Historical fiction; India -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Thugs (Indic criminal group) -- Fiction
We passed the embankment of the tank. As yet we had seen nothing of
the city; but there was a ridge not far off, and as we ascended it I
could no longer control my impatience. I spurred my horse, and before I
reached the top shut my eyes, that whatever was before me might burst
upon my view at once. My horse slackened his pace when he reached
the top, and allowing him to go on a few steps I opened my eyes, and
glorious indeed was the prospect before me. Beneath lay Hyderabad, the
object of many a conjecture, of many an ardent desire to reach it--the
first city of the Dukhun, justly celebrated throughout the countries
I had passed. I had imagined it, like every other I had seen, to be
in the midst of a plain, and that all that would be visible of it
would be here and there a minaret rising out of large groves of trees:
but Hyderabad presented a different aspect. I stood on the crest of
a gentle slope, which to my right hand was broken at some distance
by rude, rocky hills, and to the left appeared gradually to descend
into a plain, which stretched away almost uninterruptedly to the
horizon. Before me, on the gentle rise of the valley, and beyond where
I supposed the river to be, lay the city, its white terraced houses
gleaming brightly in the sunlight from amidst what seemed to me at the
distance almost a forest of trees. The Char Minar and Mecca Musjid rose
proudly from the masses of buildings by which they were surrounded; and
here and there a white dome, with its bright gilt spire, marked the
tomb of some favourite or holy saint, while smaller mosques, I might
say in hundreds, were known by their slender white minarets.
Beyond the city rose another connected chain of rocky hills, which ran
along until they met those on the right hand, and shut in the valley
on that side. The city seemed to be of immense extent; but I thought
from the number of trees that it was composed principally of gardens
and inclosures, and was much surprised afterwards, when I entered it,
to find its streets so filled with houses, and the whole so thickly
peopled. It was altogether a most lovely scene: the freshness of the
morning, the pureness of the air, and the glittering effect of the city
and its buildings caused an impression which can never be effaced from
my memory. I have seen it since, and though it is ever truly beautiful,
it never struck me as it did that day. But I was then young, full of
spirits, and flushed with the consciousness of my own powers, just
developing, and assuring me that they would lead me to eminence.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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