Historical fiction; India -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Thugs (Indic criminal group) -- Fiction
"I represent," said he, addressing the man who had asked the question,
"that we were set astray at that abode of unsainted people, Nagpoor.
Either with a view to deceive us, or (God knows it may be so, I have
heard of such things) perhaps of robbing us, persons from whom we asked
information, told us the best and most frequented road was by this
place; and truly the town you have the fortune to dwell in is a place
of great beauty and fertility, and is evidently in the hands of a most
wise governor, and one who protects his people. How, Jemadar Sahib,
have I not said truly?"
"Indeed," said I, "you have; and the kindness we have as yet met
with shows that the servants of the governor are worthy of their
master. Truly it is not to be wondered at if the town is prosperous
and beautiful in such hands; and such is the mellifluous speech of
the kotwal, that we are impressed with the greatest opinion of the
discernment of the exalted person who has selected him."
"May your condescension never diminish," said the kotwal; "your slave
is not worthy of these encomiums; he is less than the least. If my lord
could but see the dispenser of benefits under whose beams he lives,
he would indeed say that the court of Hyderabad is worthy of being
compared with any in Hindostan, as having formed such a pattern of
excellence."
"Well," said I, "we shall only be too glad to lay our nuzzurs at the
feet of this patron of yours, and no doubt we shall see in him a
pattern of noblemen, a specimen of what we may expect to see at the
capital of the Dukhun. When may we hope to be admitted to the presence?"
"In the evening, after prayers," replied our acquaintance; "it is then
that justice is dispensed to these poor unbelieving cultivators, and
the durbar is enlivened by the presence and heavenly music of a set of
dancing-women, whom my lord has brought with him from the city."
"We will come," said I; "and I pray you to give your lord notice
that we have accepted your invitation to visit him; nay, that we are
desirous of paying our respects to him."
As I finished speaking, an elderly man of decent appearance had entered
the Chowree; he was a Hindoo, and looked like a merchant. He demanded,
in rather a peremptory tone, a place to rest in, declaring, that if he
did not get it immediately, he would go and complain to the ruler of
the town. The spirit of the old kotwal seemed to be roused by the man's
behaviour, and he declared in round terms that he would not give a foot
of ground, or an empty shop, without he was civilly asked.
"Look you, gentlemen," said he to us; "I ask you to decide between us;
I swear by the Prophet, I care no more than a snap of my fingers for
him; I have seen twenty thousand better; and if he goes to complain,
why let him go; he will be driven from the presence with stripes.
People like him come in hundreds every day, and who can trouble
themselves in looking after them?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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