Confessions of a Thug

by Meadows Taylor

After many days, which elapsed without my being sent for, and when I had concluded that my fate was decided, the Moonshee whom I had seen in the court, with a Jemadar of Nujeeb's, and two of the approvers, came to me. "Ameer Ali," said the first, "we are sent by the Sahib Bahadur to tell you of your fate."

"I can guess it," said I—"I am to suffer with the rest. Well! many a good Thug has thus died before me, and you shall see that Ameer Ali fears not death."

"You have guessed rightly," said the Moonshee, "there is no hope for you: your final trial will come on in a day or two; and there is such an array of facts against you, and the accounts from the Rajah of Jhalone so entirely agree with the statements of all the approvers, that it is impossible you can escape death—or, if you do escape it, nothing can save you from the Kala Panee."

"Death!" cried I—"death at once! Ah, Moonshee! you have influence with my judges—you can prevent my being sent away over the far sea, never to behold my country more, and to linger out the remnant of my days in a strange land condemned to work in irons. These hands have never been used to labour; how shall I endure it? Death is, indeed, welcome, compared with the Kala Panee."

"But why should it be either, Meer Sahib?" asked the Jemadar; "your life or death is in your own hands: these men will tell you how they are treated by the master they serve, and you may be like them if you are wise."

"Never!" cried I; "never shall it be said of Ameer Ali that he betrayed an associate."

"Listen, Kumbukht!" said the Moonshee; "we are not come to use entreaties to one who deserves to die a thousand deaths, to one whose name is a terror to the country; you are in our power, and there is no averting your fate: an alternative is offered, which you may accept or not as you please; no force is used, no argument shall be wasted on you. Say at once, will you live and become an approver like the rest,—have good clothes to wear and food to eat, and be treated with consideration,—or wilt you die the death of a dog? Speak, my time is precious, and I have no orders to bandy words with you."

"Accept the terms, Ameer Ali," said both the approvers; "do not be a fool, and throw your last chance of life away!"

I mused for a moment: what was life to me? should it ever be said that Ameer Ali had become a traitor, and, for the sake of a daily pittance of food and the boon of life, had abandoned his profession and assisted to suppress it? No, I would die first, and I told them so. "Begone!" said I; "take this message to your employer,—that the soul of Ameer Ali is too proud to accept his offer, and that he scorns it. Death has no terrors for him; yet shame, everlasting shame has!"

They left me, and I mused over my lot. I was to die; that was determined. Did I fear death? not at first; I looked at the transition as one that would lead me to eternal joys—to Paradise—to my father and Azima. But as I thought again and again, other reflections crowded on my spirit: I was to die, but how? not like a man or a soldier, but like a miserable thief, the scorn of thousands who would exult in my dying struggles; and then I remembered those of the wretch who had been hung before my eyes when Bhudrinath was with me, and I pictured to myself the agony he must have suffered ere life was extinct—the shame of the death—the ignominy which would never leave my memory. All these weighed heavily on me. On the other hand was life—one of servitude it was true, but still it was life; I should be protected, and I might once more perhaps be free, if the Europeans relented towards me, and I did them faithful service.