Historical fiction; India -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Thugs (Indic criminal group) -- Fiction
He rubbed my neck with oil, and afterwards put upon it a warm plaster
of leaves, which relieved it greatly, and I felt easier for its
application. He remained with me; and some of the other men, sitting
down by us, began to sing and play to amuse me. I was given some milk
and rice to eat in the evening; but before it was time to sleep, Ismail
brought me some sherbet of sugar and water, which he said would make me
sleep. I suppose there was opium in it, for I remember nothing till the
next morning, when I found myself in his arms on horseback, and knew
that we were again travelling.
I pass over the journey, as I remember nothing of it, except that
Gunesha was no longer with us, which I was very glad of, for I hated
him, and could not bear his presence. Even in after-years, Sahib,
though we have been engaged together in Thuggee, I always bore a
deep-rooted aversion to him, which never changed to the last. Ismail
and seven men were all that remained of the band; and we proceeded, by
long and fatiguing marches, to a village in which he said he resided,
and where I was to be given up to the care of his wife. We arrived at
last, and I was introduced to a good-looking young woman as a child of
a relation, whom he had long ago adopted as a son, and had now brought
home to her: in fine, I was formally adopted by them as their own, and
my sufferings were speedily forgotten.
CHAPTER II.
I must have been at this time about five years old. It will strike you
perhaps as strange, Sahib, that I should remember so many particulars
of the event I have described; but when I was imprisoned some years
ago at Dehlie, I used to endeavour, in my solitude, to recollect and
arrange the past adventures of my life; one circumstance led me to
the remembrance of another--for in solitude, if the mind seeks the
occupation, it readily takes up the clue to past events, however
distant, and thought brings them one by one before the imagination as
vividly fresh as the occurrences of yesterday; and from an old Thug's
adventures, which I heard during that imprisonment, I found my memory
to serve me well. I was in possession of the whole of the facts, as I
have related them to you, and I have only perhaps supplied the minor
points from my own mind. I particularly recollect the scene with
Gunesha, which he has since related to me, and told me, that such was
his rage at the abuse I poured on him, that had it not been for the
dread of Ismail's vengeance, and of his power, he would have sacrificed
me in his fury. But to return to my story, if you are not tired of it.
No, indeed, said I; I am becoming more and more interested in it.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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