Chapter 8
"Another full week passed, and I began to hope that the threatened persecution had indeed been abandoned. Recovered from my wounds and bruises, I was able now to be out and about again, endeavouring to restore order to my troubled affairs. One afternoon on my home-coming, I found the women lamenting with loud outcries over the body of my eldest son, a lad of seven years. Unseen by any of the household he had been knocked down on the road and crushed under the wheels of a heavy wagon that was travelling past.
"That night, when his poor little body was being made ready for burial, my elder wife, his mother, led me to the side of the bier. Uncovering the child's shoulder, she showed me a strange mark, as if branded upon the flesh by a hot iron. In the red, angry lines I had no difficulty in tracing the head of a bull, the sacred mark of Siva. I said nothing, and indeed commanded my wife to hold her peace.
"I knew now that this cruel calamity was indeed a warning from the accursed priesthood, who had not even scrupled to murder an innocent child so that they might wreak their vengeance on me or break my will.
"But, if I had been determined before, ten times more now was I resolved never to yield. No cowardly surrender could bring me back my child. The boy was dead, and what was done could not be undone, for the will of God is eternal.
"That very night I visited the Ganapati, and in the frenzy of my bitter grief and righteous wrath I swore, with clenched fist shaken before his twinkling eyeballs, that I would break him into pieces, throw the blue diamonds into a fire of charcoal, and myself die, rather than restore him to the infidels who had destroyed my happiness and my home.
"The next blow fell swifter than ever. Only four days had passed when the bereaved mother, who had refused to be consoled for the death of her only child, was found drowned at the bottom of the well in the harem garden. The household was plunged in lamentation over her pitiful act of self-destruction, and now I became vaguely conscious that friends and neighbours, as well as servants, were looking at me askance, and were beginning to shun my presence as if a curse had fallen upon my head.
"It was at the funeral ceremonies of my wife that I was first made pointedly to feel that there rested over me the suspicion of some terrible crime that had drawn down the special wrath of Allah. Standing in isolation, at a time when my sorrowing heart yearned for brotherly comfort, I realized that already I was an outcast from among my own people, one whom they deemed to be marked by heaven for special vengeance, a moral leper, a menace to the community, to be shunned for all time by his fellow men.
"And there and then I made up my mind to flee secretly to another country, sending later for my surviving wife and children, abandoning all my other possessions in the shape of land and cattle and accumulated stores, but clinging to the blue diamonds which would yet bring me riches out of all proportion to those of which fate was robbing me at the present time.
"For the third and final warning had passed, although no one but myself had thought of my wife's death otherwise than as a case of grief-demented suicide.
"But, as she had lain on her bier, I had looked secretly, and had found the brand of the bull on her shoulder blade, just as she had found it on that of her murdered boy. Allah alone knows how this last crime was wrought--how access to the women's quarters had been gained, and how the fatal seal of Siva had been impressed upon her flesh before she had been flung into the well.
"To me has this ever remained a mystery of mysteries.
"So the three warnings had been delivered--the burning of my crops, the slaying of my child, the drowning of my wife. Unless by the morrow I made signs of submission by taking the road to Ferishtapur, there to surrender the Ganapati, it would assuredly be upon myself that the sword of fate would next descend.
"That very night of the funeral, after securely barricading the outer gates of the house, I locked myself in the treasure chamber. Not a servant had remained in the home upon which the curse of God had descended; even the two women slaves had fled in the dusk of the evening, gone, I knew not whither, and now I little cared. My surviving wife and children, tiny infants, a girl and a boy, were asleep in an inner room; I had glanced at their slumbering forms when passing to the corridor that led to the secret doorway.
"I lost no time in beginning my preparations for departure. First of all I unlocked my strong box, and drew therefrom a small sack of gold mohurs, and another of gold pagodas, also sundry family jewels, armlets and necklets of gold, gemmed rings, and other trinkets of price. All these I tied tightly in a cotton cloth, forming a package that I could conveniently and without undue attention carry at my saddle-bow or in my hand. The bags of silver money, likewise the store of silver bangles, I would leave behind; they were cumbersome, and moreover they would serve to meet the necessities of my wife and children during our period of severance.
