched over +him as if he had been his own son. When the prince came of age, he succeeded to a +rich and prosperous <span class="pageNum" id="pb46">[<a href="#pb46">46</a>]</span>kingdom and the minister handed over to him, just as the old king had desired, seven +out of the eight keys. With the seven keys the prince opened seven treasure vaults +and found them chock full of silver and gold pieces and precious stones of every description. +He was pleased beyond measure; and he felt deeply grateful to the faithful minister, +who had discharged his trust so well and while keeping the people happy had made their +king rich beyond the dreams of avarice. For a time all went well; then some evilminded +old man, who envied the chief minister, told the king that there were really eight +treasure vaults and that the minister had not handed over the eighth key, so that +he might keep for himself the contents of the eighth treasure vault. In a great rage +the young king sent for the chief minister and demanded on pain of instant death the +eighth key. The old statesman fell at his young master’s feet and telling him with +many tears the whole story handed him the eighth key. The king was so excited at the +tale, that he snatched away the key and running as fast as he could to the eighth +treasure vault, turned the key in the lock and flung open the door. To his amazement +the room was absolutely bare, save for the portrait of a beautiful girl, that hung +on one of the walls. The king’s eyes ran round the empty room and then they rested +on the face in the picture. There they stayed until the youth fell so deeply in love +with the beautiful girl, that he grew gradually fainter and at last swooned away. +The minister and the courtiers sprinkled rosewater over their prostrate master and +at last revived him; but he vowed that unless the minister promised to bring him the +lovely picture maiden, he would not only refuse to reign, but would starve himself +to death. +</p> +<p>The old minister was dismayed at the state of the king and soothed him by telling +him that he would at once set out to <span class="pageNum" id="pb47">[<a href="#pb47">47</a>]</span>fetch the beautiful girl. He loaded a vessel full of merchandise of all descriptions +and with some chosen companions weighed anchor and set sail for the open sea. They +touched at various ports, but although they shewed the chief men there the portrait +found in the eighth chamber, none recognised it. At last after the voyage had lasted +a whole year, they reached a distant haven and there they shewed their picture. The +people standing by clapped their hands and cried out “Why, it’s our own princess!” +The minister was taken to the king and queen who shewed them their daughter and all +agreed that she was the original of the portrait. The minister told the king that +he was a merchant and after giving the king splendid gifts stayed in the country until +he had sold all his merchandise. He then turned his prow homewards and many months +later he was able to tell his king that the lovely picture maiden had been found. +Without a moment’s delay the king vowed that he would seek her himself. Again filling +the vessel with merchandise, the king, the minister and the some band of trusty companions +went on board and weighing anchor, they set sail for the distant land wherein the +princess dwelt. After a voyage of several months and many hardships, they reached +it and the minister again presented himself in the guise of a merchant before the +princess’ father. On his earlier visit the minister had learnt that the princess was +very fond of toys; so he had brought for her a number of toys, in the making of which +the people of his country were very skilled. There were toy dogs that ran for miles, +toy lions and tigers that roared horribly, toy partridges that rose with a whirr just +like live ones, toy pheasants that flew up slantwise into the air and toymen who walked +about and talked just as if they had been real. The princess gave a cry of delight +on seeing all these wonderful play-things; but the minister said “These are nothing +to what you <span class="pageNum" id="pb48">[<a href="#pb48">48</a>]</span>will see, if you will visit our ship. My master the merchant who is on board would +only let me bring the commonest toys ashore.” The princess was wild to see the other +toys and taking six maid-servants with her went with the minister to the seashore +and aboard the ship. There the young king received her with the greatest courtesy +and respect and began to shew her other toys. But as she was looking at them and clapping +her hands at each fresh one, the crew quietly cut the anchor cable and were out to +sea, before the princess or her friends on shore had any idea what was happening. +</p> +<p>When the poor princess found that she had been taken captive, she wept bitterly, but +the king soothed her and told her how he had fallen in love with her picture and had +sailed across half the world to <span class="sic">win</span> her. At last she dried her eyes and promised to be his queen directly the ship brought +them to his country. The journey took many weary months, but at last they were only +three days sail off and the king and betrothed, as happy as possible, together were +walking up and down the deck, hand in hand. The chief minister was sitting in the +bows straining his eyes trying to get a glimpse of the land. Now among the old man’s +many accomplishments was the power to understand the speech of birds. As he looked +landwards, he saw a parrot and a maina fly to the ship and perch in the rigging. After +a little while the maina felt dull and begged the parrot to tell her a story. At first +the parrot demurred, then he said: “There is a story going on before your very eyes. +You see how happy the king and queen seem to be? Well, the king has only three more +days to live! When he lands three days hence, he will be met by his officers and his +troops, his elephants, his horses and his chariots. He will be given the most beautiful +horse of all to ride; but that horse is not really a horse at all, <span class="pageNum" id="pb49">[<a href="#pb49">49</a>]</span>but a demon. Directly the king is on its back, it will fly away with him into the +air and will then drown him by flinging him into the sea.” The maina was affected +to tears by this story; for she loved the parrot dearly and knew how the princess +would grieve at the loss of her betrothed. “Is there no way,” cried the maina, “by +which the king can be saved?” “Yes, my beloved,” answered the parrot, “there is one +way. If someone goes up to the horse just before the king mounts it and cuts its head +off, the king will be saved. But do not repeat what I have told you; for if anyone +repeats it, one third of his or her body will be turned into stone.” The parrot and +the maina then flew away, leaving the minister, who had understood all that they had +said, a prey to the cruelest anxiety. +</p> +<p>Next day the parrot and the maina flew back to the ship and perched in the rigging. +The minister on seeing them went back to his seat in the bows of the ship, so that +he might listen to what they said. The maina said “Tell me, please, what will happen +to the king, if he escapes from the demon horse? Will he not wed the princess and +live happily ever afterwards?” “Nay, my heart’s desire,” said the parrot, “the king +and the princess will never, I fear, be happy together. Even although the king escapes +from the demon horse he will still be in the gravest peril. During the wedding the +king will see a beautiful gold plate. He will be so pleased with it, that he will +pick it up and pass it round among his courtiers to collect alms for the Brahmans, +who are conducting the ceremony. But he will not live to pass the plate to all his +courtiers, for it is poisoned and as he passes it round, the poison on it will enter +the pores of his skin and will kill him in a few seconds.” The poor maina was as much +upset at this story as she had been at the other. “Is there no way,” she sobbed, “to +save the poor king?” “Yes, <span class="pageNum" id="pb50">[<a href="#pb50">50</a>]</span>my beloved,” answered the parrot, “if anyone were to put on gloves and snatch away +the plate before the king can handle it, he will be saved. But do not repeat what +I have told you, for if you do, a third of your body will be turned into stone.” <span id="xd33e883"></span>Shortly afterwards, the parrot and the maina flew away, leaving the minister sadder +even than he had been the previous day. +</p> +<p>The next day, which was the last of the voyage, the disheartened minister went and +sat in the prow of the ship, to hear anything more that the parrot might say to the +maina. He had not been seated more than a few minutes before the two birds came and +perched a few feet above his head. “Dear Parrot,” said the maina, “if the king is +not poisoned by the plate, will he and the princess not even then marry and live happy +together ever afterwards?” “Nay, well beloved, even then the king will not live long +enough to make the princess happy. After the wedding ceremony, the king and the princess +will be so tired that directly their heads touch the pillow, they will go off to sleep. +While they are asleep, a snake that lives in the roof of the bridal chamber will drop +poison from his fangs on to the princess’ cheek. When the king wakes out of his first +sleep and kisses the princess, he will touch the poison with his lips and will die +instantly.” The maina was dreadfully sorry to hear this new danger and asked tearfully +whether there was no way by which the king could escape from that death also. “Yes, +well beloved,” said the parrot, “there is one chance of his escape, but it is so remote +that the king is sure to die. If someone were to hide himself in the bridal chamber +until the poison fell and kissed the princess’ cheek, the king would be saved; nor +would his saviour die either if he drank at once a large glass of milk. But do not +tell anyone about this, for if you do a third of your body will be turned into stone.” +The two birds then flew away. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb51">[<a href="#pb51">51</a>]</span></p> +<p>The minister was in despair, but he was a brave and loyal man and he resolved to save +his master, even if it cost him his life. When the king landed and tried to mount +the demon horse, the minister drew his sword and with a single stroke cut its head +off. The king was very angry and asked the minister why he had done it; but the minister +dared not explain for fear of a third part of his body being turned into stone. The +king could not understand it, still in view of the minister’s great services he forgave +him. The wedding ceremonies of the king and his bride were celebrated with great splendour; +and in the middle of them, the king seeing a beautiful gold plate stretched out his +hand to take it and to collect alms for the officiating Brahmans. The minister at +once pushed past the king and with a gloved hand, seized the golden plate and threw +it far away into a running stream. The king was still more angry especially as the +minister, afraid of being turned into stone, would not say why he had done it. +</p> +<p>After the wedding ceremonies were over, the king and queen tired out with the fatigues +of the day went to rest; and so sleepy were they that directly their heads touched +their pillows, they fell asleep. The minister, however, had hidden himself behind +a screen in the bridal chamber. He saw the snake come out of his hiding place in the +roof, wriggle along a beam and then drop poison on the face of the sleeping queen. +He stepped up to the bed, kissed the poison off the queen’s face and then took a deep +draught of milk. The queen woke up on feeling the kiss and roused the king. They were +both very angry at seeing the minister in their room and the king called to his guards +to seize the minister and hang him early next morning from the battlements of the +palace. The guards seized the poor old minister and took him to prison. There the +old man asked to see the king before he died, as a last favour. The <span class="pageNum" id="pb52">[<a href="#pb52">52</a>]</span>king had not the heart to refuse it. The minister was taken in chains to the royal +palace and there he poured out the whole truth. But as he related how the parrot had +warned him about the demon horse, his feet and legs turned to marble; then as he told +about the poisoned plate, his body as far as his armpits turned to marble; lastly +when he had finished the tale of the poison dropped by the snake, his head and shoulders +became marble, too. +</p> +<p>The king was at first too astonished to do anything and then he wept bitterly at the +awful fate that had overtaken his loyal and faithful servant. He put the petrified +body in a room in his palace and daily for several years prostrated himself at its +feet to shew his sorrow. In course of time the queen bore him a son and every day +he used to bring the little boy into the minister’s room to shew him what a good and +true servant he had once had. One day when the little boy was three years old, the +very same parrot and maina, that had perched in the ship’s rigging, flew into the +minister’s room and began talking to each other. The king just because he was standing +close to the minister was able to follow what they were saying. The parrot said to +the maina “The king is very sad at the fate of his minister; but he could bring him +back to life now, if he wanted to.” “How could he?” asked the maina. The parrot answered +“If he kills his own son and sprinkles his blood over the stone body, the minister +will become flesh and blood once more.” The king thought long and deeply where his +duty lay; at last he felt that he owed more to the faithful minister who had saved +his life three times than to his son. He drew his sword, cut off the little boy’s +head and sprinkled his blood over the marble body. The minister at once came to life +again. Nor was this all. The minister learning of the death of the little <span class="pageNum" id="pb53">[<a href="#pb53">53</a>]</span>prince prayed so earnestly to God to bring him back to life that his prayer was granted. +The king then took the minister and the little prince to the queen’s room and told +her all that had happened. She agreed that the king had acted rightly, even though +his act would but for God’s mercy, have cost her her son. The minister once more resumed +his duties; and he and the king, the queen and the little prince lived together happily +for ever so long afterwards. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch10" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e308">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE NOOSE OF MURAD.