Hussein: An Entertainment

  ‘Now the merchant, whose name was Mahsud Khan, had always been a pious Moslem, and from his boyhood had cherished a desire to make the hadj to Mecca. So at a certain season, when his affairs were in an excellent condition, and there was peace in the land, he decided to fulfil his desire. His brother, Mustapha the Wazir, was high in the favour of the Shah Jehan, and to him Mahsud confided the care of his great possessions, his lands and his wife, Oneiza. Then he joined with a company of merchants and pilgrims who were going to the holy city, and they set sail, it being an auspicious day in the correct season, from Karachi, and after some days had passed they came, with the help of Allah, to Muscat.

  ‘Here Mahsud found a great host of the Faithful who were waiting for a caravan to set out. He passed many days in the company of the great merchants of the city, with whom he had traded, but he was careful to observe the whole ritual of the hadj, and he offended in no way.

  ‘At length a caravan was formed, and the pilgrims set their faces to the West.

  ‘Mahsud bought camels for himself and his servants and he joined the caravan. Many of the other merchants went by sea in ships to Jeddah, but Mahsud had a loathing of the sea, for it stirred him evilly and incessantly within, so he preferred the arduous pilgrimage by land, although two months were consumed thereby.

  ‘Meanwhile, Mustapha the Wazir had not prospered. The Frankish merchants were coming into the land: fierce men who measured their cloth with their swords.

  ‘Mustapha perceived that they were Nassani, an abomination to the Faithful, so he entreated them harshly, the more so because they bribed the lesser officials well, but the Wazir meanly.

  ‘Now the Franks of that day were by no means the same as the slow sahibs of these times: they were crafty men — at a later time their Clive Bahadur out-tricked even Omichaund the Merchant and won great fame — so they conspired with certain enemies of the Wazir, and together they poisoned the ear of the Shah Jehan against him, by means of venal officials.

  ‘At this time the great ruler was almost mad with grief at the death of his queen, so when he heard the tales that they told against the Wazir, he flew into a violent passion, crying aloud that there was no truth in any man, and that as he had raised up Mustapha, so he would cast him down.

  ‘On the following morning Mustapha was trampled to death by an elephant before the whole court, in the ancient way, and his enemies triumphed openly.

  ‘The whole of the unfortunate Wazir’s property was forfeit, for after he had been executed, he was tried, and being — naturally — unable to defend himself, he was found guilty of plotting against the Peacock Throne.

  ‘The treasurer of the King made no difference between Mustapha’s own property and that which was left in his charge, so all Mahsud’s wealth was swept away like the dry leaves in the evening. Oneiza and other women of the anderun of the Wazir were taken to the royal zenana, and as Oneiza outshone the rest as the moon outshines the stars, the Chief Eunuch considered her for a long time.

  ‘Shah Jehan, with his heart gnawed incessantly by the scorpion of memory, was wont to seek distraction among his female establishment, but so far he had found no ease, and the Chief Eunuch feared for his head. Therefore he observed Oneiza the more closely, and he noted that she always wore a melancholy aspect. Again, he noticed that the other women were always cheerful of countenance, and yet the Shadow of the Lord was displeased with them.

  ‘Oneiza was filled with bitter grief: her heart was, as it were, a pitcher beneath a fountain: again and yet again it brimmed over, as she wept for Mahsud, her husband, the light of her days: moreover, she knew certainly that there was a child within her, and she was sorrowful beyond all words that the child’s father would never see it. Yet she dared not say anything, for the other women of the zenana hated her — they feared her beauty — and the eunuchs if they knew, would undoubtedly cause her to be killed, for such was the custom.

  ‘At this time Mahsud was going on and on through the djinn-haunted sands towards Mecca. The caravan had accomplished half of its journey in safety: the wild tribes had been pacified with presents; the oases had appeared regularly and there had been sweet water, according to the will of Allah, the Merciful, the Compassionate.