"Then I turned to the Ganapati, and after swathing him as before in the cotton quilt, so as to deaden the sound of the gong, with my hands beneath the covering I pressed upon the jewelled eyeballs. I had not gazed upon the blue diamonds since the day when I had restored the two stones shown to the banian merchant in Lahore. As the wheels now clicked and the muffled bell commenced its dulled clangor, the uneasy thought came to my mind that perhaps the treasure had in the interval been spirited away by some devilish jugglery. But when at last silence fell, and I whipped the cloth aside, there reposed the crystal casket, and, the lid of gold removed, my eyes fastened with grim satisfaction upon the clustered heap of gems, gleaming in the light of my tiny oil lamp like drops of rain in a flash of lightning.
"Assured of their safety, I pressed down the cap on the casket, and bound the crystal ball securely in my waistband.
"Then I turned round to seize an iron hammer which I had brought with me for the deliberate purpose of smashing the accursed idol to pieces, partly in revenge, partly to secure the bejewelled eyeballs. But at that very moment I became possessed with the notion that I was not alone in the room. My heart beat wildly, and I raised aloft the little lamp. Nothing but four bare walls, and not even a window through which an enemy might be peering!
"I breathed again, and grasped the handle of the hammer. Yet my uneasy dread was still with me, for I paused once more, this time to listen. Not a sound without, or the whisper of a sound!
"But what was that?--the creak of a timber not louder than if a mouse had stirred. And, directed by the faint sound, I saw the wooden bolt that fastened the door on the inside heave, just once, as if by the pressure of a lever cautiously at work on the other side. The hammer slipped to the rug from my unnerved fingers.
"Lamp in hand, I stole to the door, on tiptoe, step by step, afraid to awaken the echo of a footfall. I touched the wooden bolt with a finger tip; I pressed my ear against the panel. And now, every fibre of my being at tension, my senses quickened by the unseen but certain presence of danger, I could hear at the other side of the thin boards the eager breathing of the fanatic devil of a priest who had come to slay me, miserably trapped like a panther in a pit. At this thought the very blood froze in my veins. My hand relaxed its hold on the lamp, and in its fall the light was extinguished.
"Alone in the dark with the Ganapati, and with the human tiger at the other side of the door, I shrieked aloud.
"In prompt answer to my cry of pent-up agony came the sharp sound of splintering timber, and before me, revealed by the flare of a torch held aloft in one hand, appeared the dread visage of the Hindu priest, contorted now by his mingled emotions of hate and triumph. For his eyes had lighted on the idol, and it was with a shout of joyful recognition, 'Ganapati! Ganapati!' that the fanatic flung himself upon me, and plunged a dagger into my throat. Then the curtain of black forgetfulness descended and covered me with its folds.
"I know not what time elapsed, but I was awakened to the consciousness that I was yet alive by a tongue of flame that leaped at my face, and, scorching my skin, caused me to stir instinctively in self-preservation. Raising my head from the pool of blood in which it had been weltering, and moving my stiffened neck with difficulty because of the dagger wound, the mark of which I carry to this day"--upraising his chin, the fakir laid a finger on a tiny but palpable scar--"I struggled to a sitting posture, and looked about in dazed bewilderment. But ere I could realize what had happened, again the blistering heat of fire that ran along the walls of the room caused me to stagger to my feet. Then as I gazed around, through a haze of smoke illumined by fitful, flickering gleams of ruddy radiance, all of a sudden came remembrance of the deadly assault and comprehension of my present danger.
"One swift sweeping glance showed me that the Ganapati was gone, and that my strong box, too, with its silver hoard had disappeared, together with the package of gold coin and jewellery. My hands went instantly to my waistband; it had been torn open, and the crystal casket that held the blue diamonds abstracted.
