CHAPTER LXXXIX.
"Well sung!" cried the young Khan cheerfully, and joining in thegeneral applause which followed a pretty Mahratta ballad which thehunchback and Ashruf had just sung, to the accompaniment of a luteplayed by the former and a small tenor drum by the latter--"well sung!Where did ye learn that?" he continued, advancing from the entrance tothe court where he had paused as he came out. "It is something new."
The men, who were seated or lounging about the entrance hall to thehouse, rose and saluted Fazil. It was evident at a glance to BulwuntRao that something had occurred to remove the sad expression which hislord's face had worn so long; for it had given place to one radiantwith joy, and he exclaimed cheerily,--
"Thanks be to the gods! it is gone at last, Meah! Never, since we rodetogether to Pertabgurh, have any of us seen a smile on your face thatwas worth looking at, or one which was not followed by a sigh, as muchas to regret it had ever been there; so I cry, with thanks to the gods,the grief is gone at last. What say you, brothers? look at him; did Ispeak truly?"
Amidst the hearty responses to this congratulation by his retainers,Fazil Khan sat down among them, and the hunchback and Ashruf, steppingforward, assumed the positions of professional ballad-singers, andsaluted him.
"Shall we sing it again, Meah?" asked Lukshmun; "you did not hear itall. 'Tis a fancy of my own, about a damsel waiting for her lover, whopasses her by with another, and so she goes and weeps."
"And we have all been crying over it, Meah," added Bulwunt Rao; "'tisso sad a tune too--so plaintive."
"But as I am not in a crying mood, friend," returned Fazil, laughing,"it would hardly suit me now, so another time--meanwhile there issomething to be done which is urgent."
"Are we to meet a new army, and take our revenge, Meah?" cried severalof the men. "Ah, we know the country now, and should not fall intoanother trap like the first."
"No, no, friends," said the young man sadly, "there is no suchgood news as that; 'tis but a private matter of my own, which ourballad-singers may help, perhaps."
"We, Meah?" exclaimed the hunchback; "thou well knowest, that if wewere bidden to leap into the flames for thee, we would not hesitate.Speak, that we may hear and do."
"It is somewhat private, friends," said the young man, looking around."If I might be alone with these and our old friend for a little, no onemay take offence; you will know all by-and-by."
"Surely not," cried several, rising and going out, followed by the rest.
"Stay, Bulwunt Rao," said Fazil, putting his hand on his arm, "yourcounsel may be of use;" and when they were alone, he continued, "Shewill not be content unless she sees her father and mother; and shedeclares they are at Wye, and came to her the day she was to be burned."
"Impossible!" cried Lukshmun; "they are dead, and this must be somedevice of the Evil One--of that old Mother on the hill there, who wantsto get her back; and she has sent spirits in their guise to mock her.She does such things very often, Meah Sahib, and I don't like to hearof this."
"Well, they must be substantial spirits," returned Fazil, laughing,"for she told us that she had heard them speak, and that she thoughther father had lifted her up once. They must be alive."
Lukshmun shook his head. "I did not see him, or hear of him, at Wye,"he said; "and as I know them well, I should have recognized him andhis wife anywhere. And, about the witches--if I were to tell you whatI know about the Mother's devices," he continued solemnly, wagging hishead, "I should not be believed. Nevertheless----"
"Nevertheless," said Fazil, interrupting him, "thou art to go andsee--thou and Ashruf. Wilt thou go, lad, if he is afraid of thewitches?"
"To the death," cried the boy cheerfully; while Lukshmun, leaping upinto the air, turned a somersault, and came down where he stood. "Go!"he said; "yes, Meah. I have a spell against the Mother and all sorcery,and his majesty the devil to boot, which Pahar Singh taught me. Whereare we to go, Meah, and when?"
"Now," replied Fazil; "take two of the ponies and ride straight to Wye.Her parents will be found in the house of Vishnu Pundit, or he willdirect you to them. If they are gone home, or to Poona, or anywhereelse, they must be followed up and brought back; and they will comewhen that ring is given to her mother--so she says."
"They may need money," said the man, musing. "Brahmuns never movewithout coin. Something for expenses, is the first thing they ask ofone. Is it not true? Nevertheless, Vyas Shastree is rich enough. O yes,he knows me, and I can get into Vishnu Pundit's house, too. Come, lad,we must put on the Byragee's dresses."
Ashruf followed him. While they were absent, Fazil wrote the letterthey were to take, which ran as follows:--
"_To the respectable and learned in the Veds and Shastras, Vyas Shastree, of Tooljapoor, who is kind to his friends;_
"_From Fazil, son of Afzool Khan, with greetings, and the peace and salutation of God; and after wishing you health and prosperity--_
"_You are to know that your daughter Tara is here, with my mother and sister, in honour and health; but she hath been ill unto death, and being, by God's favour, restored to life, wishes to see you and her mother urgently, and sends a token, by which you may be assured she is here._
"_You will learn more from the bearer, my servant, who is to be trusted; and I pray you to lose no time in setting out, for we await your coming. I have sent money for your expenses by him, which you are to be pleased to use freely._"
The hunchback and Ashruf reappeared after a while in their new costume,which was that of Jogies, or religious mendicants of that part of thecountry. Orange-coloured turbans and garments, purposely torn andragged, yet withal scrupulously clean; large strings of wooden beadsabout their necks, wrists, and ankles; black blankets, to keep out coldor heat, thrown over their shoulders after a graceful and picturesquefashion; and the lute and small drum they had used before. The facesof both were smeared with whiting, and the broad trident of Vishnuwas drawn in red and white paint upon their foreheads. The hunchbackwould perhaps have been known by his figure; but Ashruf, from thesmart Mussulman boy, gaily dressed as became his master's favouriteattendant, was utterly transformed, and could not possibly have beenrecognized.
