CHAPTER XV.
Zenat's exclamation drew us to the window. "Quick!" she said; "lookout, or you will lose the sight; they are even now passing the CharMinar." We did look out, and the sight was indeed magnificent. A crowdof some hundreds of people were escorting a Punjah, that holy symbol ofour faith; most of them were armed, and their naked weapons gleamedbrightly in the light of numberless torches which were elevated onlofty bamboos; others bore aftab-geers, made of silver and gold tinsel,with deep fringes of the same, which glittered and sparkled as theywere waved to and fro by the movements of those who carried them. Butthe object the most striking of all was the Char Minar itself, as theprocession passed under it; the light of the torches illuminated itfrom top to bottom, and my gaze was riveted, as though it had suddenlyand startlingly sprung into existence.
The procession passed on, and all once more relapsed into gloom: theChar Minar was no longer visible to the eye, dazzled as it had beenby the lights; but as it became more accustomed to the darkness, thebuilding gradually revealed itself, dim and shadowy, its huge whitesurface looking like a spectre, or, I could fancy, like one of themysterious inhabitants of the air whom, we are told, Suleeman-ibn-Daoodand other sages had under their command, and were thus enabled todescribe. Again, as we gazed, another procession would pass, and asudden flash as of lightning would cause the same effect; interior andexterior of the edifice were as bright, far brighter they seemed, thanat noonday. I was enraptured. Zenat had left us to ourselves, and wesat, my arm around my beloved, while she nestled close to me, and wemurmured to each other those vows of love which hearts like ours couldalone frame and give utterance to. Long did we sit thus--Sahib, I knownot how long--the hours fled like moments.
"Look!" cried Zora, "look at that mighty gathering in the street belowus; they are now lighting the torches, and the procession of the NalSahib will presently come forth." I had not observed it, though I hadheard the hum of voices; the gloom of the street had hitherto preventedmy distinguishing anything; but as torch after torch was lighted andraised aloft on immense poles, the sea of human heads revealed itself.There were thousands. The street was so packed from side to side, thatto move was impossible; the mass was closely wedged together, and wewaited impatiently for the time when it should be put in motion, tomake the tour of the city.
One by one the processions we had seen pass before us rangedthemselves in front, and as they joined together, who can describe thesplendour of the effect of the thousands of torches, the thousands ofaftab-geers, of flags and pennons of all descriptions, the hundredsof elephants, gaily caparisoned, bearing on their backs their nobleowners, clad in the richest apparel, attended by their armed retainersand spearmen, some stationary, others moving to and fro, amidst thevast mass of human beings! One elephant in particular I remarked,--anoble animal, bearing a large silver umbara in which sat four boys,doubtless the sons of some nobleman from the number of attendants whichsurrounded them. The animal was evidently much excited, whether by thenoise, the lights, and the crowd, or whether he was _must_, I cannotsay; but the Mahout seemed to have great difficulty in keeping himquiet, and often dug his ankoos into the brute's head with great force,which made him lift his trunk into the air and bellow with pain. I sawthe Mahout was enraged, and, from the gestures of some of the personsnear, could guess that they were advising him to be gentle; but theanimal became more restive, and I feared there would be some accident,as the Mahout only punished him the more severely. At last, by someunlucky chance, the blazing part of a torch fell from the pole uponwhich it was raised on the elephant's back; he screamed out with thesudden pain, and raising his trunk, rushed into the crowd.
Ya Alla what a sight it was! Hundreds, as they vainly endeavoured toget out of the way, only wedged themselves closer together, shrieksand screams rent the air; but the most fearful sight was, when themaddened beast, unable to make his way through the press, seized onan unfortunate wretch by the waist with his trunk, and whirling himhigh in the air dashed him against the ground, and then kneeling downcrushed him to a mummy with his tusks. Involuntarily I turned awaymy head; the sight was sickening, and it was just under me. When Ilooked again, the brute, apparently satisfied, was standing quiet, andimmediately afterwards was driven away; the body of the unfortunateman was carried off and deposited in a neighbouring shop; and all againbecame quiet.
