Confessions of a Thug

by Meadows Taylor

We ascended by a narrow stair to the top of the tomb, and from the terrace out of which the huge dome proudly reared itself the view of the city was superb; but it was not equal to the one I have before described to you, for we saw none of the white buildings; the Mecca Mosque and the Char Minar were alone distinguishable over the mass of trees, if I except the innumerable white minarets which rose out from the foliage in every direction. From the other side of the terrace the whole of the large tombs were seen at a glance—each by itself a noble and striking object; but rendered still more so when grouped with others of smaller size, whose contrast increased their massiveness. Not a creature was to be seen; the old fort itself, its gray mouldering walls covering the face of a huge pile of rocks, seemed tenantless, and was in unison with the abodes of the illustrious dead who had built it. The silence and desolation were oppressive, and we scarcely made a remark to each other, as we traversed one by one the interiors of the noble edifices—some of them dark and gloomy and filled with bats and wild pigeons, whose cooing re-echoed within the lofty domes—and others whose wide arches admitted the light of day, and were more cheerful in appearance.

"Enough," said I, after we had examined some of the largest; "we do but loiter here while we may even now be expected. Yonder is the Durgah, and we had better go to it and be prepared, she cannot now be long absent."

I saw as we approached the sacred edifice that our cart was ready; but there was no other, and my mind somewhat misgave me that Azima had been unable to keep her appointment; and I resolved within myself that, should she not arrive before noon, I would return to the city and seek my bride—for such I now considered her. I could not leave so lovely a creature to the rude treatment she would experience from him to whom she was united—one who was undeserving to possess a jewel such as she was; but it was still early, and perhaps some hours must elapse before she could reach the Durgah, which was further from the city than I had anticipated.

I entered the holy precincts, and after offering up a gift upon the shrine of the saint, I put up a fervent prayer that the object we had come for should end successfully. This done, I sat down under the shade of the trees, and entered into conversation with one of the many Moolas who attended on the tomb, and who were constantly employed in reading the Koran over the grave of the saint. He asked me who I was: I told him I belonged to the city, and had brought my wife to perform a vow to the saint, on her recovering from a dangerous illness; "but she is not yet come," said I; "I rode on with some of my attendants, and she will follow, and will soon be here."

Hour after hour passed, and yet Azima did not come. Sahib, I was in a torment of suspense and anxiety: could she have met with any misfortune? could her lord have returned home unexpectedly? could she have played me false? Ah, not the last! her grief, her misery, were too strong to be feigned, and what object could she have had in dissembling? Noon came, and the music of the Nobut began to play,—still no signs of her. My patience was fairly exhausted, and I went to the place where my horse stood, mounted him, and bidding the men remain where they were, I rode on towards the city. I had scarcely got beyond the small village by which the Durgah was surrounded, when I saw three carts with curtains to them carefully closed approaching. My heart beat quickly with hope, and I determined to return; one of them surely is hers, thought I, and I will await her coming in the Durgah.

"She comes!" cried I to Peer Khan, as he eagerly asked the cause of my quick return, "she comes! Bid Fazil have his cart in readiness, and take it round to the gate which leads towards Puttuncherroo."

I dismounted and stood at the gate. The first cart arrived; it was filled with dancing-girls, who had a vow to sing at the shrine, one of them having lost her voice some time before, but had recovered it, as they supposed, at the intercession of the holy Wullee. They passed me, and I soon heard their voices singing one of their melodies inside the tomb.

The second arrived; three old women got out, who were the bearers of some trays of sweetmeats for the Moolas, the offering of some lady of rank, who was ill and begged their prayers and intercession with the saint for her recovery. "Mother," said I to one of them, "saw you aught of a cart with three females in it, my zenana, in fact, on the road from the city?"

"Yes," said the woman, "they are close behind us; their vehicle broke down in a rivulet we had to pass, and is coming very slowly, but it will be here directly; and the ladies are safe, for I spoke to them and offered to bring them on, but the damage had been repaired somehow or other, and they declined my offer."