by Mir Amman
‘Much as I tried to justify myself, he argued against me so well that I could not win. So I said, “Well, I accept what you say. I grant him his life but he will remain in prison. He shall be released if the truth of his story is proved within a year’s time, otherwise he shall be put to death.” I then ordered him to be put in prison. The ambassador respectfully bowed and took his seat.
‘When this sad news reached the vizier’s family, they all cried with grief. He had a fifteen-year-old daughter who was beautiful, intelligent and well-educated. The vizier was extremely fond of her. He had built her an elegant apartment near his own drawing room. She had the daughters of the nobles as her companions and fair female-servants were kept in attendance for her. The day the vizier was put to prison, she was celebrating the marriage of her doll and they were preparing for the festivities at night. She was making sweetmeats for the occasion when her mother, her hair dishevelled, ran into her apartment barefoot. She wept and cried and broke the sad news to her. She reproached her and said, “I would have been better pleased if God had blessed me with a blind son instead of you, for he would have stood by his father.” The daughter said, “What you think a blind son could do, I can do as well.” Her mother said, “Let your face be smeared with dust! Your father is in great trouble. The king has put him in prison because he said something which displeased him.” She said, “Let me know what it is.” Her mother replied, “Your father said that there is a merchant in Nishapur who has sewn twelve big rubies on his dog’s collar. The king did not believe it. He took him to be a liar and so put him in prison. If we had a son he would not have remained idle until he got his father freed.” The daughter said, “My dear mother, one cannot fight one’s fate. Man should be firm and steady in the face of a sudden calamity and have trust in God. He is most compassionate and never keeps one in trouble. It is not proper to weep and cry, lest our enemies should incite the king against us. We should instead pray for the king always, for we are his servants and he is our master. He is displeased with us at this moment; he will be kind too.” Thus the girl comforted her mother who then quietly left for her apartment.
‘At night the vizier’s daughter sent for her nurse’s husband. She fell at his feet and wept and said, “I want to get my father released and thus wipe off the insult my mother has cast on me. If you could accompany me to Nishapur I may find the merchant who has rubies on his dog’s collar, and do whatever I can to get my father released.” At first he was reluctant but she implored him much till he agreed. She said to him, “Make secret preparations for the journey. Buy some goods for trade and presents good enough for kings. Also have some slaves and servants but be careful that no one comes to know of my plan.” He carried out her orders and when everything was ready and the camels and mules were loaded, he set out. The vizier’s daughter joined him disguised as a man. The secret was well kept and the people in the house learnt of the disappearance only the next morning. Her mother was afraid of the censure and reproof of people and hence did not disclose the circumstance of her disappearance.
‘The vizier’s daughter now called herself the son of a merchant. Taking rest at several stops on their way they reached Nishapur. They stayed at the caravanserai with their merchandise. In the morning, after having her bath and putting on a rich dress as the men of Turkey did, the vizier’s daughter went out to have a stroll in the city. As she stood at a crossing in the main bazaar, she saw a jeweller’s shop. Many precious stones were displayed there for sale, and richly dressed servants stood ready to attend. A man of about fifty years of age, who was elegantly dressed and appeared to be their master, was sitting there and talking to his companions who were also richly dressed like him. It occurred to her that he might be the merchant her father had spoken of to the king. She was pleased to think so and said to herself, “Would that my presumption is right! O my God, if only I could know more about this man!” As she looked around she saw two men in iron cages suspended in an adjacent shop. Both the men were pining away like the legendary Majnun; only their skin and bones remained. Their hair and nails were quite overgrown and they sat with their heads drooping to their breasts. Two ugly armed negroes stood as guards on either side of the two cages. The vizier’s daughter was surprised at this and exclaimed to herself, “God alone is the Rescuer!” When she looked around the street she saw another shop where a dog was sitting on a velvet cushion on on ivory stool. It was chained by a chain of gold and its collar was set with precious stones. Two young handsome servants tended the dog. One of them had a fly-flap of peacock feathers with a handle covered with jewels, and the other had an embroidered napkin to wipe the dog’s mouth and feet. The vizier’s daughter looked at the dog more carefully and found that its collar really did have twelve rubies as she had heard. She praised God and wondered how she could take the dog with its collar of rubies and show it to the king and get her father released.