  ‘Indeed, Mahsud had prospered exceedingly, for among the pilgrims he had met merchants from the Islands of Spices in the east, and he had arranged to trade with them, greatly to his own advantage. This was largely because he had, in Muscat and elsewhere, given alms freely, particularly to deserving tellers of tales. Strange and wonderful things were to happen to him, but now a bowl will circulate among you,’ said the teller of tales, looking at his audience, who sat in a tightly-wedged semi-circle before him, ‘and the discriminating may place in it what they choose in the shape of a coin.’

  Hussein passed the bowl around the company; most of them threw in a few pice or annas, and one even paid a silver rupee on top of the heap.

  ‘I see,’ said Feroze Khan, ‘that there is at least one of infallible taste among us.’ Later, however, the rupee was found to be bad.

  When the last pice had rattled into the bowl, the teller of tales raised his voice, and began once more.

  ‘In spite of the pious alms-giving of the good Mahsud, misfortune overtook the caravan, owing to the presence of some accursed lepers who hunted during the pilgrimage — the most unfortunate thing a man can do. These people (who were to perish miserably) were of the type who listen avidly to the efforts of a story-teller and who refuse even a single pie:’ Here he glared at those who sat on without paying: two of them looked abashed, and threw coppers to Hussein. ‘But to resume,’ said Feroze Khan. ‘One evening they came to the camping place, and behold! the wells were dry. They had to drink the water stored in the goat-skins. On the next evening the watering-place was, as it were, obliterated, for the Djinn of the desert had covered the whole oasis with sand.

  ‘Certain of the pilgrims, being crazed with thirst — they were town-dwellers — insisted on making for a small town surrounded by palm trees, that appeared hazily in the distance. The guides sought to dissuade them, saying that it was a mirage, a phantasm. But they, afflicted of Allah, cried out against the guides, and went away over the sand. They perished miserably, tormented by devils in the form of a whirling dust.

  ‘The caravan went on, and the next day they found a little water, brackish and foul, but it seemed like the water of Zemzem, the well of Paradise. There was not enough for the camels, who grew thinner.

  ‘On the day’s march from this place, the pilgrims beheld a host of Bedouin, who were all armed. The Bedouin did not attack, as the caravan was large and well-protected, but they suffered it to pass only on the payment of a huge sum. Each man had to contribute according to his store, and Mahsud paid seventeen purses of gold.

  ‘Then for three successive days the wells failed them. The guides, being Arabs of the desert, could go without water nearly as long as their camels, so they sold that which they had stored. On the second day the water cost its own weight in fine silver, and on the third day, its weight in gold.

  ‘The poorer pilgrims died; the rich and the guides lived. Then the camels began to die. Mahsud bought another with a great sum; this combined with the cost of water left him with very little, but he comforted himself with the thought that there were a hundred merchants in Mecca who would lend him all that he could desire.

  ‘They left a trail of dead men and camels until they came to the oasis called Bab el Hameda — the Gate of the Desert — after which there was a dreadful march of four days without any hope of water. Then there arose a great contention as to whether they should go through the worst part of the desert or turn and go back to Muscat.

  ‘That night while they slept the problem was solved for them, for the host of the Bedouin came with the setting of the moon. Those whom the Bedouin did not slay they carried away into slavery, and among these was the unfortunate Mahsud.

  ‘Mahsud was slung like a sack on a camel’s back, for he had been stun
ned in the short fight. He was in a better state, however, than some of his companions, who had to run behind the camels on the end of a rope.

  ‘For many days the Arabs travelled swiftly northwards until they came to el Bareida, where they met a caravan of slave merchants who were bound for Baghdad. These merchants bought all the captives, and marched on towards the City of the Khalif. The slaves were treated well, for the dealers wished to get a good price for them. For a long while Mahsud comforted himself with the thought that soon he would come among the great merchants, who would know him, and from whom he would be able to borrow enough to buy his freedom; but when they came to Basra the dealers bought more slaves, among them a man from Agra, who told Mahsud the news of the death of the Wazir. Then Mahsud tore his beard and cast off his turban, pouring dust upon his hair, and Shaitan moved him to curse Allah, but the uprightness within him refused, although he was well-nigh demented from excess of grief.