"Shabash!" cried Bulwunt Rao and Fazil involuntarily; "it iscomplete--no one could know you."
"Except by this hunched back of mine," said Lukshmun, "I would wagerthat I went anywhere as anybody you please, Meah,--from the holiestSyud down to the lowest Kullunder--from the Secretary of Ramdas Swamihimself, to what I am now,--and was not discovered. Hindu or Mussulman,'tis all the same--only I must have a religious garb on, Meah Sahib:for my mind, you see, having that turn naturally, I am most at homein one. Did any one suspect us when we sang ballads in the ambush atJowly, and found out what Moro Trimmul wanted to do? or in Wye, when wesaw Tara? O Meah! this is a joyful errand, for I shall pay a rupee toa Brahmun, and get bathed in the river--just where they were going toburn Tara Bye--to wash away my sins, and be absolved from shedding aBrahmun's blood. The gods forgive me if I killed him!"
"I hope you did," returned Fazil, laughing: "and now, here is a purseof gold, tie it round you, and use what is needed; and here are theletters which are to be put into Vyas Shastree's own hand. If he cannotget mine read, this ring and her letter will be enough. If they aregone to Poona, or back to Tooljapoor, send Ashruf back to me, and go onthyself."
"To the top of Mount Meru, or the lowest deep of Nurruk," criedLukshmun, snapping his fingers. "Fear not; we will bring them,lad--won't we? and, master, if I have to go on, and can send thee aletter by a sure hand, may I take on my son here? I cannot sing balladswithout him."
"Ah yes, my lord!" pleaded the lad, joining his hands, "to bring themto her."
"Good," said Fazil; "I trust you both. Go, and be discreet, and God'sblessing and mine be with you."
"And now, my lord," said the hunchback, "let us sing one ballad beforewe depart--one that she must know well: it will give her hope. Go andtell her that some singers are here who know the ballads of the BalaGhaut, and will s
ing her one. She will recognize the tune, for I haveheard her father sing it, and they say he wrote it for her, for hername is in it. We shall sing it before Vishnu Pundit's door at Wye."
"As thou wilt," replied Fazil; "I will tell her;" and he arose and wentto the inner court door. "Do not follow me," he said to them--"she canhear from hence, and there are women within--it is private."
Fazil had watched Tara as the prelude began, and he beckoned her tothe door. "Come and listen," he said; "they are singers of your owncountry, and I have brought them to sing a ballad to you." She arose,and Zyna followed her.
The hunchback and Ashruf stood at the doorway without, and, after ashort prelude, sang, as nearly as we can translate it, as follows:--
1.
"Fast her tears fell--faster, faster, As the days pass slowly by, And her heart is sorely laden With the dreary, hopeless sigh. O that cruel, ceaseless sighing! Weary tears which sadly fell, All unheeded as she wept them Daily by the garden well.
2.
"Mother! Mother! oft she pleaded, Toolja Mata! hear my vow! Hear thy daughter's cry of sorrow-- Why shouldst thou forsake me now? Not less thine, O Mother holy! If my lover come to me; If he come, a golden necklace We, thy children, vow to thee!
3.
"As she went for water daily, Raised alone the pitcher still, She repeats the prayer and promise, As with tears her soft eyes fill! The goddess watched the weary maiden, And her daily burthen borne; 'Faithful,' she cries, 'in earthly sorrow, Daughter true, no longer mourn!'
4.
"Then next morn, with anklets tinkling, The maiden tripped, and ceased to sigh; As she stooped to raise the pitcher-- Light she felt it lifted high. And sweet words he whispers to her-- 'Tara, all thy sorrow past! Faith and hope have won thy lover.' And the vow?--'Twas paid at last."
It was one of those plaintive Mahratta airs, at once so musical andtender, and whose character is so original, as to deserve the rank ofnational music. How often Tara had heard it! Her father had writtenthe words, and composed the air, to amuse her when she used to be sad;but she had no lover--no one then to take the burden, to help to liftthe pitcher, which was so heavy! Ah yes! she remembered it well, andthat her father had said afterwards, it should not be sung in the housebecause it made her sadder, for there could be no lover.
So she listened, and the melody seemed to strike some new and tenderchords in her memory, which as yet had been untouched; and they lookedat her wonderingly, and in silence, as the features softened into asmile, and the eyes gradually filled with tears, which flowed as froma fountain within, and rolled silently down her cheeks. As the vow wasnamed, they saw her hand rise to her neck and unclasp the heavy goldnecklace she wore, and when the last words were sung she put it intoFazil's hands.
"Let the Mother have it," she said, "as our vow--she is not angry withme. You will not deny this, my lord, to Tara?"
Before they could answer her, a strange brightness seemed to come overher face and eyes, as she looked upward as if following a vision. "Itis enough," she said gently, after a silence which they did not break;"the Mother is not angry with me--it is accepted, and I am free; forwhen the trial came, she says, and Gunga called me, I did not leaveher."
They did not understand then, to what she alluded; but it was evidentthat the excited spirit had again wandered into the past, and hadreturned, more at peace than before.
"Yes," said Fazil, "as thou wilt, beloved--thy vow shall be truly paid,at last."
Tara: A Mahratta Tale Page 91