‘As she stood there thinking of some such plan, the people around wondered at her beauty. They gazed at her and said to each other, “We have never seen such a beauty in this city.” When the Khwaja, the jeweller, saw the young merchant (the vizier’s daughter), he sent his servant to invite him to his shop. The servant went up to him. He delivered his master’s message and said, “Please, be kind enough to favour us with a visit. Our master wishes to welcome you.” As she herself wished it, she agreed. When she came nearer and the Khwaja saw him properly, he felt as if the spear of love had pierced his heart. He stood up to welcome him and just kept standing there stupidly, completely enamoured of his beauty. The vizier’s daughter knew at once that he was caught in her charms. They embraced each other. The Khwaja, as he took her to be a merchant’s son, kissed her forehead and offered her a seat next to his. With great interest he asked his name, about his family and country and where he was going. She replied, “This humble one is from Turkey. Istanbul is my native place. My father is a merchant. Now that he has grown old, he cannot undertake long journeys. He has, therefore, sent me to gain experience in commerce and trade. I have never been out of my country before. As it is my first journey, I did not travel by ship. I came by road. I had heard so much of your good name in the whole of Persia and I wished to have the honour of meeting you. Now that by the grace of God I have the honour, I find your good qualities to be much more than what they say. May God bless you! I will now proceed on my journey.” On hearing these last words the Khwaja almost lost his senses and said, “Please don’t, don’t give me such a bad news, my son. Stay with me for a few days. Pray tell me where is your baggage? Where are your goods and your servants?” The vizier’s daughter said, “A traveller’s lodge is a caravanserai. Leaving my goods there I came to you.” The Khwaja said, “It isn’t right that a person like you who has come to see me should stay in a serai. I am quite well-known in the city, as you know. Please send quickly for your luggage. Let me also see the merchandise you have brought. I will so manage that you get the maximum profit. You shall thus save yourself the trouble of travelling further. You will also do me a favour if you stay here with me for a few days more.” The vizier’s daughter demurred but the Khwaja would accept no excuse. He asked one of his servants to send some conveyance quickly to the caravanserai to bring the goods. The vizier’s daughter also sent a negro servant of her own with him while she herself remained there with the Khwaja until evening.
‘After business hours, when the shop was closed, the Khwaja left for his house. One of the servants took the dog under his arm; the other took its ivory stool and velvet cushion. The armed negro guards placed the two cages on the porters’ heads and went with them. Hand in hand and talking to her the Khwaja took the vizier’s daughter to his house. She found it was a palatial house like that of kings and nobles, with carpets spread on the banks of a canal and articles of entrainment arranged before the main seat. The dog’s stool was placed there. The Khwaja got the vizier’s daughter seated by him. He entertained her with wine. When both of them got slightly intoxicated, the Khwaja called for dinne
r. The table was laid and delectable delicacies were served. First of all some meat in a dish covered with a golden cloth was taken to the dog. A cloth woven with golden threads was spread for it. The dog descended from its stool and ate as much as it liked. It drank water from a golden bowl and went back to its stool. The servants wiped its mouth and feet with napkins and carried that dish and bowl to the two cages. Taking the keys from the Khwaja and unlocking the cages they took the two men out, beat them with sticks and made them eat and drink the leftovers of the dog. Then they locked them up again in the cages and gave the keys to the Khwaja.