  ‘They asked him what it was that troubled him, for he had not disclosed himself, but he only said, moaning, “That which I was, I am not.” And in his sleep he would start up and cry “Oneiza!” When they reached Baghdad he was nearly dead, so he was sold for a mean price to a Jew from Cutch: this completed his abasement. Arriving at Cutch, he was so ill that even the Jew could get no work from him, but as the unbeliever desired above all things to get value from his purchase, he caused a doctor to tend the unfortunate Mahsud, whom he won back to life with a rare preparation of toad’s flesh: no one was more surprised than the good hakim that the patient recovered. Indeed, so pleased was the doctor that he offered to buy Mahsud from the Jew, so that he might show the result of his medicine to the public. After some haggling the Jew agreed, and Mahsud joined the household of the hakim. His work was not particularly arduous, as he was an educated man and the doctor used him as a secretary. But Mahsud thought incessantly of Oneiza.

  ‘One day a teller of tales came to the courtyard of the doctor; in payment for treatment he told stories at the doctor’s table when there were guests. He came from Agra, and Mahsud engaged him in conversation.

  ‘Now Mahsud had told nobody what he had been, for he was a proud man, and he plied the story-teller with questions about the fate of the Wazir, and of the Wazir’s zenana. The story-teller knew a great deal, for he had assiduously gathered all the gossip of the bazaars, so that perchance he might weave it into a story. Mahsud learnt that Oneiza was spoken of as the most beautiful among the women of the Shah Jehan, and as one who might become the great power when the Moghul’s grief had abated, and when the Taj that then absorbed the Emperor’s attention was built.

  ‘A little after this a friend of Mahsud’s, a merchant, came to the doctor, and he recognised Mahsud, who drew him apart.

  ‘The unfortunate man besought him in the name of the Most High and for the sake of their old friendship, to buy him from the hakim, and the merchant, whose name was Ismail Abdurrahim, said that he would if he could, for he was indebted to Mahsud in many ways.

  ‘The next day the hakim told his secretary that Ismail was his new master. Mahsud’s heart leapt with joy: in two days they were in Agra again.

  ‘It chanced that a friend of Ismail was making a present to the Moghul of several female slaves and some eunuchs.

  ‘Mahsud had explained to the merchant that the great desire of his heart was to see Oneiza again, even if he were to die. Whereupon Ismail Abdurrahim sent for a certain fakir, a man famous for the extreme austerities that he practised, such as swinging by his flesh from hooks, and sitting upon live embers, and rolling himself along the ground for great distances. It was reputed that nothing was impossible to this dervish.

  ‘Ismail asked him whether it would be possible for a man to be made to look exactly like a eunuch without actually being made into one. The dervish said that it could be done so that the imitation would at least pass the palace examination, and remain undetected for perhaps a week: more than that was impossible.

  ‘So they shaved Mahsud, taking off his whole beard. Allah, what will a man not do for a woman! And they gave him certain drugs, and when, after many more things had been done to him, he looked in a mirror, he laughed aloud — the first time for many days.

  ‘He joined the present of slaves, and very soon he found himself in the palace, where he passed the examination without question. For two days thereafter the eunuchs were shown their duties. By good fortune the Chief Eunuch took a liking to Mahsud and gave him a light post among those who served the more favoured of the women of the zenana.

  ‘Now the Chief Eunuch had for many days caused Oneiza to be in those rooms in the women’s apartment that the Moghul passed through most often, in the hope that he might notice her. In spite of her grief she was surpassingly beautiful; indeed, her sorrow served rather to augment her fragile charm than to destroy it, as is usually the case, for there are but few women who can weep and yet appear attractive.

  ‘It chanced that the day after Mahsud had entered the palace, Shah Jehan was walking through the orange garden when he heard a sound as of bitter grief barely repressed. He pushed through the bushes and found Oneiza sitting on the ground, rocking to and fro in the extremity of her sorrow. She frequently escaped into the orange garden, for she had no wish to inflame the desire of the Emperor.

