THE STORY OF PIR SAB
Very, very far away in the north of India is a big river, and many years ago there lived, not very far from its banks, an old woman who had an only daughter—a beautiful girl, who, when she grew up, was given in marriage to a man who lived in a village on the opposite bank of the river; and all preliminaries being arranged, a day was fixed for the marriage party with the bride to cross over.
A gay company with songs and music set out, and everything went well until they reached the middle of the stream. The current is strong and dangerous in that place, and in less time than it takes to say it, the joyous party, with its music and songs and drummers, and the litter which held the bride, was hurled into the seething water, and every soul sank and was drowned.
The old woman alone, who had remained at home on account of her feeble age, escaped, and sad indeed was she when she came to hear of her daughter’s fate.
Her own home grew lonely and uncongenial to her, so, in a half-frenzied state, she betook herself to the river side, and there spent many hours every day calling to the river to give up her dead.
This went on for twenty years! One day Pir Sab, a pious Mahamedan, arrived there, and was about to say his prayers when the old woman attracted his attention.
“Pray, why do you weep, old woman?” he said.
“For my child, a beautiful bride who, with all her wedding guests, was drowned in this river twenty years ago.”
“Twenty years! and you have mourned so long?” Thus saying, Pir Sab dismounted from his horse, and covering his head with a sheet, he stood by the river and cried: “O river, restore the dead! O river, restore the dead! O river, restore the dead!”