All at once the multitude broke out into deafening shouts of "Hassan!Hoosein! Deen! Deen!" the hoarse roar of which was mingled withthe beating of immense nagaras. The sound was deafening, yet mostimpressive. The multitude became agitated; every face was at onceturned towards the portal from which the sacred relic was about toissue, and it came forth in another instant amidst the sudden blaze ofa thousand blue lights. I turned my eye to the Char Minar. If it hadlooked brilliant by the torch-light, how much more so did it now! Thepale sulphureous glare caused its white surface to glitter like silver;high in the air the white minarets gleamed with intense brightness;and, as it stood out against the deep blue of the sky, it seemed tobe a sudden creation of the genii--so grand, so unearthly,--while thenumberless torches, overpowered by the superior brightness of thefireworks, gave a dim and lurid light through their smoke, which, asthere was not a breath of wind, hung over them.
All at once a numberless flight of rockets from the top of the CharMinar sprung hissing into the sky, and at an immense height, far abovethe tops of the minarets, burst almost simultaneously, and descendedin a shower of brilliant blue balls. There was a breathless silencefor a moment, as every eye was upturned to watch their descent, forthe effect was overpowering. But again the shouts arose, the multitudeswayed to and fro like the waves of a troubled sea; every one turnedtowards the Char Minar, and in a few instants the living mass was inmotion. It moved slowly at first, but the pressure from behind was sogreat that those in front were obliged to run; gradually, however,the mighty tide flowed along at a more measured pace, and it seemedendless. Host after host poured through the narrow street; men of allcountries, most of them bearing naked weapons which flashed in thetorch-light, were ranged in ranks, shouting the cries of the faith:others in the garbs of Fakeers chanted wild hymns of the death of theblessed martyrs; others again in fantastic dresses formed themselvesinto groups, and, as they ran rather than walked along, performedstrange and uncouth antics; some were painted from head to foot withdifferent colours; others had hung bells to their ancles, shoulders,and elbows, which jingled as they walked or danced; here and therewould be seen a man painted like a tiger, a rope passed round hiswaist, which was held by three or four others, while the tiger madedesperate leaps and charges into the crowd, which were received withshouts of merriment.
Some, again, were dressed in sheepskins, to imitate bears; otherswere monkeys, with enormous tails, and they grinned and mowed at thecrowd which surrounded them. Now, some nobleman would scatter from hiselephant showers of pice or cowrees among the crowd below him; andit was fearful, though amusing, to watch the eager scramble and thedesperate exertions of those undermost to extricate themselves,--notunattended by severe bruises and hurts. Bodies of Arabs, singing theirwild war-songs, firing their matchlocks in the air, and flourishingtheir naked swords and jumbeas, joined the throng, and immediatelypreceded the holy relic, which at last came up. It was carried on acushion of cloth of gold, covered by a small canopy of silver tissue;the canopy and its deep silver fringes glittering in the blaze ofinnumerable torches. Moolas, dressed in long robes, walked slowlybefore, singing the Moonakib and the Murceas. Men waved enormouschourees of the feathers of peacocks' tails; incense burned on theplatform of the canopy, and sent up its fragrant cloud of smoke; andhandfuls of the sweet ubeer were showered upon the cushion by all whocould by any means or exertions get near enough to reach it.
Gradually and slowly the whole passed by. Who can describe itsmagnificence? Such a scene must be seen to be felt! I say _felt_,Sahib, for who could see a mighty multitude like that, collected for aholy purpose with one heart, one soul, without emotion? Hours we satthere gazing on
the spectacle; we scarcely spoke, so absorbed were weby the interest of the scene below us. At length, however, the wholehad passed, and the street was left to loneliness and darkness; the fewforms which flitted along here and there looked more like the restlessspirits of a burial-ground than human beings; and the silence was onlynow and then broken by a solitary Fakeer, his bells tinkling as hehurried along to join the great procession, the roar of which was heardfar and faintly in the distance.
Just as we were about to retire, a number of men formed themselves intoa circle around a pit in which were a few lighted embers; but somebundles of grass were thrown on them--the light blazed up, and, drawingtheir swords, they danced round and round the fire, waving theirweapons, while all shouted aloud in hoarse voices the names of theblessed martyrs. The blazing fire in the centre lighted up their wildforms and gestures as they danced, tossing their arms wildly in theair. Now they stood still and swayed to and fro, while the fire diedaway and they were scarcely perceptible. Again more fuel was thrown on,the red blaze sprung up far above their heads, and their wild round wasrenewed with fresh spirit.
