Historical fiction; India -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Thugs (Indic criminal group) -- Fiction
We passed through the town, describing ourselves as merchants from
Hindostan; and as the bales of cloths when stopped by the collector
of tolls were readily shown by my father, and the duty demanded on
them cheerfully paid, our assertion was credited, we were civilly
treated by the authorities, and shown an excellent piece of ground
for our encampment. "Now dress yourself in your best clothes," said
Bhudrinath, "and come with me into the town. Remember, your father is a
merchant, you are a jemadar commanding his escort, I am a bhula-admee
(respectable person) belonging to you; we will take with us Peer Khan,
who although a Lugha is an excellent Sotha, and a respectable fellow
when he is dressed and armed: and it is hard if we do not pick up
somebody."
Our meal was soon cooked and eaten, and after carefully attiring
ourselves we set off into the town to seek for adventures. It
astonished me to see the indifference with which the practised
hands proceeded, considering the object they had in view; for to
me there was as much excitement in this, as in what I had already
learned and practised. I confess our appearance was remarkable. I was
very noticeable from my dress and arms, which were of the richest
description, consistent with the appearance I had assumed. My face,
then much fairer than it is now, Sahib, with a mustachio already well
formed, and a figure which, though perhaps somewhat slender, gave
promise of future strength and power. Contrasted with my companions,
I felt I was superior to them in appearance; and a little pardonable
vanity gave me an air and swagger which were not unfitting the military
profession I had set up. We entered the town, and betook ourselves
to the Chowree, where the kotwal and some respectable persons were
sitting, surrounded by a few armed men as is usual. As we passed by
them we were invited to enter, and received with great politeness. I
was placed in the seat of honour by Bhudrinath, who took his station at
some distance. A desultory conversation began. My father's name was
asked, where he was going, and what he had brought for trade; who we
were, and in short the general object of our journey, by, as they told
us, an unfrequented road, at least from Hindostan. The tone in which
this question was asked seemed to me so suspicious, that I thought for
an instant we were suspected, and I was endeavouring to frame a reply,
when Bhudrinath stopped me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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