India -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, English
"He is an Interesting Survival," said Wali Dad, pulling at the _huqa_. "He
returns to a country now full of educational and political reform, but, as
the Pearl says, there are many who remember him. He was once a great man.
There will never he any more great men in India. They will all, when they
are boys, go whoring after strange gods, and they will become
citizens--'fellow-citizens'--'illustrious fellow-citizens.' What is it
that the native papers call them?"
Wali Dad seemed to be in a very bad temper. Lalun looked out of the window
and smiled into the dust-haze. I went away thinking about Khem Singh who
had once made history with a thousand followers, and would have been a
princeling but for the power of the Supreme Government aforesaid.
The Senior Captain Commanding Fort Amara was away on leave, but the
Subaltern, his Deputy, drifted down to the Club, where I found him and
inquired of him whether it was really true that a political prisoner had
been added to the attractions of the Fort. The Subaltern explained at
great length, for this was the first time that he had held Command of the
Fort, and his glory lay heavy upon him.
"Yes," said he, "a man was sent in to me about a week ago from down the
line--a thorough gentleman whoever he is. Of course I did all I could for
him. He had his two servants and some silver cooking-pots, and he looked
for all the world like a native officer. I called him Subadar Sahib; just
as well to be on the safe side, y'know. 'Look here, Subadar Sahib,' I
said, 'you're handed over to my authority, and I'm supposed to guard you.
Now I don't want to make your life hard, but you must make things easy for
me. All the Fort is at your disposal, from the flagstaff to the dry ditch,
and I shall be happy to entertain you in any way I can, but you mustn't
take advantage of it. Give me your word that you won't try to escape,
Subadar Sahib, and I'll give you my word that you shall have no heavy
guard put over you.' I thought the best way of getting him was by going at
him straight, y'know, and it was, by Jove! The old man gave me his word,
and moved about the Fort as contented as a sick crow. He's a rummy
chap--always asking to be told where he is and what the buildings about
him are. I had to sign a slip of blue paper when he turned up,
acknowledging receipt of his body and all that, and I'm responsible,
y'know, that he doesn't get away. Queer thing, though, looking after a
Johnnie old enough to be your grandfather, isn't it? Come to the Fort one
of these days and see him?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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