The night was now far spent, and the chill breeze which arose warned usto retire. Indeed Zenat and her mother had done so long before, and wewere left to ourselves. Sahib, that was the last night I passed with mybeloved, and the whole of our intercourse remains on my memory like theimpression of a pleasing dream, on which I delight often to dwell, toconjure up the scenes and conversations of years past and gone--yearsof wild adventure, of trial, of sorrow, and of crime.
I can picture to myself my Zora as I parted from her on the followingmorning; I can again hear her protestations of unalterable love, herentreaties that I would soon return to her; and above all I rememberher surpassing loveliness, and the look of anguish, I might call it,with which she followed me as I left her, after one long, passionateembrace. These impressions, I say, still linger on a mind which hasbeen rendered callous by crime, by an habitual system of deception,and by my rude intercourse with the world--my deadliest enemy; andthey are refreshing and soothing, because I have no wrong toward herto charge myself with. I rescued her; she loved me, and I loved hertoo; we wanted nought but a longer intercourse to have strengthenedthat affection, which would have lasted till death. But why should Italk thus? Why should I, a convicted felon and murderer, linger on thedescription of such scenes and thoughts? Sahib, I have done with them;I will tell you of sterner things--of the further adventures of my life.
I returned to my father; he was not angry at my absence; and Ifound Mohun Das, the Dullal, closeted with him, and also anothersahoukar-looking person. Mohun Das had been eminently successful; thesahoukar I saw was the assistant in a wealthy house who had need of allour goods, and he was come to see them before the bargain was finallyclosed. They were displayed to him, both goods and jewels; he approvedof all, said he would return shortly with an offer for them, and havingmade a list of the whole he departed.
"Now," said Mohun Das, "about the price; what do you ask?"
"You know better than I do," said my father, "therefore do you speak;and remember, the more they sell for the more you get."
"I have not forgotten your munificence," said the Dullal; "and I say atonce the cloths are worth sixteen, and the jewels ten thousand rupees;but you must ask thirty thousand,--you will get twenty-five I dare say."
"It is too little," said my father; "they cost me nearly that sum; andhow am I to pay my guards if I get no profit? I shall ask thirty-fivefor the whole."
"Well," said the Dullal, "if you do, so much the better for me; butmark what I say, you will get no more than my valuation; however, ifyou will trust me, and leave it to my judgment, I will get a fairprice."
"I will; but recollect, twenty-five thousand is the least."
"Certainly," said the Dullal; "I go to do your bidding."
"Go," said my father; "Alla Hafiz! be sure you return quickly."
It was noon before he returned, but it was with a joyful face when hedid come. After many profound salams, he exclaimed to my father, "Youhave indeed been fortunate; your good destiny has gained you a goodbargain. I have got thirty thousand six hundred rupees for the whole.We had a long fight about it, and wasted much breath; but, blessed beNarayun! your slave has been successful,--see, here is the Sahoukar'sacknowledgment."
My father took it and pretended to read; I was near laughing outrightat his gravity as he took the paper and pored over the crabbed Hindeecharacters, of which he did not understand one,--nor indeed any other;for he could neither read nor write. "Yes," said he, gravely, "it issatisfactory. Now, how am I to be paid?"
"The Sahoukar will arrange that with you in any way you please," saidthe Dullal; "ready money or bills are equally at your service; but asall transactions are generally at six months' credit, the interest forthat time, at the usual rate, will be deducted."
"And if I take bills, I suppose the interest will be allowed till Ireach Benares, or whatever place I may take them upon?"
"Certainly."
"Good," continued my father; "do you attend here with the Sahoukar,and we will settle all about it, and he can take away the merchandizewhenever he pleases." So the Dullal departed.
It was now about the time when the tazeas were to be brought to theedge of the river to be thrown into the water; and, as the Karwan wasnot far from the spot, I proposed to my father to send for our horsesand ride thither to see the sight. He agreed; the horses were quicklybrought, and we rode to the bridge over which the road passes into thecity. Taking our stand upon it, we beheld beneath us the various andmotley groups in the bed of the river; there were thousands assembled;the banks of the river and the bed were full,--so full, it seemed as ifyou might have walked upon the heads of the multitude. The aftab-geers,and the tinsel of the various tazeas, glittered in the afternoonsun,--the endless variety of colours of the dresses had a cheerful andgay effect; and, though it was nothing to the grand appearance of theprocession at night, still it was worth looking at. The tazeas werebrought one by one by the various tribes or neighbourhoods to whichthey belonged, and thrown into the pools in the bed of the river, fordeep water there was none, but there was sufficient for the purpose;and as each glittering fabric was cast in, it was assailed by hundredsof little ragged urchins, who quickly tore the whole to pieces for thesake of the ornaments; and there was many a warm contest and scrambleover these remains, which excited the laughter of the bystanders.