"So the murderous priest had not only recovered his own, but had robbed me of my all!
"There was no time, however, to reflect or to moralize, for the loud crackling of fire amid the woodwork warned of my imminent peril. Flinging the skirt of my robe across my face, I made one frantic dash for safety through the splintered panels of the door, the only exit from the room, regardless of the billows of mingled smoke and flame that were now rolling along the corridor.
"Half suffocated, almost blinded by the pungent fumes, my flesh seared, my garments aflame, I reeled into the courtyard of the women's quarters, and threw myself into the fountain splashing in the middle of the marble pavement. Then, drawing myself out of the water like a bedraggled rat, I crawled on hands and knees to the apartment of my wife.
"God! God! It was to find her and our two little children dead--stabbed to the heart on the sleeping mats where they lay."
A sobbing wail burst from the narrator's lips, and he covered his face with his hands. After a time he recovered his self-possession, and resumed, although still in broken tones and with shoulders heaving from emotion.
"I need not dwell on the pitiable story. Gaining the open country, I gazed upon the fierce flames now bursting in a dozen places from the roof of my doomed home, the funeral pyre of the last ones dear to me on earth.
"As I gazed I rent my garments, and raised my voice in loud lamentations. Soon all was consumed, and there remained only the dull glow of red embers. Then I wandered out into the night, stupefied and broken-hearted by the crowning calamity that had overtaken me, afraid even to face my neighbours of the village, naked, penniless, and alone.
"Thus did it come about that I, a man of estate, feudatory of a prince, within the period of a single moon lost wives and children, slaves and retainers, land and crops and cattle, family jewels, stores of gold and of silver, and also the blue diamonds of the idol for the retention of which I had rashly but unknowingly ventured all that I had of happiness in this world.
"And since that day of final disaster I have journeyed over the face of the land trying to find, not the blue diamonds, not my stolen hoard, but that fiend incarnate, the priest of Siva, who slew my wives and children.
"I go about, now a Moslem fakir with the right of entry to the mosques where I may worship the only true God and Mohammed his prophet, now disguised as a Hindu yogi, crying 'Ram, Ram,' so that I may gain access to the temples of the idolators, there to find the Ganapati with the jewelled eyes, and by that token discover the man for whom I am ever seeking. Every year I revisit Ferishtapur, whence the idol was originally taken by my hand from the wrecked temple, but thither neither the priest nor the Ganapati has ever returned. At other times I travel from one city to another, searching for temples, mingling with the devotees at the recurring festivals, the Holi, the Durgapuga, the feast of lanterns, and watching the processions when the idols and their custodians visit each other's shrines or go to the river for the blessing of the waters. But wander where I may, priest or Ganapati have I never seen again.
"Thus have passed fifty long years, during which I have lived for one thing alone, and that----revenge!"
* * * * *
Pausing before the last word, then uttering it in a scream that pierced the night air, the fakir sprang to his feet, and, swept by a sudden gust of overmastering passion, raised his hands high to heaven--a weird and eerie figure in the silver sheen of the moon.
"Deen! deen! deen!" he cried, dancing around as he shrilly voiced the fanatic call to massacre--the dread call which through the centuries has drenched with human blood a thousand shrines, both Moslem mosques and Hindu temples.
"Subah!" shouted the Afghan general, half rising, his hand on his sword hilt. "Stop that, you son of a dog, or I will make you meat for jackals. Subah!" At the reiterated stern command the dancing figure became instantly rigid. Then, just as suddenly as he had leaped from his crouching attitude, the fakir sank to the ground in a huddled heap, his face buried in the dust.
"You would be happier to-day, O man of many sorrows, had you followed the philosophy of 'kooch perwani'--had you said to yourself: 'What is done is done, and cannot be undone. Let it pass. Kooch perwani--no matter.'"