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Near the small town of Naushahro in the district of Nawabshah, there is an old fort +called Murad jo Killo or Murad’s Fort. It is a big place, but crumbling to ruins; +still the walls that remain are so wide that three men, so it is said, can sleep on +them side by side. There is also in that part of the country a proverbial saying, +used when anyone grumbles at his lot, “Does he want Murad jo phaho” (the noose of +Murad). Now this is the tale that is told both of the fort and of the proverbial saying: +</p> +<p>Somewhere in the early part of the eighteenth century, when Nur Mahomed Kalhoro was +ruler of Sind, he had as jamadar or headman of his grass-cutters a certain Murad, +known as Murad Ganjo or Murad the Bald. So completely had his hair vanished, that +you might have looked all over his head from north to south and from east to west +and then any other way you liked, but you would not have found a single hair on any +part of it. Murad used daily to inspect the grass-cutters’ work and when on this duty, +he noticed an old <span class="corr" id="xd33e902" title="Source: half mad-woman">half-mad woman</span> called Fatima. For some days he paid no attention to her. Then it occurred to him +that the old woman might be a witch or sorceress, whom it might be well to propitiate; +so he reverently went up to her and asked for her blessing. The old woman looked at +him attentively and then blessed him, adding <span class="pageNum" id="pb54">[<a href="#pb54">54</a>]</span>“Murad the Bald, you will become a kardar,” or as we should say nowadays a tapedar +or talati. Murad thought no more about the prophecy until one day Nur Mahomed Kalhoro, +in return for Murad’s honesty and hard work, promoted him from jamadar of grass-cutters +to be a kardar. +</p> +<p>Murad was now quite certain that the old woman was a real sorceress, one to be made +much of in every way. For many months he brought her daily small gifts of food or +money; then he summoned up courage to ask again for her blessing. Again the old woman +looked at him intently, blessed him and added “Murad the Bald, you will be a naib +subha,” or as we should say nowadays a Deputy Collector. Not many months passed before +Nur Mahomed Kalhoro, still more pleased with Murad’s steady and faithful work, promoted +him to be a Naib Subha. There is a French proverb which says <i lang="fr">L’appétit vient en mangeant</i>, that is to say the greedy are never satisfied; and Murad began to feel soon that +the post of Naib Subha was far beneath his merits. He plied the old woman with more +valuable gifts and for the third time asked her blessing. She looked intently at him +as before and blessing him for the third time said “Murad the Bald, you will become +a subha” or as we should say a Collector of a district. Murad the Bald not very long +afterwards was given charge of a district, thereby reaching a post far above his deserts. +He was still an ignorant, unlettered boor and for a time he was fully satisfied with +his office. He built the great fort known as Murad jo Killo and seemed perfectly contented. +But after a year or two be began to think that the old woman, who had raised him so +high, might raise him higher still, might make him a king or perhaps even emperor +of Delhi. After all stranger things had happened before and “Allah alone knoweth all.” +Tortured by his insatiable <span class="pageNum" id="pb55">[<a href="#pb55">55</a>]</span>greed, Murad the Bald showered jewels and gold on the old woman and for the fourth +time asked for her blessing. But this time a terrible thing occurred. Instead of the +fixed kindly look, that she had been used to give him, her eyes flashed with demoniac +fury and instead of a blessing, she cursed him “Murad the Bald,” she screamed at him +“you will rise higher still, you will be hanged.” Poor Murad left the witch as she +raved and gnashed her teeth and going home, tried in vain to put the matter out of +his mind. +</p> +<p>Now it so happened that the Afghan ruler of Multan, Nadir Khan by name, lost the youngest +and most beautiful of his wives. She fell in love with one of her lord’s servants +and ran away with him right out of the Multan province into Murad’s district. She +took with her a huge diamond and a priceless manuscript on surgery and medicine. Murad +the Bald came to hear of the arrival of the two fugitives and promptly<span id="xd33e916"></span> took from them the diamond and the manuscript, which he stored in the royal treasure +house of Nur Mahomed Kalhoro. The queen and her lover, fearing that they might themselves +be detained and given over to Nadir Khan, fled from Sind pretending that they were +going on a pilgrimage to Mecca. +</p> +<p>In the meantime the indignant Nadir Khan in vain looked all over his kingdom for his +missing queen and servant. At last he learnt that she and her lover had fled into +the lands of Nur Mahomed Kalhoro. Nadir Khan summoned his army and marching to the +frontier, demanded the surrender of the queen and her lover, the diamond and the manuscript. +Nur Mahomed Kalhoro enquired of Murad and learnt that the guilty couple had fled, +but that the diamond and the manuscript were safe in his treasury. He sent back the +manuscript and the diamond. “These came into our hands,” he wrote, “but they <span class="pageNum" id="pb56">[<a href="#pb56">56</a>]</span>do not belong to us. The guilty couple have fled, so we cannot return them, but take +the manuscript and the diamond since they are yours. We do not want them nor do we +wish for war. Nevertheless, if you are bent on war, we shall accept your challenge. +We shall gladly shew you how strong are our arms and how sharp are our swords.” +</p> +<p>Nadir Khan liked Nur Mahomed’s answer and instead of war there was peace, and instead +of battles and skirmishes there were visits and reviews and banquets. Nevertheless +Nadir the Afghan was not quite sure that Nur Mahomed Kalhoro had not seized his beautiful +queen and hidden her in some deep recess of his own harem. He sent for Murad and begged +him to speak the truth: “If my queen and servant have really gone to Mecca, it is +useless to search for them here; but if Nur Mahomed Kalhoro is secretly keeping my +queen, then I shall slay him and give his throne to the man, who tells me the whole +truth.” As Murad listened to the words of the Afghan, Satan the Stoned seized his +five senses. Forgetting all his master’s kindness and favours, he thought to himself +that there now stretched in front of him an open and easy road to a throne. With seeming +reluctance he confessed that the queen and her paramour had never left Sind. Nur Mahomed +Kalhoro had taken the queen to be his concubine and had cut off the head of her paramour +with a single stroke of his sword, just as if he had been a buffalo. Nadir the Afghan +believing Murad and angry at what he believed to be the double dealing of Nur Mahomed +Kalhoro, resolved to march into Sind and to seat Murad on the throne in his place. +He had gone only one march when the news reached him that his missing queen and her +lover had been found in the country of a neighbouring Raja, who was sending them back +in chains to their master. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb57">[<a href="#pb57">57</a>]</span></p> +<p>Nadir the Afghan was now as angry with Murad as he had been with Nur Mahomed Kalhoro. +He told the latter the lying tale told by his subha Murad. Mahomed Nur was shocked +at the ingratitude of the base born wretch on whom he had lavished favours. His horsemen +rode out and seized Murad the Bald and at the king’s orders, hanged him from the battlements +of his own fortress. So ended the fortunes of the greedy and faithless adventurer; +and that is why men say to-day that it is better to be contented with one’s lot than +to rise so high that in the end one dangles from the end of a rope forty or fifty +feet above the ground. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch11" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e318">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">THE MAKLI HILL.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Most English visitors to Tatta go there for the shooting only and I should be the +last to blame them. Below the ancient fort of Kalankot near Tatta is a lake of the +same name. It is quite shallow and overgrown with tall reeds, the home of innumerable +duck. They rise all round, as one is poled in boats through lanes cut among the reeds +and quick eye and hand are needed before they can be bagged. But close to the bungalow +are a number of ancient tombs; and as no record of their owners is to be found on +the walls, a few facts about them may prove interesting to future visitors. +</p> +<p>The tombs are built on a ridge known as the Makli Hill. Two derivations of the name +are given. Some say that the hill owes its title to a pious woman called Makli who +lived and was buried on it. Others say that a holy man gave it the name of Makli because +he deemed it Maka laali or the threshold of Mecca. Whatever the true origin may be, +let us take the tombs from north to south and put down what we know about them. The +farthest to the north is a <span class="pageNum" id="pb58">[<a href="#pb58">58</a>]</span>brick tomb on a masonry plinth, plastered and white-washed. Beneath it lie the earthly +remains of Sayad Ali Shirazi. Great saint though he was, he would long ago have been +forgotten, save for the fact that for a moment his career touched that of the great +Akbar. The Emperor Humayun, defeated in battle after battle by the great Afghan soldier +Sher Shah, fled to Sind. After trying in vain to establish himself at Sehwan and Bukkur, +he started for Bikanir, only to learn that the Chief meant to hand him over to his +enemy. He turned back and made his way first to Jasalmir and then through the desert +to Umarkot. Most of his companions died of thirst. The others losing in their misery +all respect for their leader, let him walk so that his wife, Akbar’s mother, should +ride. At last with only seven attendants he reached Umarkot and there on the 14th +October 1542 Akbar was born. Humayun had neither gifts to distribute to his friends +nor clothes in which to wrap the baby. The first difficulty he overcame by breaking +a pod of musk and letting its perfume spread among his guests, at the same time exclaiming +with prophetic truth that his baby boy’s fame would diffuse itself through the world +like the fragrance of the musk. The second difficulty he met by cutting Akbar’s first +garment out of the coat of Sayad Ali Shirazi, who had been sent by the people of Tatta +with gifts and greetings. Ali Shirazi lived for thirty years afterwards and the date +of his burial is inscribed on his tomb, <i>viz.</i>, 1752 A.D. +</p> +<p>South of the Sayad’s tomb is that of Makli, the eponymous heroine of the hill, and +south of Makli’s is that of Jam Nindo. It is easily distinguished as it has no roof +and its stones were evidently taken from some ancient Hindu temple. Jam Nindo or the +Little Jam was the founder of Tatta. His real name was Jam Nizam-ud-din and he was +a Samma by caste. Here we must go back into early Sind History. When the Afghan <span class="pageNum" id="pb59">[<a href="#pb59">59</a>]</span>Emperor Ala-ud-din Khilji conquered Sind, a Rajput tribe named the Sumras were in +possession. Subdued then, they successfully revolted in the reign of Ghazi-ud-din +Tughlak. In the middle of the 14th century, however, they were ousted by another Rajput +tribe the Sammas. The latter ruled Sind from 1350 A.D. to 1521 A.D. But until Jam +Nindo’s time they did not live at Tatta. They lived at Samui three miles to the northwest. +When Jam Nindo had established his power and cleared the land of robbers, he thought +he would build a new town, “wherein happiness might remain for ever.” He chose a site +to the east of the Makli Hill and on a day picked out by the Brahmans, he founded +his city, Tatta. There he ruled for at least fifty years and was buried on the Makli +Hill. Another Samma chief buried there was Jam Tamachi. He was the Jam who loved the +fisher maiden Nuri and was the ancestor of the Jadeja Raos of Cutch. But it is not +possible to say with certainty which his tomb is!<a class="noteRef" id="xd33e939src" href="#xd33e939" title="Go to note 1.">1</a> +</p> +<p>Jam Nindo’s son and successor was Jam Feroz. But the new Jam loved too warmly the +beauty of his dancing girls and the jokes of his jesters to be a good ruler. The result +was that in 1521 A.D. he was driven from his throne by Shahbeg Arghun, who had himself +been driven from Kandahar by the <span class="corr" id="xd33e944" title="Source: lion hearted">lion-hearted</span> Babar. In 1536 A.D. Shah Hussein Arghun succeeded his father Shahbeg and was the +ruler of Sind when Humayun fled to it and Akbar was born. In 1554 he died and Mirza +Isa Tarkhan, the founder of the Tarkhan Dynasty, became master of Tatta. It is to +his tomb to which we come, shortly after saying goodbye to Jam Nindo’s. Isa Khan’s +last dwelling place stands in a large courtyard close to an old <span class="pageNum" id="pb60">[<a href="#pb60">60</a>]</span>mosque. The tomb is entirely of carved stone with perforated slabs let in here and +there. It was in Mirza Isa’s time that the Portuguese sacked Tatta. It seems that +in 1555 Mirza Isa Khan quarrelled with Sultan Mahmud the Governor of Bukkur by whose +aid he had become King of Sind. Isa Khan sent an envoy to Goa to ask help from the +Portuguese. The fame of that nation in India was then at its height. Only a few years +before they had helped the King of Guzarat to drive out Humayun and in return had +received Bassein and the whole Province of the north including Salsette Island. With +their aid Isa Khan felt sure that he could humble Sultan Mahmud. On the other hand, +no doubt, the Portuguese Governor-General dreamed visions of a second northern province +on the banks of the Indus. He sent a fleet of 28 ships with 700 men under Pedro Baretto. +The gallant Pedro duly sailed up the Indus and reaching Tatta asked for orders. In +the meantime, however, Isa Khan had in several actions instilled into Sultan Mahmud +Khan a sense of his inferiority and had forced him to sue for peace. Isa Khan sent +word from Bukkur that he no longer needed Portuguese help. Pedro then asked for the +cost of the expedition, estimated, I dare say, on a liberal scale. Isa Khan politely +refused to pay. Dom Pedro flew into a rage, sacked Tatta, killed 800 people, took +away two millions sterling and left the town in flames. Isa Khan rebuilt the town +but he entered into no more alliances with the Portuguese. He ruled prosperously until +1572 A.D. when he died and was buried on the Makli Hill. +</p> +<p>On Isa Khan’s death his son Mahomed Baki succeeded him. His tomb is a small ruined +brick enclosure, the one immediately to the north of Tural Beg’s, of whom I shall +say a word or two later. Isa Khan’s tomb is a poor thing compared <span class="pageNum" id="pb61">[<a href="#pb61">61</a>]</span>with his father’s and his son’s, but then so was Mahomed Baki himself. For twelve +years he gave the good people of Tatta a dreadful time. To slit their ears and noses +and shave off their beards was the favourite pastime of his leisure moments. To hang +them, impale them and throw them under the feet of his elephants was the serious business +of his life. At last in 1584, having lived to see his daughter returned with thanks +by the Emperor Akbar, he committed suicide. To him succeeded his son Jani Beg, whose +tomb is the <span class="corr" id="xd33e953" title="Source: southern most">southernmost</span> of all. It is of brick, faced with glazed blue and green tiles. It has a perforated +window above the door and there are geometric tracery windows also on the four sides. +By the time Jani Beg had succeeded his father, the genius of Akbar was at its zenith. +Sultan Mahmud of Bukkur yielded to the great Emperor his sovereignty without a blow. +But Jani Beg was of sterner stuff. Entrenching himself behind the river Phito, he +withstood for some months the imperial forces. Driven from his trenches he fell back +on the great fort of Kalankot; but that Akbar should not use Tatta as his base, he +destroyed it and left the emperor a smouldering ruin. Yet brave as he was, he had +at last to kiss the stirrup of the world conqueror, was graciously received and confirmed +as imperial governor of Tatta. He died there in 1599. The Emperor confirmed in his +place his son Ghazi Beg. The latter lived until 1612, when he was murdered. His body +was buried in the same tomb as Jani Beg and the common grave was for many years the +scene of a curious pilgrimage. Both father and son were renowned as poets and musicians +and childless couples who desired off-spring, used to visit their tomb and try and +win the favour of their spirits by songs and instruments. But efficacious as his spiritual +aid may have been in procuring sons for barren women, poor Ghazi remained childless +himself. He had no son and with him the Tarkhan dynasty of Sind ended. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb62">[<a href="#pb62">62</a>]</span></p> +<p>The Moghul emperors thereafter ruled Sind through governors appointed directly from +Delhi. The Tomb of Diwan Shurfa Khan, the minister of one of these governors, Amirkhan +by name, is one of the best preserved on Makli Hill. Another less well preserved, +but even more imposing tomb, that of Nawab Isa Khan, dates from the same period A.D. +1628–1644. It has an upper storey to which leads a flight of stairs. To the east of +Isa Khan’s tomb are the graves of the ladies of his ample Zanana. To the south of +Isakhan’s tomb is quite a small one, that of Mirza Tural Beg. It appears that he misused +his position by artificially forcing up the price of grain and then selling his stock +at a large profit. He was so hated in his life-time that he took the precaution to +build his own tomb. But even so he did not escape infamy. He was nicknamed the “Dukario” +or “Famine Man” and every one who passed his grave used regularly to heave a stone +at it. In time the stones were piled up right to the stone canopy above it. Fortunately +for the “Famine Man” the Public Works Department have taken charge of his tomb and +have removed the stones. But his memory is still detested and his present address +is believed to be somewhere in the very centre of the flaming halls of Iblis. +</p> +</div> +<div class="footnotes"> +<hr class="fnsep"> +<div class="footnote-body"> +<div class="fndiv" id="xd33e939"> +<p class="footnote"><span class="fnlabel"><a class="noteRef" href="#xd33e939src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">1</a></span> For the story of Jam Tamachi and Nuri, see “Tales of Old Sind” (Oxford University +Press). <a class="fnarrow" href="#xd33e939src" title="Return to note 1 in text.">↑</a></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch12" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e327">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">LARKANA.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">A few miles from Larkana at a place called Fatehpur is a handsome mosque. In its courtyard +hang innumerable bells. I long tried in vain to learn its history but at last I obtained +from Mr. Bherumal, Inspector of Excise, the following legend. +</p> +<p>The town of Larkana derives its name from the tribe of Larak and was probably at one +time called <i>Larakanjo got</i> or the village of the Larak tribesmen. They were followers of a <span class="pageNum" id="pb63">[<a href="#pb63">63</a>]</span>family known to history as the Kalhoras, whose family name Abbassi lent strength to +their claim that they were sprung from the loins of Abbas, the uncle of the holy Prophet. +After the conquest of Sind by Akbar, it became a province of the Moghul empire; but +with the decline of the imperial power, authority relaxed and disorder grew. Of this +disorder the Kalhoras took advantage. The first great Kalhoro was Adam Shah, who “drank +the sherbet of martyrdom at Multan” or in simpler language was killed in an obscure +fight with the Moghul governor of that city. Adam Shah’s grandson Shahlal Mahomed +was the famous saint, whose memory still lives in the Fatehpur mosque. His first and +perhaps greatest—certainly his most useful—miracle was the digging of the Ghar canal +that runs past Larkana town. He did not dig it with a spade. His methods were simpler +and more efficient. He mounted a <i>Kando</i> or thorn tree. Once firmly seated in its upper branches, he made the wretched vegetable +drag its roots from Larkana to Kambar, a distance of twelve miles. In the deep hollow +caused by the progress of the <i>Kando</i> tree, flowed the obedient water. The stream so created came to be known as the Shahlal +Wah or the canal of Shahlal Mahomed. Many years later Mian Nur Mahomed Kalhoro widened +the Shahlal Wah and changed its name to Ghar canal, <i>i.e.</i>, the canal broken by the tree driven by the Saint’s superhuman powers. The Ghar canal +bears this name to the present day and the tree which Shahlal Mahomed used as his +humble instrument is still pointed out on the bank of the Chilo canal in the Kambar +taluka. +</p> +<p>The miracle of the Ghar canal was followed by so many others that the imperial governor +became alarmed at the Saint’s growing fame and power. He reported the facts to Aurangzeb +and obtained that emperor’s leave to shorten Shahlal Mahomed’s stature by a head. +After a mighty resistance the Saint was <span class="pageNum" id="pb64">[<a href="#pb64">64</a>]</span>taken captive and executed. The governor put his head in a wooden box and sealing +it sent it in charge of a police guard to the emperor’s camp. When the police guard +reached Lahore they out of curiosity opened the box, in order to see what the head +looked like. The lid was no sooner lifted than the head flew out and made its way +through the air to Shahlal Mahomed’s favourite village of Fatehpur, wherein the Saint’s +body lay buried. The police guard were so alarmed at the strange behaviour of the +head that they dared neither return to Larkana nor go on to Delhi. They buried the +empty box in Lahore and building a shrine over it, appointed themselves its guardians. +</p> +<p>The emperor, however, who was eagerly expecting the sealed box, got disturbed at its +delay. He sent a body of troops to Lahore to find out what had happened to it. At +first they could find out nothing. At last hearing of the new shrine, they went there +and extorted from its guardians the whole truth. They then dug up the ground and unearthed +the box. Opening it they found it, not only to their own amazement but to that of +the quondam police guard, by no means empty. It contained another head of Shahlal +Mahomed exactly similar to the one that had flown away. The troops carried away box +and head and showed them to Aurangzeb. Convinced of the miracle, the devout emperor +felt sure that he had killed a Saint. To show his repentance of his cruel deed, he +had a tomb built at Delhi over the box and the head. In the meantime, the Larak tribe +and the other countless disciples of Shahlal Mahomed had built the mosque at Fatehpur +over the holy man’s body and true head, once more in union. Thus the great saint is +honoured by no less than three tombs, one at Fatehpur, where lie his real head and +body, a second at Lahore where the empty box was buried and disinterred, and a third +at Delhi where the second head lies. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb65">[<a href="#pb65">65</a>]</span></p> +<p>The descendants of Shahlal Mahomed were the famous Kalhoro Mirs who ruled Sind until +overthrown by the Talpurs. Their capital was Haidarabad but they always loved Larkana +for the sake of their ancestor; and the fame of its prosperity and wealth under the +Kalhoros is still preserved in the well-known couplet +</p> +<div lang="und" class="lgouter"> +<p class="line">Hujie Nano +</p> +<p class="line">Ta gumh Larkano</p> +</div> +<p class="first">If you have money (to spend) then go to Larkana. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch13" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e336">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">TWO LOVE TRAGEDIES.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first"><span class="sc">Kutteji Kabar and Mausum Shah.</span> +</p> +<p>One of the highest peaks of the Baluch mountains along the frontier of the Larkana +district is known as the Kutteji kabar. This is the tale they tell about it. Once +upon a time a rich Brohi hillman owned a very faithful and obedient dog. The Brohi +was at one time rich, but from one cause or another he lost his wealth and of all +his riches nothing was left to him but his dog. One day when he had no money left, +he mortgaged his dog for a hundred rupees to a bania of the neighbourhood. Before +leaving it, he bade his hound <span class="corr" id="xd33e993" title="Source: serv itse">serve its</span> new master as faithfully as it had served him. The dog wagged its tail as if it fully +understood what the hillman told him. +</p> +<p>Several months passed by and the dog was as obedient to the bania as it had been to +the Brohi. One night a band of fierce robbers broke into the house of the bania, over-powered +the inmates and carried off the savings of the merchant’s life-time. After the robbers +had left, the bania began to mourn and beat his breast. In an hour or so the dog came +to him and tugged at his coat. The bania abused and beat it for not having <span class="pageNum" id="pb66">[<a href="#pb66">66</a>]</span>guarded him against the robbers. But the dog continued so to pull at his coat, that +the neighbours advised him to go with the dog and see what it wanted. The dog led +by the way for a mile or so until it came to a torrent bed, when it began to dig in +the ground with its paws. The bania and his neighbours also began to dig; at last +they came upon the bania’s safe with his money secure inside it. The dog seeing that +it could not fight with success against a band of armed robbers, waited until they +had left and then followed them until it saw them conceal their plunder. Then it went +back to tell the bania. The latter was so touched at the dog’s fidelity and sense +that he tied round its neck a letter to the Brohi. In it he told his debtor that he +cancelled his debt and asked him to take his dog back free of incumbrances. Then he +told the dog to go back to its master. Off it went wagging its tail and barking delightedly +at the thought of seeing its old master. +</p> +<p>Now it so chanced that the Brohi hillman had by working in the plains saved a sum +sufficient to pay off his debt and he was returning to the hills to do so. On the +way he met his hound. It rushed towards him in a transport of joy. But the hillman +who knew nothing of the dog’s conduct and did not notice the letter round its neck, +thought that it had disgraced him by running away from his creditor before he had +paid his debt. A man of high honour, he grew very angry and holding out the fingers +of his right hand made the <i>bhundo</i> sign in the dog’s face. This deadly and contemptuous insult was too much for the +poor dog. It fell at its master’s feet and died on the spot. The Brohi tried in vain +to bring it back to life. As he tried, he saw the bania’s letter round its neck and +learnt too late how innocent the dead dog had been. In his grief, he bore the dog’s +body to the highest peak of the neighbouring mountains and buried it there. For some +time he remained by the tomb as its <span class="pageNum" id="pb67">[<a href="#pb67">67</a>]</span>majawar or guardian. Then he sickened and died also. But the peak is still known as +Kutteji kabar. +</p> +<p>Another love story of a different kind is told of the minaret of Mausum Shah, that +looks down from a great height on the thriving town of Sukkur and the splendid river +Indus, as it runs through its two limestone banks. A certain Musulman called Mausumshah +fell in love with one of the bania girls of Sukkur, whose beauty is renowned through +all Sind. But he was a Musulman and the lady was a Hindu. The lady would not join +Islam and he could not, if he would, become a Hindu. Yet unless one or the other became +a convert, marriage between them was impossible. The lady moreover had little liking +for her Musulman wooer, although perhaps a little flattered by his pressing attentions. +To be rid of his ardent importunities, she bade him build a minaret, two hundred feet +high before he aspired to her hand. But she had not realised the passion of the unhappy +Mausum Shah. He set to work, collected stones and coolies and before the Hindu lady +was very much older, she saw to her horror a splendid minaret rising above the ground. +In a few more months it was finished and Mausum Shah full of pride and love went to +claim the hand of his beloved. But as Francis the First, an experienced judge of the +fair sex, used to say “<span lang="fr">Souvent femme varie, fol qui s’y fie</span>,” and the lady proved as untractable as ever. In spite of her former implied promise +she still refused to wed a circumcised barbarian. “I did not say that I would marry +you,” she said “when you had finished the minaret. I only wanted you to build it that +you might throw yourself from the top!” Cruelty could go no further; and the broken-hearted +lover ascending the minaret, took a last view of the splendid panorama unrolled before +his eyes and plunged head first from the pinnacle. Legend, however, relates that he +never struck the ground, nor was he dashed to <span class="pageNum" id="pb68">[<a href="#pb68">68</a>]</span>pieces. A divine hand caught him as he fell and put him safely on his feet. His love +for the beautiful Hindu girl had died within him. He had seen the selfish heart that +beat within her beautiful body. Giving up the things of this world, he became an anchorite +and taught the precepts of Islam until death overtook him. He was buried at the foot +of the tower from which he had once thrown himself. And to this day his tomb and those +of his disciples may be seen there by the visitor to Sukkur. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch14" class="div1 last-child chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e345">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">SWAMI VANKHANDI OF SADH BELO.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">The early history of Sadh Belo is closely connected with that of the famous Swami +Vankhandi. Swami Vankhandi had been incarnated once in the seventeenth century, for +we find him receiving worship as early as 1710. We, however, are only concerned with +his second incarnation, which occurred in or about A.D. 1764. In the later descent +on earth he lived and practised yog or asceticism at Muran Jharee in the territory +of H.H. The Maharaja of Nepal. While he was still a young man his reputation for holiness +spread far and wide; but it aroused the envy and malice of another anchorite of Muran +Jharee named Gusai Sanyasi Sadhu. At last Gusai could contain himself no longer and +made his way to the court of the Maharaja. There he told his sovereign that a certain +sadhu of Muran Jharee had vowed by his austerities to destroy the kingdom. He warned +the Maharaja that for several months the Sadhu had touched neither food nor water +and he begged his master to destroy the Sadhu before it was too late. The Maharaja +was alarmed and sent an army to take prisoner the seditious anchorite and bring him +to <span class="corr" id="xd33e1017" title="Source: Khatmandu">Kathmandu</span>, the chief town of Nepal. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb69">[<a href="#pb69">69</a>]</span></p> +<p>When the army appeared at Muran Jharee, they found Swami Vankhandi absorbed in contemplation. +As they watched him their own warlike spirit ebbed away and they were filled with +a great calm; without saying a word they waited until the Swami thought fit to lift +his eyes towards them. The Nepal General then told the Swami that he had received +orders to take him prisoner and humbly implored his pardon. The Swami forgave him +and told him that he would go on ahead of the army and wait for them at <span class="corr" id="xd33e1023" title="Source: Khatmandu">Kathmandu</span>. With these words the Swami vanished and although the General and his officers searched +for him everywhere, they could not find him. At last they returned to <span class="corr" id="xd33e1026" title="Source: Khatmandu">Kathmandu</span> and just outside the walls, they found the Swami sitting in a deep religious trance, +in the shade of a banian tree. They did not disturb him but went straight to the Maharaja, +to whom they told all that had happened. The Maharaja saw that he had been deceived +by the wicked Gusai and drove him from the town; then he asked for the pardon and +blessing of Swami Vankhandi. The Swami saw that the Maharaja had truly repented and +forgave and blessed him. Then he vanished and in the twinkling of an eye was once +more to be seen at his own place in Muran Jharee. +</p> +<p>Many and great were the miracles recorded of Swami Vankhandi, but the one that will +interest English readers most is the summary way in which he dealt with a certain +Captain Pauk Wales, a gentleman whom I have not been able to trace in English works +of reference. In 1822 Swami Vankhandi after many pilgrimages to the holy shrines of +India came to Sind<span class="corr" id="xd33e1031" title="Source: ,">.