‘After all this, the Khwaja began to take his meals. The vizier’s daughter, displeased as she was to see all that, did not touch any dish. However much the Khwaja pressed her, she refrained. He, therefore, asked him, “Well, what is it? Why do you refrain?” She said, “Frankly, all that I have seen here is quite disgusting. Man is the crown of creation and a dog the most impure creature. Which religion would allow forcing any man to eat the leftovers of a dog? They are already your prisoners. Isn’t that enough? Otherwise, as men, you and they are equal. You are not a Muslim, I presume. I don’t know what you are. You seem to be a dog-worshipper to me. As such it is disgusting for me to be at your table unless you satisfy my curiosity.” The Khwaja said, “I know what you mean. The citizens too condemn me and call me a dog-worshipper. But curse be on the impious and the infidels.” He then recited the Mohammadan creed aloud. Thus was the vizier’s daughter satisfied and said, “Well, then, if you are a Muslim, why do you do all this and stand condemned in the eyes of others?” The Khwaja said, “Yes, they condemn me. I pay double taxes as a fine for it too. But I don’t want anyone to know the real cause of all this. It is really so strange and sad a story that one will get nothing but grief and indignation on hearing it. You also kindly excuse me for I do not have the power to tell nor will you have the heart to endure it.” The vizier’s daughter said to herself, “Why bother to press him! I should mind my own business.” To him she said, “Well, if it is so, do not tell it.” Then she had her dinner with the Khwaja.
‘Two months passed and the vizier’s daughter so cleverly acted a merchant’s son that no one could tell she was really a girl. The Khwaja’s affection for him grew day by day. Not for a moment would he like him to be out of his sight. One day when they were having their drinks, the vizier’s daughter suddenly broke into tears. The Khwaja comforted him and wiping off his tears asked why he wept so. She said, “Sir, how shall I tell it? It would have been better for me if I had not met you and you had not been so good and kind to me. I face two difficulties now. Neither do I want to leave you nor can I stay here any longer. I must now depart but I feel there is little hope of my life after I leave you.” The Khwaja wept bitterly to hear these words. He controlled himself and said, “You are the light of my eyes! Are you so soon wearied of me that you are thinking of leaving me sad and afflicted? Please discard this idea and stay with me as long as I live. I shall not be able to live without you; know it that in your absence I shall die even before I am claimed by death. You know the climate of this place is so good and congenial to health. Better if through a trustworthy servant you send for your parents and all their property. I shall stand for it. When your parents are settled here you will carry on your business and be completely satisfied. I have been through the thick and thin of life and I have myself been to many countries; but I have grown old now and have no issue. I hold you dearer to me than a son. I hereby make you my heir and the master of all my property. Take charge of all my business affairs. Only give me a little to sustain my life as long as I live. When I die, bury me and have all my wealth.” The vizier’s daughter replied, “You have really been more than a father to me. Your love and affection have, in fact, made me forget my parents. But my father gave me a year’s leave. If I take longer to return he might kill himself with grief. You know a father’s approbation is dear to God. If he gets displeased with me and, God forbid, curses me, I will be deprived of the grace of God in this world and the next. Now it will be most kind of you to permit me to leave and carry out my father’s command and thus fulfil my duties as a son. If I safely reach my country I shall always remember your kindness and feel grateful as long as I live. God is the Causer of causes; maybe I am so fortunate that I will come back to kiss your feet.”
‘In short, the vizier’s daughter so artfully entreated the Khwaja that he had to agree. As he had become so fond of her he said, “Well, if you can’t stay here any longer, I will accompany you. I hold you as dear to me as the soul of my life; What use is the body without the soul? If you are so determined, take me also with you.” Thus he also made preparations for the journey. He ordered his servants to arrange quickly for conveyance. When the news of the Khwaja’s departure spread, other merchants of the city also decided to set out with him. Khwaja, the dog-worshipper, took with him his many servants, all his jewellery and other property and pitched his tents outside the city and camped there in a grand way. Other merchants also joined him with their merchandise as a result of which it became quite a big camp. Ascertaining the auspicious hour they set out on their journey. The merchandise was loaded on thousands of camels and the jewellery and cash on mules. Five hundred armed Tartar, African and Turkish slaves, mounted on well-bred horses, went along as guards. The Khwaja and the vizier’s daughter (still disguised as a young merchant) were in the rear. They were richly dressed and mounted on sedans. The dog was comfortably seated on a low velvet-cushioned table in a rich litter on the back of a camel. At every stage of the journey all the merchants came to the Khwaja and ate and drank with him. The Khwaja praised God for the happiness of being with the young merchant. And thus did they proceed.