It was the Rajput who was speaking, in rebuke yet in commiseration.
"Even when all seemed lost" continued the Hindu soldier, "you should have forgotten the blue diamonds, the abiding greed for which was the real cause of your undoing; you should have forgotten your lost wealth and honourable position, your dear ones gone to the abode of bliss, the enemies who had despitefully used you but who, as your own religion teaches, were in truth only God's emissaries sent to punish you for your sins. It is the philosophy of 'kooch perwani' that teaches us to forget the dead past, do the work of the vital present, and by doing it aright build for the future an edifice of happiness and contentment. Had you followed that philosophy, O fakir, you might have been again to-day rich in the good things of the world."
The mendicant raised his face from the dust. "To which I reply, O prince,--kooch perwani. By the ordeals through which I have passed I have come to learn that the treasures of this world are of no account. Therefore is my philosophy to-day greater than your own. You wear costly robes, I the loin cloth of the beggar. Kooch perwani; for when death comes, we are equals. There is no pocket to a shroud."
VI. THE TIGER OF THE PATHANS
TOLD BY THE AFGHAN GENERAL
"In my case the philosophy of life is of the simplest," remarked the Afghan general. "I neither crave the wealth of the prince, nor do I inflict upon myself the mortifications of the ascetic. For the one rich robes and the sceptre, for the other a loin cloth and a begging-bowl; but for me the good sword that commands respect from my enemies, confidence from my friends, and my due share of the good things of existence. In this frame of mind I find the full measure of joy in each day that passes."
He smiled the smile of the man contented with the world and with himself, but there was the light of proud determination in his eyes that belied the mere sybarite.
"Then for you the greatest good consists in the happiness you can snatch from the passing hour," suggested the magistrate.
"That is so," concurred the soldier, "if to the word happiness you give the right interpretation. To me the performance of one's present duty is the only real thing that brings contentment. And duty need not always be stern and forbidding; to laugh and play and be merry may, at the proper time and in the proper circumstances, be a duty both to ourselves and to others. When one lives philosophically for the present, he takes men in all their moods and life in all its phases. The past is counted as dead and to be forgotten, except for the experience gained to guide the doing of the things that lie now to one's hand. The future is unseen, but is none the less determined by our deeds, words, and thoughts of the passing moment, each one of which, be it remembered, whether deed or rash word, or unspoken thought, has consequences that are eternal."
"So for the man whose mind is thus attuned," again interposed the magistrate, "the present becomes all supreme, shaped by the past, shaping the future."
"Which means that destiny never degenerates into mere blind and helpless fatalism," responded the Afghan. "To do the right now suffices to give absolute trust in God for the hereafter. That is the key of destiny, and each man holds it in his own keeping."
"A simple religion," smiled the Rajput.
"And therefore the best. It is the religion of Islam freed from all the controversies of rival sects and over-learned mullahs. It is the religion of my fathers and the religion of my youth, and in it I abide. Let me tell you a story of the rough school in which I received my early training and where such thoughts as these first began to sink deep into my mind.
* * * * *
"Have you ever heard of Shir Jumla Khan? No? Well, that is doubtless because he has been dead for a full score of years, and because he held his sway in a land remote from these plains of Hindustan, up in the rugged mountains, where brave tribesmen guard the valleys which their ancestors tilled, and yield allegiance to no one but their own hereditary chieftains. Such was my country and my people, for I am proud that in my veins runs the blood of the man who for a hundred miles around my boyhood home was known as The Tiger of the Pathans. Behold in me a grandson of Shir Jumla Khan."
The narrator folded his arms across his breast, in an attitude of quiet dignity. After just a moment's pause he continued:
"We were all born fighters, the members of my clan, for during hundreds of years many a swarming host had swept past the gateways of our territory, Persians, Arabs, Afghans, Moguls, Turkmans, hordes of fighting men of every race and tongue, sometimes marching south bent on conquest, at other times returning to their homes laden with rich spoils, and yet at other times defeated and broken, with enemies pressing at their heels. And it was the patrimonial right of our tribe to take toll from all alike, from victors and vanquished, from pursuers and pursued.