</span> Cholera was then raging in Haidarabad, but the Swami’s presence proved sufficient +to drive it away. From Haidarabad he went to Khairpur and Rohri and seeing Sadh Belo +island in the river Indus near Sukkur resolved to settle there and found a monastery. +There he lived for twenty years until such time as Sir Charles <span class="pageNum" id="pb70">[<a href="#pb70">70</a>]</span>Napier conquered Sind and appointed Captain Pauk Wales as Collector of the Shikarpur +district. Captain Pauk Wales, wholly ignorant of the power and fame of the Swami, +thought that Sadh Belo island would be an ideal place for a collector’s bungalow. +With Captain Pauk Wales, action followed swiftly on the heels of thought. He sent +for masons and building materials and began to build a bungalow. But every morning +that he went to look at the work, he found that during the night it had been levelled +with the ground. He was convinced that the masons and the Swami were acting in collusion +and he set a guard of English soldiers over Sadh Belo. Although the soldiers never +closed their eyes all night, Captain Pauk Wales next day found that not only had the +masonry work been thrown down in the night, but that the bricks, mortar and all the +building materials collected by him had vanished. In a rage he went up to the Swami +and roundly abused him. While Captain Pauk Wales was swearing horribly, the Swami, +shocked beyond measure, vanished into thin air. That night both Captain Pauk Wales +and his wife were seized with internal pains of an agonising description. After a +night of anguish Mrs. Pauk Wales advised her lord and master to beg the Swami’s pardon. +For a long time the Swami could not be found, but with the aid of the townspeople, +he was eventually traced to a spot outside Sukkur, where he was quietly singing to +himself. Captain Pauk Wales threw himself at the Swami’s feet and promised never more +to interfere with his holy island. +</p> +<p>Swami Vankhandi lived on to the ripe age of a hundred. Feeling himself nigh to death, +he sent for his disciples and warned them of his approaching end. He told them that +he would hold his breath until his soul departed. When they thought him dead, they +should put a pat of butter on his forehead. If it did not melt, it meant that he had +ceased to live. They <span class="pageNum" id="pb71">[<a href="#pb71">71</a>]</span>should then throw his corpse into the Indus river. The disciples faithfully carried +out their master’s wishes and when the pat of butter did not melt on his forehead, +they threw his body into the great river. They had barely done so, when a rich merchant +of Shikarpur came to Sadh Belo with a precious necklace of pearls for Vankhandi, of +whose death he was unaware. Learning that Vankhandi was no more, the merchant refused +to return to Shikarpur and infinitely firm of purpose, he vowed to sit by the edge +of the river and neither to eat nor to drink until the Swami came himself to accept +the necklace. On the second night the Swami in a dream promised that he would appear +before his devoted follower the next day. Fortified by the vision, the Shikarpur merchant +sat on by the edge of the stream. At noon the body of the Swami rose out of the Indus +and the merchant put the necklace round its neck. The body then lay on the bank and +the merchant called to him the anchorites of the place, who once more consigned reverently +the body of the Saint into the whirling waters of the mighty river. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb73">[<a href="#pb73">73</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div0 part"> +<h2 class="label"><span class="corr" id="xd33e1043" title="Not in source">II.</span></h2> +<h2 class="main">GUZARAT FOLK STORIES.</h2> +<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb75">[<a href="#pb75">75</a>]</span></p> +<div id="ch15" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e358">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">GUZARAT FOLK STORIES—I.</h2> +<h2 class="main"><span class="sc">King Mansing of Sirohi.</span></h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">King Mansing of Sirohi was a very brave Rajput; but he had one fault. He was greatly +addicted to opium, of which he used to drink daily vast quantities from the hand of +his favourite queen. Now it so happened that the Emperor of Delhi came to Rajputana +and camped outside the walls of Sirohi. All night long the emperor and his nobles +drank deep and revelled, while beautiful dancing girls sang to them lascivious songs. +The noise of the music and the dancing could be heard from <span class="corr" id="xd33e1054" title="Source: king">King</span> Mansing’s palace; and all one night, as the king slept, his favourite queen sat up +and listened to it. When Mansing awoke, his queen gave him his opium. As he drank +it, she talked about the wonderful revels of the emperor and the noise of his music +and the lights that blazed all night in his camp. At first Mansing paid no heed to +his queen’s chatter; but at last he got cross and told her not to mention in his presence +the name of the Mleccha emperor. The queen was so infatuated with what she had seen +and heard that she would not stop, but began to compare the gaiety of the emperor’s +camp with the <span class="corr" id="xd33e1057" title="Source: dulness">dullness</span> of life in Sirohi. At last the king lost all patience and boxing his wife’s ears +told her that if she thought so much of the emperor’s camp, she had better go there. +</p> +<p>The queen left the room in a rage and all that day brooded over the king’s words. +That night she took her maid with her and stole out of the palace and through the +city walls into the emperor’s camp. When she reached his tent, she sent her maid to +tell the emperor. He was listening to the singing of his <span class="pageNum" id="pb76">[<a href="#pb76">76</a>]</span>dancing girls and the music of his players; but as soon as he learnt that the queen +was outside, he stopped the music and the singing and had the queen brought before +him with the greatest respect. As she entered the tent the whole company rose and +greeted her. The emperor asked her why she had come. She replied “Grant me a boon, +shelter of the world, and I shall tell you.” The emperor replied “The boon is yours; +you have but to name it.” The queen told the emperor all that had happened and claimed +as a boon that the emperor should marry her. After she had spoken, she took the emperor’s +cup in her hands and drank from it, thus breaking her caste in the sight of all. The +emperor had no wish to quarrel with <span class="corr" id="xd33e1064" title="Source: king">King</span> Mansing of Sirohi, but having made the queen a promise, he had to keep it. He called +the kazi and married the queen. The same night he left Sirohi and marched back to +Delhi. +</p> +<p>The king had seen the queen leave his room in a rage, but he thought no more of the +matter until next morning, when she did not come with his opium. He sent for her; +but as she did not come he called her maids and forced from their trembling lips the +truth. The king said nothing, but swallowing a prodigious quantity of opium, he put +on his armour and summoned his chiefs and nobles. When they had assembled, he told +them that the emperor had seduced his queen and then like a coward had run away to +Delhi. The chiefs and nobles all vowed vengeance and bade the king call out his troops. +At noon the king held a great parade; but when he came to count his warriors, he found +that they barely numbered 6,000. On hearing this, the king’s minister Motishah told +him that he could do nothing with only 6,000 men against the 120,000 men led by the +emperor. “What then can I do?” cried the king. “Let us go to Delhi in disguise,” said +Motishah. “There we <span class="pageNum" id="pb77">[<a href="#pb77">77</a>]</span>shall be able to hit on some plan to win back the queen.” The king agreed; and disguising +themselves as two Rajput soldiers, he and Motishah rode from Sirohi to Delhi. At Delhi +they put up with a mali woman, who worked in the imperial gardens. From her they learnt +that the emperor fearing a rescue, had dug round the queen’s palace no less than seven +trenches. Of these six were filled with water and the inner one with fire. Outside +the trenches he had built a mighty wall. +</p> +<p>That night the king and Motishah disguised as mendicants, but with swords and shields +hidden beneath their yellow robes sallied forth to the queen’s palace. On coming to +the wall, Motishah climbed on to the king’s shoulders and thence on to the wall. He +let down his turban and by its means hauled the king after him. As both could swim, +they easily crossed the six water trenches. They had hoped to find the fire-trench +burning low at night. But the king’s guards before going home had filled it with fresh +wood and it was burning fiercely. Motishah threw his shield into the middle and jumped +on to it. But so great was the heat that he soon felt that his legs would be burnt +off. So keeping his right leg on the shield, he kept his left leg as high as he could, +to save it from the flames. He supported himself on his spear while the king sprang +on his shoulders and leapt to the far side of the trench. Near the palace was a tall +palm tree. Mansing climbed it and reaching the top, tied his turban to one of the +branches. He then swung on his turban to and fro until he was able to swing into one +of the windows of the upper storey of the palace. He tied his turban to the window +sill and went inside. In a room close by he saw his queen sleeping with the emperor. +At first he felt so angry that he would have killed them both, as they slept. Then +he remembered that he was a Rajput and that it was wrong to kill a helpless enemy. +So he woke the queen and with the <span class="pageNum" id="pb78">[<a href="#pb78">78</a>]</span>point of his sword at her throat, he made her get up without waking the emperor. Tying +a rope round her arms and legs and throwing her like a bundle across his back, he +swung back to the palm tree by his turban and slid to the ground. +</p> +<p>Poor Motishah’s right leg was by this time all but burnt off; but when he saw the +king coming back he put his left leg on the shield and over his shoulders the king +climbed across the fire trench. But he could not save his minister. No sooner had +Mansing reached safety than poor Motishah fainted and falling into the trench was +burnt to ashes. Mansing swam with his queen on his back across the six water trenches. +By the aid of Motishah’s turban, which still hung from the wall, he climbed over it +and pulled his wife after him. He seated her on his horse and mounting Motishah’s +mare, galloped off towards Sirohi. When they had ridden some fifty miles, Mansing +stopped to have his morning dose of opium. He then discovered for the first time that +he had dropped his opium box inside the emperor’s palace. Addicted as he was to the +drug, he could do without food, but he could not do without his opium. It would have +been useless for him to ride further, for he would have fallen off the saddle. After +stamping on the ground several times with rage, he tied his queen to a tree. Then +he lay down on the ground and covering his head with a sheet fell asleep. +</p> +<p>In the meantime the emperor had awakened and had missed the Sirohi queen. He asked +his guards and his servants and searched everywhere for her but in vain. Then his +eyes fell on Mansing’s gold opium box. He picked it up and saw engraved on it the +name “Mansing.” He summoned to him his nobles and called for a volunteer to chase +Mansing and bring him back alive. A Musulman noble famed for his courage rose, saluted +the emperor and promised to bring the king back alive. <span class="pageNum" id="pb79">[<a href="#pb79">79</a>]</span>He galloped towards Sirohi and after riding 50 miles overtook the king and queen. +Mansing still lay asleep. The Musulman noble untied the queen but he refused to kill +Mansing, although she begged him to. He must bring him back alive, the Musulman said. +He would give the king opium and then take him back to Delhi. “If you give him opium,” +said the queen, “you will never take him alive, he will kill you.” The Musulman did +not heed her, but mixing opium with water he poured it down Mansing’s throat. Directly +Mansing recovered his senses, he refused to go back to Delhi. He sprang on his horse +and fought the Musulman. But Mansing was still faint from his long privation and the +Musulman disarmed him and tied him to a tree. Leaving the queen to guard her husband +the Musulman went down the steps of a well to wash his face and hands. The queen seeing +her chance, picked up Mansing’s sword as it lay on the ground and struck a blow at +his head. Mansing jerked his head aside. The blade missed his head and grazing his +side cut through the rope which bound him. In a moment he was free. Rushing at the +queen, he twisted the sword from her hand and tied her to the tree. He mixed himself +some more opium. Then arming himself with sword and shield, he went to the mouth of +the well and challenged the Musulman to a second fight. The Musulman came out of the +well, but now that Mansing had had his full dose of opium, no one in the world could +have beaten him. With a single sweep of his sword he severed the Musulman’s head from +his body. Then tying his wife’s hands and feet to her horse, he rode back with her +in triumph to Sirohi. There all the nobles and common people rejoiced at the king’s +feat of arms and were very angry with the queen, who had first left him and then had +tried to kill him. Mansing had her tied to a pillar in the market place. There everyone +threw bricks and stones at her or hit her head <span class="pageNum" id="pb80">[<a href="#pb80">80</a>]</span>with their shoes. She soon died and her body was burnt outside the city walls. +</p> +<p>The emperor was very angry when he heard that Mansing had killed the brave Musulman +noble. He raised a great army and marched against Sirohi. Yet small though the Sirohi +army was, it won repeated victories over the Moghul troops. At last the emperor challenged +the king to a duel, but the emperor was no match for the Rajput king. He was soon +wounded and disarmed. As the price of his life, he agreed to make a treaty by which +he gave great wealth and wide lands to the king of Sirohi. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch16" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e367">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">GUZARAT FOLK STORIES—II.</h2> +<h2 class="main">THE WISDOM SELLER.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Once upon a time there lived a poor Brahman, who earned a tiny income as a clerk. +He had one son, a bright, clever boy, who went to school and was a favourite alike +of boys and masters. He might have risen to great learning, had his father lived. +Unhappily before the boy had left school the poor Brahman died. The boy had to leave +school and try to keep his mother and younger brothers and sisters. At first he became +a candidate for a clerkship in a public office. But this brought him no pay; and although +he wrote petitions in his spare time, he only earned thereby Rs. 3 or Rs. 4 a month. +This sum was not enough to keep him and his family from starving. One day he resolved +to seek some other way of earning a living and this is what he did. +</p> +<p>He went into the town and hired the smallest shop he could find. He spent the few +annas he had in the world in buying some writing paper, an ink pot, a bottle of ink, +a pen <span class="pageNum" id="pb81">[<a href="#pb81">81</a>]</span>and an empty box. Over the shop he got painted the words “WISDOM SELLER.” All round +him were jewellers’ shops, cloth shops, green-grocers’ shops. The other dealers waited +for customers, but the green-grocers shouted to the passersby “Pumpkins! Pumpkins!