‘They reached Constantinople and camped outside the city. The vizier’s daughter said to the Khwaja, “Sir, if you so please, grant me permission to go and see my parents and arrange for your stay.” The Khwaja said, “I am here for your sake alone. You may go and see your parents and arrange for my stay near your own place. But please come soon.” The vizier’s daughter went to her house. All those in the vizier’s palace were surprised to see a young man enter the house. The vizier’s daughter ran up to her mother and threw herself at her feet. She wept and said, “It is your daughter, my dear mother.” The vizier’s wife began to reproach her and said, “You vile girl, you proved to be very artful. You disgraced yourself and brought a bad name to the family. We wept for you and comforted ourselves thinking you were dead. Now go away from my sight.” The daughter threw the turban off her head and said, “My dear mother, I have not been to any improper place. Nor have I done anything wrong. Whatever I have done, I did to fulfil your wish and get my father released from prison. God be praised! Through His kindness and your good wishes I have accomplished my task and brought the merchant of Nishapur with me and also his dog which has those rubies in its collar. I have not lost the innocence you bestowed on me. I disguised myself as a man simply to make this journey. Only a day’s work remains more after which I shall get my father released and come back to live here with you. If you grant me leave I may go for one day and then come back to you.”
‘When her mother was convinced that her daughter had done the job of a man and had preserved herself well, she humbly praised God the Almighty. She embraced her with joy and kissed her. She gave her leave to go and said, “Do now what you think best. I have now full confidence in you.”
The vizier’s daughter again disguised herself as a man and left to meet Khwaja the dog-worshipper. The Khwaja, meanwhile, impatient to see her, had left the camp and was proceeding towards the city. As the vizier’s daughter was coming to the Khwajā and he was going to meet him, they crossed each other. Seeing him the Khwaja exclaimed, “Where had you gone leaving this old man all by himself, my son?” She said, “With your permission I had gone to my house but the desire to be with you did not let me stay there. So I have come back to you.” They then camped in a garden on the banks of the river near the city gate. The Kh
waja and the vizier’s daughter sat down together and ate and drank. In the afternoon while they were relaxing, a royal guard happened to pass that way. He was surprised to see the huge camp. Thinking that it was some foreign dignitary who had arrived, he stood there and amused himself. The Khwaja’s attendants asked him who he was. He told them that he was the chief chasseur of the king. They informed the Khwaja about him. The Khwaja asked a negro servant to go and tell him they were travellers and to convey that if he so wished he might come and have some coffee and smoke a pipe with them. The chasseur was puzzled to learn the name of the merchant. The Khwaja’s servant escorted him to the camp and he found it all quite magnificent there with so many slaves and attendants and guards. He bowed low to the Khwaja and the young merchant. He was all the more puzzled to see a dog so highly treated there. The Khwaja offered him a seat and some coffee after which the royal chasseur begged leave. The Khwaja gave him many presents and a few rolls of fine cloth and saw him off.
‘When he attended my court the next day, the chasseur mentioned the Khwaja and the young merchant. When I asked him more about them he related to me all that he had seen. I was quite displeased to learn of the stately treatment given to a dog and the confinement of two men in cages. I decided that such a man deserved to be killed. I ordered some of my men to go there immediately, cut off his head and bring it to me. The same Ambassador of Farang happened to be present at the moment in the court. He smiled at my orders. I was all the more filled with anger and said, “You ill-mannered man, don’t you know it is highly disrespectful to grin and show your teeth in the presence of a king. It is better to weep than to laugh without reason.” With respect he said, “Your Majesty, many thoughts came to my mind and made me smile. The first was that the vizier had spoken the truth and now he will be released from prison. Second, Your Majesty has been saved from shedding innocent blood. Third, it occurred to me that Your Majesty ordered the merchant to be put to death without arty fault. And it surprised me much that without finding out the truth or otherwise, Your Majesty should order to kill a person when someone only tells you a strange tale about him. God knows what the truth is about the merchant. Better call him here and ask him his true story. And then if he is found guilty he may be punished as Your Majesty may please.”
