Historical fiction; India -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Thugs (Indic criminal group) -- Fiction
One by one the various groups returned towards their homes, looking
wearied and exhausted; for the excitement which had kept them up for
so many days and nights was gone. In many a shady corner might be seen
lying fast asleep, an exhausted wretch, his finery still hanging about
him, his last cowree perhaps expended in a copious dose of bhung,
which, having done part of its work in exciting him almost to madness
during the preceding night, had left him with a racking brain, and had
finally sent him into oblivion of his fatigue and hunger. The Mohorum
was ended: we stayed on the bridge till the time for evening prayer,
when, repairing to an adjacent mosque, we offered up our devotions with
the others of the faithful who were there assembled. This done, I told
my father I should again visit Zora, and most likely remain at her
house all night: he bid me be sure to return early in the morning, on
account of our business; and having promised this, I departed.
I rode slowly through the now silent and almost deserted streets: the
few persons whom I met were hurrying along to their homes, and had no
common feeling or interest with each other as before. I passed along
the now well-known track, and was soon at the house which held all
that was most dear to me on earth. I sent up my name and dismounted; I
expected the usual summons, and that I should see that countenance I
longed to behold welcoming me from the window. I waited longer than I
could 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 thoughts by addressing me. "Her mother,
whom I have seen," said he, "bid me give you her salam, and tell you
that her daughter is particularly engaged and cannot receive you. I
ventured to remonstrate, but the old woman became angry, and told me
that she had behaved civilly to you, and that you could not expect
more; and further, she said, 'Tell him from me that he had better act
the part of a wise man, and forget Zora, for never again shall he see
her; it will be in vain that he searches for her, for she will be
beyond his reach; and I would rather that she died, than become the
associate 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 her
in some jungle to starve. Go and tell him this, and say that if he is a
wise man, he will forget her.'"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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