Historical fiction; India -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Thugs (Indic criminal group) -- Fiction
I pass over the next four or five years of my life, as I can remember
no incident in them worth relating. Ismail, soon after the death of
his wife, removed from the village where he had hitherto resided, and
took up his abode in the town of Murnae, which was then in Sindia's
possession, and I was put to school with an old man, who taught me to
read and write Persian. As I grew older, I observed that Ismail used
very frequently to have a number of men at his house by night, and I
was naturally curious to know who they were, and why they assembled.
One evening that I knew they were expected, I feigned to lie down and
go to sleep as usual; but when they had all come, I got up cautiously,
and hid myself behind a purdah or screen, at the further end of the
room where they sat. After they had eaten what was prepared for
them, they all drew together, and began conversing in a language I
only partially understood, and I thought this strange, as I knew
Hindoostanee and the common dialect myself, having picked up the latter
by associating with the boys of the town. By-and-by Ismail went to a
closet very near where I lay, and his movement alarmed me greatly,
as I was fearful of being discovered; he took from it a box, which
he placed in the circle, and opened it. Rich as I had always thought
him, I had no idea of the wealth it contained; there were quantities
of gold and silver ornaments of all kinds, with strings of pearls and
other valuables; they seemed all parcelled out into lots, as equally as
possible, and to each man he gave one, reserving a considerable share
for himself.
At last they began to speak in Hindoostanee, a language I understood.
One of them, an elderly man with a venerable beard, said to Ismail,--
"What do you intend doing with Ameer? He is almost a young man; and if
he is to be one of us, it is high time he should be taught what to do.
It is very dangerous to have him about the house; he might discover
something, and be off before you knew anything of the matter."
"Oh, I have no fear of him," said Ismail, "he is too fond of me;
besides, he has no other protector in the world but myself. He was the
son of ----"
And here the conversation was carried on by Ismail again in the
language I did not understand.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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