—three +pice a pound!” The Brahman boy thought that he would do as the green-grocers did and +when any one passed, he called out at the top of his voice, “Wisdom! Wisdom! All kinds! +All prices!” At first the passersby could not make out what he meant. When they understood, +they did not think of buying his wares. They crowded round his shop and laughed at +him. “Who would buy wisdom,” they cried, “especially from a lad like that?” But the +Brahman boy did not mind them at all. He went on shouting at the top of his voice +“Wisdom! Wisdom! All kinds! All prices!” For several days he made no money at all; +but at last the whole city got to hear of the new shop and four or five passersby +stopped and bought an anna or two worth of wisdom. He was thus rather better off than +when he had been an unpaid clerk; but he knew that when the novelty wore off, he would +get no more customers. Still he did not despair. +</p> +<p>It so happened that a certain Nagar lived in that city. He was really very stupid; +but he had inherited a large fortune from his father and so he thought himself very +clever. Just to show off, he called his only son VIDHYA or LEARNING. But <span class="corr" id="xd33e1094" title="Source: inspite">in spite</span> of this grand name, the son was just as stupid as the father. One day Vidhya passed +the Brahman boy’s shop and heard him shout “Wisdom! Wisdom! All kinds! All prices!” +So foolish was he, that he thought wisdom was a sort of vegetable. He first asked +its price per pound. The Brahman boy said “I sell not by weight, but by quality.” +Vidhya then put two pice on the counter and said he would take half an anna’s worth. +The boy wrote on a piece of paper <span class="pageNum" id="pb82">[<a href="#pb82">82</a>]</span>“It is not wise to stand and watch two people fighting.” He then tied the paper inside +Vidhya’s scarf and took the money. Vidhya went home and said to his father “I have +bought some wisdom for two pice and it is tied inside my scarf. Let us undo the knot +and look at it.” His father did not understand, but undid the knot and finding the +paper read “It is not wise to stand and watch two people fighting.” He was very angry +and said to his son “Well, you are a fool! Fancy paying two pice for this nonsense! +Why, every one knows that it is not wise to stand and watch two people fighting.” +In a great rage the Nagar walked to the Brahman’s shop and began to call out “Rogue! +Thief! Cheat! you did my son out of his money, just because he was a foolish boy. +Give me back the two pice, or I shall call the police!” The Brahman kept his temper +and said quietly: “Why are you so angry about nothing? I did not make your son give +me the two pice. He asked me to sell him so much wisdom and I did so. Give me back +my wisdom and take back your money.” At once the Nagar threw the paper at the Brahman +and cried: “Now give me my money!” The Brahman said “No, I said I would give you back +your money if you gave me back my wisdom. You only offer me the paper. If you want +your two pice back, you must sign a document, binding your son never to abide by my +advice and always to stand and watch people fighting.” The passersby took the side +of the Brahman boy. The Nagar signed the document and went away with his two pice, +very pleased to get them back so cheaply. +</p> +<p>Two or three months later each of the king’s two queens sent her maid to buy her some +groceries. They both went to the same grocer and both tried to buy the same article. +As the grocer had only the one sample they began to quarrel so <span class="pageNum" id="pb83">[<a href="#pb83">83</a>]</span>fiercely that the grocer in a fright took to his heels and ran out of the shop. But +the two maids went on quarrelling. Just then Vidhya strolled up and saw the quarrel. +Before meeting the Brahman boy he would have run away; for stupid though he was, he +knew it was unsafe to stand and watch a fight especially between the two queens’ maid-servants. +But he remembered the promise made by his father, so he went close up and watched. +One of the maids noticed him and called on him to witness that the other maid had +struck her. The other maid retorted that so far from giving blows, she had received +any number of them; and she, too, called on Vidhya to be her witness. At last they +separated and the maid-servants and Vidhya went to their several homes. +</p> +<p>The two maids went to their mistresses and exaggerated what had happened. The queens +in turn became furious and sent their maids to complain to the king. At the same time +each sent word to Vidhya that if he did not depose in favour of her maid-servant he +would be beheaded. Vidhya was very frightened and told his father. The two talked +the matter over all that day and all the next night, but they could not find a way +of escape. At last Vidhya said “Let us ask the Brahman boy, who sells wisdom; if he +really has any to sell, he may help me out.” As a last resort, the Nagar agreed and +father and son went to the Brahman boy’s shop and told him what had befallen Vidhya. +The Brahman boy asked for a fee of Rs. 500. On getting the money, he told Vidhya to +feign insanity and to pretend that he did not understand what the king asked him. +Next day the king heard the case. The king questioned him closely, but no question +would he answer. He merely gabbled all the time, until the king lost all patience +and drove him out of the court room. Very pleased with himself, <span class="pageNum" id="pb84">[<a href="#pb84">84</a>]</span>Vidhya ran home and to all whom he met he praised the wisdom of the Brahman boy, whose +fame thus spread through the whole city. +</p> +<p>The Nagar was at first delighted at his son’s escape; then he began to reflect that +his son must always feign insanity or the king would learn that he had been tricked +and would certainly cut Vidhya’s head off. He went to the Brahman boy, who asked for +another fee of Rs. 500 which the Nagar paid. “Vidhya should go to the king,” said +the Brahman boy, “when he is in a merry mood and tell him the whole story. When he +is in a good temper, he will laugh at it and forgive him.” Vidhya followed the advice +and one day finding the king in a good humour he confessed everything. The king laughed +heartily and forgave him. Then he sent for the Brahman boy and asked him whether he +would sell him wisdom and, if so, at what price. “Yes,” said the boy, “I shall be +very proud to sell the king wisdom; but my fee will be one lakh.” The king paid the +lakh and got in return a paper on which the boy had written: “Do nothing without thinking +deeply first.” The king knew the advice to be excellent and dismissing the young Brahman, +he had the words embroidered on all his clothes and engraved on all his plates, cups +and dishes. +</p> +<p>A few months later the king fell very ill. The prime minister eager to get rid of +him, urged the doctor to put poison in the royal medicine. The doctor agreed and gave +the king a poisoned draught. As the king lifted his gold cup to his lips, he saw engraved +on it the words “Do nothing without thinking deeply first.” Without suspecting anything +he thought over the words and lowering the cup looked intently at its contents. The +doctor’s guilty conscience made him fear that the king guessed that the medicine was +poisoned. He threw himself <span class="pageNum" id="pb85">[<a href="#pb85">85</a>]</span>at his master’s feet and confessing everything, prayed for mercy. The astonished king +called the guard and had the doctor seized. He sent for the prime minister and bade +him drink the poisoned medicine. The minister in his turn threw himself at the royal +feet and begged for mercy. But the king had him hanged on the spot. He then sent for +the doctor and after rating him soundly, banished him from the kingdom. Lastly he +made the Brahman boy, whose wisdom had saved his life, Prime Minister and loaded him +with honours. +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch17" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e376">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">GUZARAT FOLK STORIES—III.</h2> +<h2 class="main">MAGADHA AND RUPVATI.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Once upon a time there was a town called Avanti on the banks of the river Kshipra. +It was a famous town and in it lived very many rich men. But all the inhabitants were +not rich, some were very poor. Among the latter was a pious old Brahman called Vishnupriya +or dear to the Lord Vishnu. He had two sons named Deval and Madhav. The former he +married to a proud and lovely girl called Rupvati. For Madhav he got a pure and saintly +girl called Magadha. In course of time the good old Brahman died and after his death +the family became so poor that the two brothers resolved to leave Avanti and seek +their fortune elsewhere. Before they left, they handed over the whole management of +the house to Rupvati. Even Madhav said to Magadha in Rupvati’s presence “You must +obey Rupvati in everything. She is my elder brother’s wife. You are but a foolish, +ignorant girl. She is clever and wise in the ways of the world.” Magadha was not vexed +at what her husband said. She felt sure that what he ordered was for the best and +she promised to do everything that Rupvati told her. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb86">[<a href="#pb86">86</a>]</span></p> +<p>Now Rupvati for all her beauty was really a bad hearted woman and directly her husband +had gone, she began to take as her lovers all the handsome young men of the neighbourhood. +But she feared that Magadha would tell tales about her, so she resolved to turn her +out of the house. She told Magadha that she had been born under an unlucky star and +was the cause of her husband’s and her brother’s poverty. After rating her well, she +beat her and pushing her into the street slammed the door in her face. +</p> +<p>Poor Magadha was at first broken hearted at the way Rupvati had treated her. But after +shedding some tears, she took courage and began to earn her living as a day labourer. +From time to time, too, she used to go to Rupvati’s house and work for her; for so +gentle was her nature that she never bore Rupvati any ill-will. One day in Purshotam +Mas she saw Rupvati worshipping the God Krishna. As she had never seen this done before, +she asked Rupvati to tell her all about it. Rupvati flew into a temper and screamed +at her “You wretched girl, fancy not knowing how to worship Shri Krishna! Why your +very presence is a sin!” With these words she drove her sister-in-law into the street. +As poor Magadha was going home in tears, she met one Bhamini, a friend of Rupvati +and just as unkind and cruel as she was. Bhamini asked her why she cried. Magadha +told her. But Bhamini instead of taking Magadha’s part, thought it a good chance to +play a cruel practical joke on her. She told her that it was Purshotam Mas and that +therefore she should worship the God Krishna. “Most people,” added Bhamini, “bathe +in a river and burn a ghee lamp in a corner of their house in front of images of Krishna +and Radha. Thereafter they feed Brahmans. But I know a much better way to worship +Krishna than that. Choose the dirtiest, nastiest pool that you can find. Bathe in +it and after bathing eat <span class="pageNum" id="pb87">[<a href="#pb87">87</a>]</span>nothing but cold, stale food. Next worship the <i>pipal</i> tree, thinking all the while of Krishna and Radha. Then give to Brahmans alms wrapped +in pipal leaves.” Now this was all wrong; for Shri Krishna does not live in the pipal +tree, which is only the abode of devils. But the cruel Bhamini hoped that in this +way Magadha would incur both God’s displeasure and the curses of the Brahmans. +</p> +<p>Poor Magadha was far too trusting to guess Bhamini’s wickedness and went home very +pleased with her new knowledge. She looked about until she found a pool full of dirty +rain water and swarming with water insects. She bathed in it, then worshipped a pipal +tree, thinking all the while of Shri Krishna. Lastly she went home and ate some cold, +stale food, which she had put by on purpose. Having done this for several days she +invited 108 Brahmans to dine at her house. After she had invited them, she suddenly +remembered that she had no money with which to buy them food, still less to give them +alms afterwards. She did not know what to do, so she prayed all that night and all +next morning to the God Krishna to help her honour the Brahmans when they came. A +little before noon the 108 Brahmans began to collect outside Magadha’s house. But +poor Magadha, who had no dinner to give them, had not the heart to go to the door +and welcome them; so she just stayed inside and prayed to the God Krishna. At last +the Brahmans got very angry and said “What is the use of waiting outside this wretched +little hut? Even if the door was opened, there would be nothing inside to eat.” They +were about to go away when three other Brahmans came up and one of them asked which +was Magadha’s house. Hopes of a good meal once more sprang up in the breasts of the +108 hungry guests and they pointed it out to the newcomers. “We are guests,” they +said, <span class="pageNum" id="pb88">[<a href="#pb88">88</a>]</span>“but she has shut her door in our faces. Are you her relative?” The Brahman who had +spoken, said “Yes, I am Magadha’s brother and these two are our kinsmen. Please wait +outside and I shall go in and see. My sister must be getting ready your dinner.” With +these words he went inside the house, but he found nothing ready. In the middle room +was poor Magadha, praying with all her might to the God Krishna to help her.<span id="xd33e1130"></span> “Why do you not serve the dinner for the 108 Brahmans?” asked the newcomer. “There +is no worse sin than to send away Brahmans hungry from your door.” “I know that,” +replied poor Magadha, “but what can I do? I have no food and no money to buy any.” +“Look in your kitchen,” said the newcomer, “and you will find plenty of food.” Magadha +looked and sure enough the kitchen was as full as it could be. She was so pleased +that she began cooking at once; and two maid-servants, whom she had never seen before +helped her and swept the floor of the dining room and got baths ready for the Brahmans; +when dinner was ready the newcomer called in the 108 other Brahmans and he and his +two kinsmen served the dinner on leaves, which turned into gold plates when the guests +touched them. The Brahmans had never eaten so rich or so big a dinner before. They +got back their good spirits and instead of cursing poor Magadha, they blessed her +from the bottom of their hearts. As they rose to go, the newcomer gave each guest +a packet of pipal leaves as a parting present. The guests thought this a very odd +“dakshina” but when they opened the leaves they found them full of diamonds and pearls +and rubies. +</p> +<p>When all the guests had left, Magadha begged the three Brahmans who had so wonderfully +helped her, to have their meal also. They excused themselves, pleading that they had +already eaten. But they pressed Magadha to eat and she did so. <span class="pageNum" id="pb89">[<a href="#pb89">89</a>]</span>Directly she had finished, her eyes were opened and she saw the three Brahmans and +the two maid-servants as they really were. For the Brahman, who had said he was her +brother was none other than Shri Krishna himself and his two so called kinsmen were +his two friends Uddhav and Akrur; while the two maid-servants were Shri Krishna’s +queens Rukmani and Satyabhama. Magadha threw herself at Shri Krishna’s feet; but the +great God raised her and said “The ceremonies you performed in my honour were all +wrong. But ceremonies are of little value. The true worth of worship is in faith; +and your faith was such that I granted you your prayers.” With these words he took +Magadha by the hand and led her back with him to his heaven Vaikunth. But what happened +to the wicked Rupvati and Bhamini? They were very properly punished. Rupvati in order +to humble poor Magadha still more, had on the same day asked another 108 Brahmans +to dinner, intending to give them a splendid feast and get their blessing, while poor +Magadha fell under the curses of her 108 guests. But the very opposite happened. Rupvati +cooked her dinner and had her house swept and garnished and went out to welcome her +guests. But when she took them into her house there was nothing to eat at all. All +the fine dinner which she had cooked for them had gone. She looked everywhere but +she could not find it. At last she had to send the Brahmans away as hungry and cross +as could be. As they went they called down the most frightful curses on her, so that +she died soon afterwards and went straight to Hell. Nor did Bhamini fare any better. +The God Krishna was very angry with her for telling Magadha to worship him in the +way she did. She lost all her money and became very poor; and when she died she went +to Hell too, and she and Rupvati are still there, keeping each other company. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb90">[<a href="#pb90">90</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch18" class="div1 last-child chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e385">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="label">GUZARAT FOLK STORIES—IV.</h2> +<h2 class="main"><span class="sc">Rupsinh and the Queen of the Anardes.</span></h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">Once upon a time there was a great king of Guzarat, who died leaving two sons Phulsinh +and Rupsinh. On the father’s death Phulsinh mounted the throne. In no long time he +died leaving a widow and no children and Rupsinh became king of Guzarat, although +still a little boy. Phulsinh’s widow would have burnt herself on her husband’s pyre +had not the townspeople bidden her live and care for their child king. +</p> +<p>The widowed queen was very wise and clever. So deft was she with her fingers that +she could dress her hair with oil and afterwards press the hair so skilfully that +not a drop of oil remained in it. On a day when Rupsinh was a lad of fifteen, he lay +asleep with his head resting on the lap of the queen. As he slept, she dressed his +hair with oil and then began to squeeze it out. By chance she pulled out one of Rupsinh’s +hairs. Rupsinh awoke and said crossly: “You are not so clever to-day as usual with +your fingers, or you would not have pulled out my hair.” The queen said with a laugh: +“Yes, I am getting old and make mistakes. If you want someone who will never make +mistakes, you had better marry the queen of the Anardes.” The queen was only joking, +for the Anardes were a race of fairies. But Rupsinh took her words in earnest and +cried “Marry the queen of the Anardes, then, I will! And till I have done so, I shall +neither eat nor drink inside my kingdom.” The poor queen regretted bitterly her words +and begged the young king to pay no heed to them. But the headstrong boy would not +mind her. He told his grooms, to saddle his horses. “Shew me,” he said to the queen, +“the house of the queen of the Anardes. If not, I shall seek her without your <span class="pageNum" id="pb91">[<a href="#pb91">91</a>]</span>aid. I shall ask my way and with God’s help I shall find it.” The widowed queen was +greatly grieved at the way the boy king had taken her words; still, she thought it +best now to help him on his way, rather than to thwart him. +</p> +<p>She said: “If you will go, my King, then heed my words carefully, for the road is +long and full of perils. Trust none whom you meet or you will perish miserably. On +leaving the palace gates ride to the north. In three days’ time you will come to a +dense forest. Ride boldly into it and in its very heart you will find a lake. But +beware of the lake and do not bathe in it or drink its waters. If you do, you will +die; for the lake is a fairies’ lake and no mortal who bathes in it or drinks its +waters can live. Ride therefore past the lake until you come to a great mountain. +Avoid the mountain; for near it lives a monstrous elephant; and should it see you, +it will trample you to death. Beyond the mountain you will come to Thugtown, a town +full of thugs and cheats. They will kill you if they can. If you can outwit the men +of Thugtown, you will come next to a beautiful wood. Here above all be on your guard, +for the wood is peopled by demons who live on human flesh. Beyond the demon’s wood +lie the lands of the Princess Phulpancha. She is so called because her weight is only +that of five flowers. In her country you will surely die; but if someone will drop +on your body three drops of Amrita, or ambrosia from the bottle that I give you, you +will come back to life. Such are the perils that await you, yet if you still wish +to go, take with you my blessing.” As the widowed queen spoke, her voice trembled +and the tears rolled down her cheeks, for she loved Rupsinh as if he had been her +own son. She put in the youth’s hands a bottle of Amrita. He took it, bowed his head +to her feet, mounted his horse and spurring it along the northern road was soon out +of sight. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb92">[<a href="#pb92">92</a>]</span></p> +<p>Three days later Rupsinh saw, as he rode, the forest of which the widowed queen had +spoken. He rode into it and rejoiced in the shade of the great trees overhead. Suddenly +he saw in front of him, like a sheet of silver, a beautiful lake. Forgetting what +the widowed queen had said, he let his horse walk to the edge and quench its thirst. +A moment later he heard a noise of wings above him. He looked up and saw a great company +of fairies on horseback flying towards the lake. The young king in a fright turned +his horse’s head towards the road and tried to spur it into a gallop. But the poison +of the fairy lake was killing the poor horse and after trying feebly to answer to +the spur, it fell down dead. The king undid the girths and taking with him the saddle +ran to a big tree close by and climbed into its branches. The fairies had not seen +him, so they dismounted; tied their horses to trees and plunged gaily into the fairy +lake. Rupsinh slipped down from his tree and slipped noiselessly to where the queen +of the fairies had tethered her horse and put his saddle on its back. He jumped on +it and galloped off. The fairies did not notice their loss until they came out of +the water. The queen was in great distress; and she and other fairies followed Rupsinh’s +tracks until they came near the elephant mountain. Far off they saw Rupsinh galloping +away on the fairy queen’s horse. They called to the elephant to stop him, as he was +a horse thief. The elephant ran after the king and caught him and his horse in its +mighty trunk. Carrying them to the mountain, it tried to crush them to death against +one of its steep sides. The young king was in despair. Then regaining courage, he +slashed so fiercely at the elephant’s trunk with his sword that it let him and the +horse go. +</p> +<p>Rupsinh galloped away until he reached Thugtown. At its gate he saw an old man sitting. +As the king rode up, the <span class="pageNum" id="pb93">[<a href="#pb93">93</a>]</span>old man rose and with great courtesy said “Welcome, Thakor<span class="corr" id="xd33e1156" title="Source: ,">.</span> Your father married you when a child to my daughter; and yet you have never come +to see her until now.” “This is Thugtown<span class="corr" id="xd33e1159" title="Source: .">,</span>” thought the king, “and the old man must be one of the thugs who live there.” Still +Rupsinh could not but return the old man’s greeting. He said “My father died so long +ago that I cannot remember him at all, nor anything he did. It was only the other +day that I heard from a kinsman that my father had married me to your daughter. I +at once set out to claim my bride.” The old man bade the king enter the town and stay +at his house, that he might meet his daughter. They entered the town gates together. +At the old man’s door his four young sons came out and greeted the king as their brother-in-law. +At night they would have led him to a room at the top of the house. But the king guessed +that in the night they meant to throw him from the window. He said he could not sleep +anywhere but on the ground floor. He was so obstinate that the old man at last put +a bed for him in the verandah on the ground floor, while he and his sons slept in +rooms off it. The king kept awake all night. It was well he did so. The queen of the +fairies, who had never ceased to follow her horse’s tracks, came to the old man’s +house and saw Rupsinh lying in the verandah. She tied a magic thread round his ankle +and ran to the stable to mount the horse which the king had stolen. But Rupsinh untied +the thread and tied it round the ankle of the old man. He had no sooner done so, than +the magic thread became quite taut. The fairy queen had mounted her horse and riding +off dragged the old man after her. She never thought of looking back, but galloped +straight off to the elephant mountain. There she threw him before the elephant, who +at once trampled the old man to death. In the meantime Rupsinh drew his sword. Going +to the beds of the four sons, he sternly demanded his horse. One <span class="pageNum" id="pb94">[<a href="#pb94">94</a>]</span>of the four sons went to the stable to saddle it. As it was not there, Rupsinh made +him give him one of the old man’s own horses instead. He then rode as fast as he could +out of Thugtown. +</p> +<p>Rupsinh rode north for some hours when he saw in front of him a beautiful wood. He +at once recalled the widowed queen’s warning about the demons who lived in it. He +entered it. Suddenly he saw two demons fighting together. When they saw the king they +stopped fighting and began to laugh. Rupsinh laughed back and then asked them what +amused them. “We have not tasted human flesh,” said one of the demons, “for twelve +years. When we saw you we laughed for joy. But why did <i>you</i> laugh?” “I am a messenger of the god Shiva” said Rupsinh. “The parchment on one of +his drums is torn and he sent me out to get two demon skins with which to repair it. +The drum is so big that the skin of one demon would not be enough. So when I saw two +demons in front of me, I laughed for joy.” Rupsinh drew his sword and rode at the +demons as if to skin them alive. In an agony of fear they begged him to take the skin +of their blind uncle instead. “One demon’s skin will not do,” said the king sternly; +“besides the skin of a blind demon would sound hollow.” The demons in despair offered +Rupsinh a large ransom, but he would not accept it. At last they offered him a flying +machine known as a pavanpavdi. “In it,” they said, “you can fly all over the sky and +whenever you see a demon on earth, you can come down and skin him.” The king took +the pavanpavdi and tied it on to his horse’s back and rode on until he crossed the +borders of the Princess Phulpancha’s country. Some time later he reached her town +and lodged with an old woman who owned a garden outside the city. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb95">[<a href="#pb95">95</a>]</span></p> +<p>The king had not been there many days before the princess came to hear of him. One +day as he rode under her window her maid-servants whispered to her, “That is the young +king, my Princess.” Phulpancha on the spot fell in love with him. One day Rupsinh +came to his lodging, hungry and thirsty, and asked the old woman to cook him some +food at once. The old woman said that she could not, as she was weaving garlands for +the Princess Phulpancha. The king bade the old woman cook his dinner while he wove +the garlands, which he did very skilfully. He then took off his diamond ring and hid +it in one of them. When his dinner was ready, he ate it and the old woman went to +the palace with the garlands. As the Princess put them round her neck, her fingers +touched the diamond ring. She knew that it must have been sent to her by Rupsinh, +as he lodged with the old woman. Some days later Rupsinh left his lodging and dressed +as a poor Rajput, went to the court of Phulpancha’s father and asked for service. +The old king was pleased with Rupsinh’s speech and bearing and made him chief of the +guards round the Princess’ palace and paid him three gold pieces a day. In this manner +Rupsinh came to see the Princess almost daily and told her all about himself. Some +days later came the weighing of the Princess Phulpancha. It was the custom of the +land that once a year the Princess should be weighed on a pair of magic scales. If +no man but the king had seen her during the previous year, her weight would only be +that of five flowers. But if a man had seen her, her weight would be that of an ordinary +girl of her age and height. At the appointed hour Phulpancha sat on one of the scales, +while the weigher put five flowers on the other. Instead of the five flowers balancing +the Princess, her scale clung obstinately to the ground; and it was not until two +maunds had been put in the other, that the Princess began to move upwards. The old +king <span class="pageNum" id="pb96">[<a href="#pb96">96</a>]</span>made enquiries and came to know that Rupsinh had several times spoken to Phulpancha. +Instantly he had Rupsinh hanged, from the branch of a tree. Fortunately before entering +the king’s service, Rupsinh had told the old woman of the garden about the Amrita. +Hearing of the poor young king’s execution, she went at night and sprinkled three +drops of Amrita over his body. Rupsinh came to life again. But the old woman fearing +the old king’s anger would not take him back. Rupsinh was at first at his wit’s end. +Then he remembered the demons’ pavanpavdi and seating himself in it he rose in the +air and flew northwards. +</p> +<p>After some time the young king came to a big garden in the midst of which was a palace +seven stories high. He entered the palace and ran upstairs until he reached the seventh +storey. On the top stair was seated an aged anchorite who said to him, “Welcome Rupsinh.” +The king was astonished that the anchorite should know his name and he asked the anchorite +how he knew it. “My inner knowledge, my son, tells me your name. I also know that +your brother’s widow anxiously awaits your return. I know, too, that you are fated +to win the queen of the Anardes.” The king begged the anchorite to bless him. The +anchorite did so and added, “To-morrow I shall go to bathe in a pool in the palace +gardens. When I do so, watch carefully the pomegranate trees in the orchard. You will +see the pomegranates on them suddenly open and from each one will come out an Anarde. +They will play and dance together in the garden and she to whom the others will pay +deference is their queen. After a time they will go back to their hiding places. Note +carefully the fruit which the queen enters. Then go down into the garden, pick it +and take it back with you. But do not look behind you, as many others before you have +done, or you will <span class="pageNum" id="pb97">[<a href="#pb97">97</a>]</span>be turned into stone.” Next morning the ascetic went to bathe and Rupsinh did as the +ascetic had told him. He watched the pomegranate trees and soon from each fruit there +dropped to the earth a tiny fairy. One of them, slightly bigger than the others, was +clearly their queen. They played and danced for a time. Then they ran back to their +hiding places. The pomegranates closed and hid their fairy lodgers from view. The +king, however, had seen which pomegranate held the queen. He went into the garden<span class="corr" id="xd33e1177" title="Not in source">,</span> plucked the fruit and turned back to the palace. Voices all round him cried out, +“Strike him! Kill him!” But remembering the anchorite’s words, he never once looked +round until he had reached the palace door. Then he turned and saw the anchorite trying +to soothe the other Anardes, for it was their voices which the king had heard. “It +was fated that one of you should wed a mortal. What <span class="corr" id="xd33e1179" title="Source: has">was</span> fated has happened. So cease from troubling the king and his bride and give them +your blessing instead.” When he had calmed the fairies, he went to the king and said, +“My son, start at once homewards and tarry nowhere on the road. Shew the pomegranate +to no one until you reach your city.” +</p> +<p>The king mounted his horse without delay and started on his homeward journey. In no +long time he saw an ascetic, who for 700 years had been doing penances, in order to +win the queen of the Anardes. The king saluted the anchorite, who asked him whether +he had won his goal. The king foolishly shewed the anchorite the pomegranate and let +him take it in his hand. The sage put it under his foot and when Rupsinh asked for +it back, sternly bade the prince begone. The king grew angry and threatened to take +it back by force. The anchorite