Historical fiction; India -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Thugs (Indic criminal group) -- Fiction
"Certainly," he replied; "persons of your respectable appearance are
always gladly admitted; if you will follow me, I will show you over
the interior, which is worthy your inspection." We followed him, and
passing through two gateways, which were defended by traverses so as
to be impenetrable to invaders, we stopped under the third, and our
conductor said,
"The rooms above this are well worth seeing, if you will ascend."
"Surely," said I, "we would willingly see everything." We ascended
a narrow stair, which at the top opened into a small but beautiful
suite of rooms, profusely adorned with enamel, far surpassing in its
brilliancy of colours and minuteness of design any that we had before
seen on the outside. Sentences of the Koran in white letters on a
brilliant azure ground were all round the cornices, and the ceilings
and walls were covered with flowers of every hue and design, their
colours and the enamel in which they were worked being as fresh and
bright as the day they were first painted.
"These are imperishable," said I to my father; "would that the
buildings which hold them could be so too, to remain to generations yet
unborn a proof of the magnificence and wealth to which they owed their
erection!"
"Ay," said he, "there requires no better proof than these of the
present degeneracy. The monarchs of those times were just and liberal
as well as powerful: the wealth their dominions brought them was freely
expended in beautifying their cities, and raising edifices by which
they might be remembered. Now, with the same dominions, the wealth
they bring is either uselessly hoarded or wastefully expended; now,
no buildings arise as monuments of a dynasty, no armies rejoice in
the presence of a brave and noble sovereign, and, stimulated by his
example, win for him renown at the points of their bright swords. All
now is mean and sordid, from the poor pensioned descendant of Shah Jhan
and Alumgeer to the representative of the once proud Soobahs of the
Dukhun."
"Yes," said our conductor; "what is the use of now calling oneself a
soldier, with scarcely bread to eat? The few of us who are in the fort
wander about the ruins of the noble palaces and the deserted walls, and
our only enemies are the panthers and hyænas, who have taken advantage
of the yearly increasing jungle and desolation, and bid fair to expel
us altogether. But look from the window, sirs; the open ground over
which you came is called the Fatteh Mydan, the plain of victory. Here
the proud monarchs of Beeder, first the Bhamunee and afterwards the
Beereed dynasties, used to sit, while their gallant troops poured
forth from the gates, and amused while they gratified their sovereign
with feats of arms. And yonder," added he, taking us to another
window,--"yonder are their tombs where their mortal remains rest,
though their spirits are in the blessed paradise of our Prophet."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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