  ‘She did not hear him until he asked her why she wept: then she started up in alarm, and the Moghul, seeing her face, was instantly struck with a deep pity, for she seemed so utterly miserable that his own racked heart drew towards her. He sat on the ground beside her, and having comforted her a little, he commanded her to disclose the entire cause of her sorrow.

  ‘Now Oneiza had been wholly without friends among the women, and her secret grief nearly choked her, so she poured out all her trouble to the Moghul.

  ‘The Emperor and she found great sympathy one with the other on account of their respective bereavements, and Shah Jehan said, when Oneiza had done, ‘'My grief is past all curing, but yours is not so. My Wazir may have been a wicked man — they told me that he was — but by the mercy of Allah his brother may well be a good and upright man. Rest in peace: we will instantly command letters to be written to the Shereef of Mecca, the Shadow of the Prophet on Earth, bidding him to cause Mahsud to return straightway to us. Meanwhile you will remain with my mother until he comes.”

  ‘With this the great-hearted Moghul raised Oneiza, and clapped his hands: eunuchs came running, and she was taken away to the apartments of the Queen-Mother.

  ‘That same evening the gossip went through the palace and it came to the ears of Mahsud, whose heart first leapt with joy, and then fell heavily into the pit of his belly, for he could not reveal himself without betraying the fact that he had come into the women’s apartments, and not even the magnanimity of the Emperor would save him from the death: also he would thus betray his friend Ismail.

  ‘However, he formed a plan, and going to the Chief Eunuch he asked whether he might join the servants in the Queen-Mother’s rooms, saying frankly that he was curious to see Oneiza. The Chief Eunuch, a genial man — which is rare among his kind — agreed, for he had taken a liking to Mahsud. So the next evening Mahsud carried dishes, among a train of other servants, and he saw Oneiza talking with the Emperor: his heart almost cracked in his breast, for she seemed happy, and for a second he doubted her.

  ‘Their eyes met; for a moment he saw nothing but indifference in them; then Oneiza looked again and her mouth opened.

  ‘He smiled, and she ran straight to him without a word, leaving the Emperor wondering. Instantly there was a great uproar, and armed men threw themselves upon Mahsud, who would have been killed had not the Emperor shouted to them to leave him.

  ‘Oneiza ran to Shah Jehan and said, “It is he.”

  ‘And Shah Jehan replied, saying, “But how is he here, in the name of Allah?”

  ‘ “I do not know at all. But let him tell us everything.”

  ‘The Moghul agreed; all the people were sent away, and Mahsud, having prostrat
ed himself, unfolded his whole tale.

  ‘ “Now verily, this tale is worthy of being written in gold letters!” cried the Moghul; and forthwith he caused the Court to assemble, and he raised Mahsud to be his Wazir, giving him great gifts of gold and lands.

  ‘Later, there was born to the Wazir and Oneiza a son, who came to great honours, and he was the prop of his parents’ declining years. Now all this great good fortune was directly attributable to the kindness of Mahsud to the story-teller who gave him news of Agra: therefore, if you wish to enjoy great prosperity, fill the small bowl that will now be passed round; in the name of Allah, the Merciful, the Compassionate, bestow alms freely and reap the reward in Paradise!’

  The bowl went round again, and again Hussein gathered many coppers. The crowd dispersed and Feroze Khan swept the money into a bag.

  ‘Am I not a prince of story-tellers?’ he asked complacently, when he had counted it.

  ‘Without doubt,’ replied Hussein absently, for he was thinking of Sashiya.

  They went to the house of a friend of Feroze Khan’s — he seemed to have friends in every town and village they visited — and there Hussein spent a great deal of time writing to Sashiya. His letter was neither particularly original nor well-written; in fact, it was of the familiar type of love-letter written by young men all over the world. It dealt exhaustively with his own feelings and other such matters, of very small interest to anybody but Sashiya.

  While Hussein was so engaged, a number of furtive-looking men came to see the story-teller in another room. Some gave messages, some received them, and to others Feroze Khan gave money.