"Sometimes an army would pass through our mountains under safe conduct from all the tribes, and the price paid in money, horses, camels, and cattle, cloths and other goods, would be divided among the several clans. But in this practice there had grown to be more danger for ourselves than from forays or assaults on passing enemies, because over the division of the spoils there would be quarrelling, followed by fighting, among the tribes. Thus had originated many a blood feud enduring through many generations.
"In the early days of Shir Jumla Khan it had come about that several rich caravans had fallen exclusively into his hands. With the money thus provided by the bountifulness of Allah, he had been enabled to build for himself a citadel that for vastness and security surpassed those of all his rivals among the tribal chiefs. Within its wide walls were wells and water tanks, gardens for the growing of fruits and vegetables, warehouses for goods, granaries stored with barley, wheat, and dal, stables for a hundred horses, sheds for the housing of cattle, sheep, and camels, and dwelling places for a goodly multitude of armed men, their wives and their children. And all of these things endure until this day, for the fortress town amid the mountains built by my grandsire, The Tiger of the Pathans, has ever remained unconquered and unconquerable.
"But as Shir Jumla Khan grew rich in possessions and in power--for scores of fighting men from afar were attracted to his service--at the same time did his position among the tribesmen become one of increasing isolation. All feared him and envied him, and fear and envy have ever been breeders of hate. Yet was he a just and a benevolent man, honoured and beloved by every one within his domain, where his slightest word was gladly accepted law, not because of the might he wielded but because of his fairness to all men.
"I was yet a young man when a widely spread plot among the rival tribesmen to destroy Shir Jumla Khan's power had come to a head, and had resulted in a determined and prolonged attack upon his citadel. Numbers had told, our outlying fields had been devastated, our flocks and herds driven away, and crowded within the walls of the fortress were refugees from all the surrounding countryside. We had been cooped up through the summer, we had lost our annual crops, and without the usual replenishment granaries and warehouses were beginning to wear an empty look, with but sorry promise for the winter. But, calm and undismayed, his proud look and serene smile ever the same, Shir Jumla Khan continued to feed the hungry host within his gates and now absolutely dependent upon his protection.
"The coming of winter would mean for us some relief, for the first snows would scatter the beleaguering hosts, sending them back to their own valleys, and giving us the chance, in the intervals of the season's storms, to make a few forays on our own account on neighbouring communities, which, taken one at a time, would be pretty well at our mercy. But if we reasoned in this wise so did our enemies; for it was now toward the close of the month of August and redoubled efforts were being put forth to accomplish the breaching of our walls, so that The Tiger of the Pathans might be slain before there was the chance of his fangs and claws again becoming dangerous.
"The tribesmen, no doubt by capture and enforced service, had secured the help of some engineers versed in the methods of sieges and assaults on fortified places as practised in Hindustan. At that time I had never before seen a sabat, but now from our fortifications I beheld the gradual extension, day by day, of a broad covered way, with bull-hide roof stretched across the trench being dug, and effectually protecting the labourers below from our guns and muskets and catapults. We had made several sallies with a view to try and stop this work, but these had only resulted in losses on our side out of all proportion to the harassment and delay inflicted on the besiegers. So we could but impotently watch the subtle and inexorable approach of the skilled men who would eventually reach our walls, drive mines beneath them, and blow us to perdition.
"Our one chance lay in the question of time. If the winter began early we should be saved, but if the snows held off till late in the year it looked as if our doom must be sealed.
"But quite unexpectedly a ray of hope came from another quarter. Dissension had broken out in the ranks of our foes!
"The first word was brought to us by a deserter from the besiegers' camp, who one night had crept up to the gateway of the fort and whined for admittance, declaring that he had important news to tell and hoped for a reward.