Historical fiction; India -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Thugs (Indic criminal group) -- Fiction
All at once the multitude broke out into deafening shouts of "Hassan!
Hoosein! Deen! Deen!" the hoarse roar of which was mingled with
the beating of immense nagaras. The sound was deafening, yet most
impressive. The multitude became agitated; every face was at once
turned towards the portal from which the sacred relic was about to
issue, and it came forth in another instant amidst the sudden blaze of
a thousand blue lights. I turned my eye to the Char Minar. If it had
looked brilliant by the torch-light, how much more so did it now! The
pale 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 to
be a sudden creation of the genii--so grand, so unearthly,--while the
numberless torches, overpowered by the superior brightness of the
fireworks, gave a dim and lurid light through their smoke, which, as
there was not a breath of wind, hung over them.
All at once a numberless flight of rockets from the top of the Char
Minar sprung hissing into the sky, and at an immense height, far above
the tops of the minarets, burst almost simultaneously, and descended
in a shower of brilliant blue balls. There was a breathless silence
for a moment, as every eye was upturned to watch their descent, for
the effect was overpowering. But again the shouts arose, the multitude
swayed to and fro like the waves of a troubled sea; every one turned
towards the Char Minar, and in a few instants the living mass was in
motion. It moved slowly at first, but the pressure from behind was so
great that those in front were obliged to run; gradually, however,
the mighty tide flowed along at a more measured pace, and it seemed
endless. Host after host poured through the narrow street; men of all
countries, most of them bearing naked weapons which flashed in the
torch-light, were ranged in ranks, shouting the cries of the faith:
others in the garbs of Fakeers chanted wild hymns of the death of the
blessed martyrs; others again in fantastic dresses formed themselves
into groups, and, as they ran rather than walked along, performed
strange and uncouth antics; some were painted from head to foot with
different colours; others had hung bells to their ancles, shoulders,
and elbows, which jingled as they walked or danced; here and there
would be seen a man painted like a tiger, a rope passed round his
waist, which was held by three or four others, while the tiger made
desperate leaps and charges into the crowd, which were received with
shouts of merriment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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