One by one the various groups returned towards their homes, lookingwearied and exhausted; for the excitement which had kept them up forso many days and nights was gone. In many a shady corner might be seenlying fast asleep, an exhausted wretch, his finery still hanging abouthim, his last cowree perhaps expended in a copious dose of bhung,which, having done part of its work in exciting him almost to madnessduring the preceding night, had left him with a racking brain, and hadfinally sent him into oblivion of his fatigue and hunger. The Mohorumwas ended: we stayed on the bridge till the time for evening prayer,when, repairing to an adjacent mosque, we offered up our devotions withthe others of the faithful who were there assembled. This done, I toldmy father I should again visit Zora, and most likely remain at herhouse all night: he bid me be sure to return early in the morning, onaccount of our business; and having promised this, I departed.
I rode slowly through the now silent and almost deserted streets: thefew persons whom I met were hurrying along to their homes, and had nocommon feeling or interest with each other as before. I passed alongthe now well-known track, and was soon at the house which held allthat was most dear to me on earth. I sent up my name and dismounted; Iexpected the usual summons, and that I should see that countenance Ilonged to behold welcoming me from the window. I waited longer than Icould assign a cause for in my own mind; at last my attendant returned,and as he quitted the threshold the door was rudely shut after him,while at the same time the casements of the windows were both shut.What was I to think of this? Alas! my forebodings were but too just.My attendant broke in upon my th
oughts by addressing me. "Her mother,whom I have seen," said he, "bid me give you her salam, and tell youthat her daughter is particularly engaged and cannot receive you. Iventured to remonstrate, but the old woman became angry, and told methat she had behaved civilly to you, and that you could not expectmore; and further, she said, 'Tell him from me that he had better actthe part of a wise man, and forget Zora, for never again shall he seeher; it will be in vain that he searches for her, for she will bebeyond his reach; and I would rather that she died, than become theassociate and partner of an adventurer like him; who, for all I know,might inveigle her from home, and, when he was tired of her, leave herin some jungle to starve. Go and tell him this, and say that if he is awise man, he will forget her.'"
"And was this all?" exclaimed I in a fury; "was this all the hag said?I will see whether I cannot effect an entrance;" and I rushed at thedoor with all my might. In vain I pushed and battered it with the hiltof my sword, it was too securely fastened within to give way. I calledout Zora's name--I raved--I threatened as loud as I could to destroymyself at the door, and that my blood would be upon the head of thatcruel old woman. It was all in vain, not a bolt stirred, not a shuttermoved, and I sat down in very despair. A few persons had collected,observing my wild demeanour, and as I looked up from my knees, where myface had been hidden, one of them said, "Poor youth! it is a pity hislove has been unkind and will not admit him."
"Pooh!" said another, "he is drunk with bhung; Alla knows whether weare safe so near him!--he has arms in his hands; we ought to get outof his way: your drunken persons are ticklish people to deal with, letalone their being a scandal to the faith."
I was ashamed; shame for once conquered anger. I walked towards myhorse, and mounting him, rode slowly from the place. How desolateeverything appeared! The night before, I had reached the summit ofhappiness. I cast one look to the window where I had sat in sweetconverse with her whom I was destined no more to behold; I thought onher words, and the glittering scene was again before me. Now all wasdark and silent, and accorded well with my feelings. I rode home inthis mood, and throwing myself down on my carpet, gave myself up to thebitterness of my feelings and unavailing regret. A thousand schemes Irevolved in my mind for the recovery of Zora during that night, for Islept not. One by one I dismissed them as cheating me with vain hopes,only to be succeeded by others equally vague and unsatisfactory. I rosein the morning feverish and unrefreshed, having determined on nothing.There was only one hope, that of the old woman the nurse; if I couldbut speak with her, I thought I should be able to effect something, andas soon as I could summon one of the men who had attended Zora, I senthim for information.
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