turned towards a big tree close by and consumed it +with a single fiery breath. He then said to the youth with a mocking laugh: <span class="pageNum" id="pb98">[<a href="#pb98">98</a>]</span>“When I can blast a tree with a single breath, do you think that I fear you for all +your valour? For 700 years I have sought to win the queen of the Anardes. I shall +not give her up.” But seeing how downcast Rupsinh looked, he gave him a wand and said +“This is a magic wand. Take it. It will beat anyone whom you hate or fear and in battle +it will always give you victory.” The king took the wand, although he thought it a +poor exchange for the queen of the Anardes, and going sadly to his horse got ready +to mount it. As he put his foot in the stirrup, the wand spoke to him with a human +voice, “O King, you do not know my name. It is Lalia Lath. For 700 years I have faithfully +served the anchorite and now he has given me away in exchange for a woman. If you +bid me I will give my old master a sound beating.” Rupsinh, who felt very cross with +the anchorite for stealing the queen of the Anardes, was delighted and said “Yes, +give him a beating, the sounder the better.” The wand then flew from the king’s hand +and began mercilessly to belabour the old sage, until in his pain and fear he threw +away the pomegranate and begged for mercy. +</p> +<p>The king picked up the fruit and with it the wand and he resumed his journey. Several +days later he reached his capital. There he took out of the pomegranate the queen +of the Anardes, who had by this time become reconciled to marrying Rupsinh. After +greeting his sister-in-law, the widowed queen, he began to make everything ready for +his marriage to the fairy queen; and in due time their wedding was celebrated with +the greatest pomp and splendour. Unhappily in the crowd that watched the wedding was +a pretty sweeper girl, called Rukhi and deeply skilled in black magic. She fell in +love with the young king’s handsome face and was filled with jealous rage at the happy +look on the face of the queen of the Anardes. She devised a cruel plot, to kill her. +She sought <span class="pageNum" id="pb99">[<a href="#pb99">99</a>]</span>and obtained service in the palace, where the fairy queen shewed her the greatest +kindness. One day the king, weary with the chase, fell asleep. The fairy queen had +to go to a neighbouring well, to fetch water for her bath. She did not like to leave +the king alone, so she asked Rukhi to watch by him until she came back. Rukhi promised +to do so, but a minute or so later she followed her mistress to the well and pushed +her in. Then she returned to the palace and by her magic made the king believe that +she was the queen of the Anardes. But she could not so deceive the widowed queen. +One day the latter in open durbar challenged Rukhi to go back inside the pomegranate. +But Rukhi was too clever to be caught. She answered with ready wit: “I can no longer +do that, sister, now that I am wedded to a mortal.” She then complained to the king +that the widowed queen always tried to vex her. So Rupsinh quarrelled with his sister-in-law +and drove her out of the palace. +</p> +<p>Now out of the well into which the fairy queen had fallen, there grew a most beautiful +lotus. The gardener picked it and gave it to the king, who in turn gave it to Rukhi. +The latter by her magic knew that the lotus had sprung from the body of the Anarde +queen. She pulled off all its petals and threw it out of the window. The flower fell +into a bed of soft earth and in a month or two there had sprung up a splendid mango +tree that bore delicious fruit. Rukhi had the tree cut down but before it was felled, +a bania had picked one of the mangoes and given it to his wife to eat. A year later +she bore him a beautiful little baby girl. As the little girl grew up, she became +the living image of the queen of the Anardes. +</p> +<p>Rukhi guessed that she must have sprung from the mango, which had sprung from the +lotus that had grown in the well, where the poor queen had been drowned. Rukhi began +to <span class="pageNum" id="pb100">[<a href="#pb100">100</a>]</span>complain of a bad pain and told the king that she had been bewitched by the bania +girl and would not get well while the girl lived. The king had the bania girl hanged +outside the eastern gate of his city. Another marvel then happened. The girl’s head +changed into an image of the God Shiva and her body into an image of the Goddess Parvati. +Her right eye turned into a cock sparrow and her left eye into a hen sparrow. Her +two legs turned into two plantain trees. When Rukhi heard of this, she got terribly +afraid that the king would pass that way and see what had occurred. She told him never +to pass by the eastern gate or the spirit of the witch girl would possess him. The +king did not pass that way for a long time; but one day his horse ran away with him +and took him to the eastern gate. He saw there a noble temple to the God Shiva. He +went inside to pray. +</p> +<p>As he prayed, he heard the hen sparrow say to her mate: “The king of this city is +a fool” and thereupon she told the cock sparrow the whole tale of the queen of the +Anardes. “This very night,” continued the hen sparrow “the queen will come out of +one of the plantain trees, into which the bania girl’s legs have changed. She will +worship the God Shiva, re-enter the plantain stem and never again be seen on earth.<span class="corr" id="xd33e1198" title="Not in source">”</span> The king heard the story and resolved to stay there all night. He did so and at midnight +he saw one of the plantain <span class="corr" id="xd33e1200" title="Source: stem">stems</span> open. Out of it came the queen of the Anardes. She began to pray to the God Shiva. +Before she had ended her prayer, the king caught her by the hand. “Who are you?” cried +the queen “and why do you take my hand?” “I am your husband Rupsinh,” replied the +king penitently. “I have been blind and cruel. But pray forgive me and I shall live +with you always.” +<span class="pageNum" id="pb101">[<a href="#pb101">101</a>]</span></p> +<p>The queen was unwilling to stay, but Rupsinh held her firmly all night by the hand. +Next morning the king’s ministers and the widowed queen missing him, went in search +of him. When they found him at the temple, the king told his sister-in-law all that +had happened and begged her forgiveness also. The widowed queen, to test the story, +shewed the pomegranate to the fairy queen and bade her hide herself inside it. She +did so. The widowed queen called to her and she came out. The widowed queen had no +longer any doubts. She buried the pomegranate in the earth and went back with the +king into his city. There the king called together the townspeople and before them +all repudiated the sweeper woman Rukhi. He then had her hanged on the very spot where +the bania girl had been executed. After thus ridding himself of Rukhi, he sent for +the Princess Phulpancha and married her as well as the queen of the Anardes. In their +company and that of the widowed queen, the king lived happily for ever so many years +afterwards. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb103">[<a href="#pb103">103</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="div0 last-child part"> +<h2 class="label"><span class="corr" id="xd33e1209" title="Not in source">III.</span></h2> +<h2 class="main">ROUND ABOUT NASIK.</h2> +<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb105">[<a href="#pb105">105</a>]</span></p> +<div id="ch19" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e398">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main">ROUND ABOUT NASIK.</h2> +</div> +<div class="divBody"> +<p class="first">The Nasik golf course with its many traps for the unwary, the club house with its +friendly welcome, the dak bungalow embowered in trees are well known to the golf-loving +Bombay resident. But there is another part of Nasik, its river, which is to him an +unknown province. Yet pilgrims go there in thousands from all parts of the peninsula. +Bones of dead men, who died a hundred leagues away are brought almost daily to be +thrown into its waters. On its banks may be seen at any time young Brahmans practising +<i>Prayanam</i> or breathing exercise or doing the <i>Achaman</i> rite, that is to say sipping water while repeating the name of some particular deity. +There too may sometimes be seen the naked anchorite to whom the whole world stands +in lieu of a garment; and he is not the least unhappy. As the Sanskrit verse has it +“Courage is his father, Forgiveness is his mother, Tranquility is his wife; Truth +is his son, Mercy is his sister, Self-restraint is his brother, Earth is his bed and +the eight directions are his dwelling place.” Let us therefore leave the golf course +and the club house and wander together along the banks of the holy river. +</p> +<p>In the first place how did the Godavari come to Nasik<span class="corr" id="xd33e1222" title="Source: .">?</span> Once upon a time the river Ganges was brought down from heaven by the austerities +of King Bhagiratha of Ayodhya, so that he might perform the funeral rites of his kinsmen, +the sixty thousand sons of King Sagar. To prevent the Ganges destroying the earth, +the God Shiva caught her in his hair as she fell and kept her there for a whole year. +Well the Ganges is a lady as well as a river and after some time Shiva’s queen, Parvati, +grew bitterly jealous of the fair woman, whom her husband <span class="pageNum" id="pb106">[<a href="#pb106">106</a>]</span>carried continually in her hair. She consulted her son the elephant-headed Ganpati. +That wise one found a solution for the difficulty. It so happened that at this time +a <i>rishi</i> of extraordinary powers and merits named Gautama lived near what is now the bed of +the Godavari river. To supply his limited needs he cultivated a little rice field. +Ganpati turned himself into a cow and wandering towards Gautama’s rice field began +shamelessly to eat the holy man’s scanty crop. Gautama, justly enraged, rose and with +his staff admonished sharply the cow, that respected so little his sanctity. This +was what Ganpati had foreseen. He fell dead on the spot. The news spread that Gautama +had killed a cow. The neighbourhood was deeply shocked. Then through Parvati’s and +Ganpati’s combined contrivance, the monsoon failed. The cause was clear. The <i>rishi</i> had killed a cow and the gods to punish him for this fearful sin had withheld the +rains. The neighbours going in a body to the guilty <i>rishi</i> dilated on the sin that he had committed, until they had extracted from him a promise +that he would by his austerities obtain water for their crops. Gautama to fulfil his +promise went through the most incredible penances in honour of the God Shiva, until +the latter asked the <i>rishi</i> what he wanted. “I want some of the Ganges water for the country side,” replied the +sage and he told Shiva the story of the sin which he had inadvertently committed. +The God smiled as he heard the tale, because he guessed how it had come to pass. To +humour his queen and at the same time to oblige the <i>rishi</i>, he released a part of the Ganges river at Trimbak and it became the Godavari. The +neighbours of Gautama sowed their crops, the Ganges having lost the fairest portion +of her waters lost half her beauty and Parvati ceased to be jealous. +</p> +<p>Having brought the Godavari to Nasik let us next consider why Nasik rather than other +spots along the river bank is so <span class="pageNum" id="pb107">[<a href="#pb107">107</a>]</span>holy. The reason is that it was at Nasik that the hero King Rama of Ayodhya built +his hermitage. The tale runs that his father King Dasharatha, urged thereto by his +queen Kaikeyi, drove his eldest son Rama into exile, so that her son Bharata might +succeed to the throne. The intrigue failed because Prince Bharata refused to oust +his eldest brother. But Rama in order to abide by his father’s words went with his +brother Laxman, and his wife Sita, to live at Panchvati or Nasik. There they built +themselves a hermitage and there Rama performed the funeral ceremonies of his father, +when the latter died of grief at the loss of his son. It was there, too, that Laxman +cut off the nose of a female demon called Surpanakha who fell in love with Rama and +tried to kill Sita in the hope of winning Rama’s undivided affections. Ravana, King +of Ceylon, was the brother of Surpanakha and when his mutilated sister came shrieking +to his court, he promised her that she should be avenged. To carry out this promise, +he called in the aid of another demon named Maricha. The latter disguised himself +as a deer with a golden hide and with horns glittering with precious stones. Sita +attracted by the beautiful beast begged Rama to go and kill it and fetch her the hide +and the horns. Rama agreed but before he went, he drew with his finger two long lines +which together formed a sort of enclosure. “If you stay inside these two lines,” he +said to his wife, “no harm can come to you. If you stray beyond them, I shall not +be able to protect you.” Sita promised to stay within the two lines and Rama and Laxman +went in pursuit of the golden deer. Instantly King Ravana who had been hovering in +the sky inside his aerial car, descended to earth and assuming the form of a mendicant +approached the hermitage of Sita and asked her for alms. Sita invited him to come +to the door. But intending evil as he did, he could not cross the lines which Rama +had drawn. So he <span class="pageNum" id="pb108">[<a href="#pb108">108</a>]</span>answered haughtily that a religious mendicant did not run after alms. Those who wanted +his blessings had to come to him. He accepted alms not as a favour received but as +a favour conferred. The unsuspecting Sita unwilling to enrage the holy man went towards +him, crossed the southern line and handed Ravana the alms. At once he reassumed his +proper guise and seizing her by the hair threw her into his chariot and carried her +off to his island kingdom of Lanka. The two lines are visible to this day and are +known as the Aruna and Varuna streams. +</p> +<p>The chief temple in Nasik is known as Kapileshwar. This is the story told of it. On +one occasion the goddess Parvati for fun put her hands over her husband Shiva’s eyes. +But the great god was in no humour for fun. He opened his third eye and with it burnt +up the sun, the earth and last but not least Brahmadev’s fifth head. When Shiva had +recovered his temper, he restored the sun and the earth, but he was not able to restore +Brahmadev’s fifth head. As a punishment for burning up another god’s head, he was +condemned always to see it dancing before his eyes. The punishment was a very severe +one and to rid himself of the horrible vision, Shiva wandered all over India visiting +in vain shrine after shrine. At last he came to the banks of the Godavari and sat +down to rest under a tree. As he sat he overheard a conversation between a young bull +and a staid old cow, its mother. “To-morrow,” said the old cow, “our master will put +a ring through your nose and yoking you to a plough will make you work for the rest +of your life.” “Indeed, he will do nothing of the kind,” said the wicked young bull. +“If he tries, I shall gore him to death.” “O, you cannot gore him to death,” said +its mother deeply shocked. “He is a Brahman.” “Never mind,” said the abandoned young +bull, “I know how to purify myself even from the deadly sin of Brahmahatya or Brahman +murder.” The God Shiva was <span class="pageNum" id="pb109">[<a href="#pb109">109</a>]</span>greatly interested in this talk. He thought to himself that if the bull could purify +itself from Brahman murder, he (Shiva) could, by doing what it did, purify himself +from the sin of having burnt off one of Brahmadev’s five heads. Next morning he returned +to the spot, where he had heard the conversation. In a little time the Brahman came +and tried to fasten the ring in the young bull’s nose. The graceless beast threw him +on his back and gored him to death. From being pure white, it became jet black with +sin. However, it did not mind a bit, but galloping off with its tail in the air, plunged +into the pool where Rama had performed the obsequies to his dead father. It became +at once pure white, such was the holiness of the water. The tip of its tail, however, +which it had held high in the air to shew its defiant spirit, remained black. The +God Shiva watched the incident closely and immediately afterwards plunged also into +the water. The same moment the ghastly vision which had haunted him disappeared. Close +to the spot where these events happened was built the temple of <span class="corr" id="xd33e1248" title="Source: Kapileshar">Kapileshwar</span> or the god of the head. It is a temple to the God Shiva and commemorates his punishment +and his release. It is the only temple in India where no bull kneels reverently in +front of the God. For whereas in other spots the bull is regarded as Shiva’s servant, +here the bull is regarded as the great god’s guru or teacher; for he taught the god +to get rid of the vision that haunted him. Another fact proves the truth of the above +story. Ever since, all white Deccan bulls have had black tips to their tails. +</p> +<p>At a little distance from the river is a pool known as Indra’s pool. The tale told +about it is the following: Once upon a time there lived another great rishi also called +Gautama. He had a charming and virtuous wife called Ahalya. Unfortunately her beauty +caught the fleeting fancy of the God Indra. <span class="pageNum" id="pb110">[<a href="#pb110">110</a>]</span>He made to her certain improper proposals which she indignantly rejected. He then +plotted with the moon to overcome her resistance. The moon rose two hours earlier +than he (for the moon is masculine in India) should have done. Gautama anxious to +worship the sun before he rose went to the river bank to bathe. The moment he went, +Indra took his form and bade Ahalya rise and go with him. She thinking that it was +her husband did as she was told. But just then Gautama detected the moon peeping over +the horizon to see the fun. He at once ran back to the hermitage and caught Indra +in the very act of going off with his wife. He held a summary trial, turned his wife +into a stone, painted a black patch on the moon’s face and made a thousand sores come +on Indra’s body. This state of things endured for several hundred years until one +day King Rama’s foot touched by accident the stone that had been Ahalya. She at once +resumed her former shape. Rama took her to her husband and made him forgive her. The +God Indra took courage at this and begged Gautama to forgive him too. The rishi turned +his sores into eyes, but told him that, as he had behaved in a manner unbecoming a +god, he never would be worshipped again. Indra went sadly away and at the <i>rishi’s</i> command bathed in the pool of which I have spoken, and his sores all became eyes. +But never since has he been worshipped in India. Lastly the moon begged for mercy. +But the rishi would not abate a jot of his punishment and he wears a black smudge +to this day. +<span class="pageNum" id="pb111">[<a href="#pb111">111</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +<div id="ch20" class="div1 last-child chapter"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#xd33e407">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divHead"> +<h2 class="main"><span class="corr" id="xd33e1260" title="Not in source">July and December</span></h2> +<div class="lgouter"> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">When the wild Indian rains hide the hilltops and the plains— +</p> +<p class="line xd33e1264">Teeming rain, steaming rain, blotting out the sky— +</p> +<p class="line">When the breakers leap and fall at the bidding of the squall, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e1264">Then I think me of England, of England in July. +</p> +<p class="line">I wander in my dreams by her meadows and her streams— +</p> +<p class="line xd33e1264">Olden streams, golden streams flowing towards the sea— +</p> +<p class="line">And I see their tiny billows as they lap against the willows, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e1264">And the red rose is blowing—Ah! ’tis there I would be.</p> +</div> +<p class="tb">* * *</p> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">But when Autumn with a sigh in December turns to die, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e1264">She’s a dark land, a stark land, grim and chill and grey. +</p> +<p class="line">When they lie the sodden leaves on the choking, dripping eaves +</p> +<p class="line xd33e1264">And the window panes are blurred, then ’tis well to go away! +</p> +<p class="line">Yes, ’tis well to go away where there’s sunshine all the day, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e1264">Where down from the hills blows the dry, crisp wind, +</p> +<p class="line">Where one hears the wild duck whirring and one sees the rushes stirring +</p> +<p class="line xd33e1264">And the hog deer’s in the forests by the waterways of Sind!</p> +</div> +<p class="tb">* * *</p> +<div class="lg"> +<p class="line">Then she’ll come across the brine, dear lady love of mine +</p> +<p class="line xd33e1264">(Steamship, dreamship! bring her safe again!) +</p> +<p class="line">And the white clouds above, they will greet my ladylove, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e1264">And the blue skies will laugh as she speeds across the main. +</p> +<p class="line">And the great seas will roar on the gleaming Arab shore, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e1264">(White rocks, bright rocks smile at her from me!) +</p> +<p class="line">While the trade wind blows, just to fan her as she goes, +</p> +<p class="line xd33e1264">Till I see her kerchief waving, as I stand upon the quay.</p> +</div> +</div> +<p><span class="pageNum" id="pb112">[<a href="#pb112">112</a>]</span></p> +</div> +</div> +</div> +</div> +<div class="back"> +<div class="div1 imprint"><span class="pageNum">[<a title="Go to the table of contents" href="#toc">Contents</a>]</span><div class="divBody"> +<p class="first center small"><span class="sc">Printed and Published for the Hon. Mr. Kincaid, C.V.O.,<br> +by G. A. Holdaway, General Manager, at The Daily<br> +Gazette Press, Limited, Caxton House,<br> +Kutcherry Road, Karachi.</span> +</p> +</div> +</div> +<div class="transcriberNote"> +<h2 class="main">Colophon</h2> +<p>The new cover art included with this eBook is hereby granted to the public domain.</p> +<h3 class="main">Revision History</h3> +<ul> +<li>2025-10-04 Started. +</li> +</ul> +<h3 class="main">Corrections</h3> +<p>The following 81 corrections have been applied to the text:</p> +<table class="correctionTable"> +<tr> +<th>Page</th> +<th>Source</th> +<th>Correction</th> +<th>Edit distance</th> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e169">II</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Brahminabad</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Brahmanabad</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e178">III</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">millenium</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">millennium</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e183">IV</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">craftmanship</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">craftsmanship</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><i title="25 occurrences">Passim. +</i></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Makdum</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Makhdum</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e419">7</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] +</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">I.</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e421">7</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] +</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">SIND FOLK STORIES.</td> +<td class="bottom">18</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e535">18</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Musalmans</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Musulmans</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e548">19</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e781">36</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e806">39</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e813">40</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e828">41</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e843">43</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e850">44</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1054">75</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1064">76</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">king</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">King</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e553">19</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Moliere’s</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Molière’s</td> +<td class="bottom">1 / 0</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e574">21</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">ever</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">never</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e603">24</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e835">42</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1198">100</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] +</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">”</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e610">25</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">hard hearted</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">hard-hearted</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e630">28</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e633">28</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">MAKDUM</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">MAKHDUM</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e717">31</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="fr">lâme</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="fr">l’âme</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e748">33</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">King’s</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">king’s</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e755">34</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Upto</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Up to</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e771">35</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">circumtsances</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">circumstances</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e809">39</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] +</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">.</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e818">40</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">a hawking</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">a-hawking</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e823">41</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">his</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">her</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e833">42</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1130">88</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">”</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Deleted</i>] +</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e837">42</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">,“ </td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">, “</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e861">45</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1177">97</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] +</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">,</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e883">50</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">“</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Deleted</i>] +</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e902">53</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">half mad-woman</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">half-mad woman</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e916">55</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">-</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Deleted</i>] +</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e944">59</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">lion hearted</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">lion-hearted</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e953">61</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">southern most</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">southernmost</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e993">65</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">serv itse</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">serve its</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1017">68</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1023">69</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1026">69</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Khatmandu</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Kathmandu</td> +<td class="bottom">2</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1031">69</a>, <a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1156">93</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">,</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">.</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1043">73</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] +</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">II.</td> +<td class="bottom">3</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1057">75</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">dulness</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">dullness</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1094">81</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">inspite</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">in spite</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1159">93</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">.</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">,</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1179">97</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">has</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">was</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1200">100</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">stem</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">stems</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1209">103</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] +</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">III.</td> +<td class="bottom">4</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1222">105</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">.</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">?</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1248">109</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Kapileshar</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">Kapileshwar</td> +<td class="bottom">1</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td class="width20"><a class="pageref" href="#xd33e1260">111</a></td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en"> +[<i>Not in source</i>] +</td> +<td class="width40 bottom" lang="en">July and December</td> +<td class="bottom">17</td> +</tr> +</table> +</div> +</div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 76982 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/76982-h/images/new-cover.jpg b/76982-h/images/new-cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2c3d612 --- /dev/null +++ b/76982-h/images/new-cover.jpg diff --git a/76982-h/images/titlepage.png b/76982-h/images/titlepage.png Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..c4f1d8c --- /dev/null +++ b/76982-h/images/titlepage.png |
