Tara: A Mahratta Tale

by Meadows Taylor

The Azân, or evening call to prayers, had just ceased throughout Beejapoor. From mosque to mosque, and minaret to minaret, the sonorous and musical voices of the Muezzins had proclaimed the evening invitation to worship. It was still light, though the vivid hues of sunset were fading fast, and the warm red and orange tints, which had rested upon the minarets, domes, and gilded pinnacles of the palaces, mosques, and mausoleums of the superb city, were giving place to a sober grey. Here and there a star already twinkled in the heavens, and a few rosy clouds, on which the sun's rays rested lingeringly, floated away eastwards before a gentle breeze, that rustled among the tall palm trees. For a time the busy hum of the populous city seemed to be hushed, and the stillness and seclusion of the spot we have to describe, prompted those feelings of devotion which the time required.

It was one of those small yet elegant mosques, which are found scattered everywhere about the ruins that now exist, surrounded by enclosures that were once gardens, in which broken fountains and dry watercourses now only suggest visions of their former elegance and comfort, and where low brushwood and tangled grass have displaced the fragrant flowers and useful fruit trees of former days. Here and there a jessamine, now wild, trails over ruined walls and once trim garden terraces, or a long-lived hardy lime tree struggles for existence in the unwatered soil.

At the period of our tale, however, the building was in its full freshness and beauty. A single arch, of low Saracenic form, led into a square room vaulted by delicate groins, leading from the corners to the base of a cupola above. The floor was formed of chequers of black and white marble, highly polished; and the sides of the room, deeply indented by arched niches, were finished with stucco, which rivalled the marble in polish and purity of colour. Around the largest niche, at the end opposite to the entrance, and the arch in which the pulpit stood, were borders of delicate arabesque foliage, into which texts from the Kôrán, in coloured enamel letters, were skilfully and elegantly interwoven; while above the pulpit itself, in gold letters on a black ground, was the Arabic text, "La Alla, il Alla, Mahomed russool Alla;" "There is no God but one God, and Mahomed is the prophet of God." Two plain cotton carpets, striped red and white, had been placed before the pulpit, to be used by those who might come to the evening prayer.

Outside, the front of the mosque was composed of the dark-coloured basalt used in all the buildings of the city, beautifully finished as to the fitting of the stones, on which bold cornices and rosettes had been executed round the entrance arch, and about the projecting portion which supported the small minarets. Immediately above the archway, broad stone eaves crossed the face of the building, resting upon deep and richly carved brackets of black basalt, surmounted by a bold cornice, over which were fleurs-de-lis, forming the upper ornament. Under the projecting eaves, and on the crest of the entrance arch, were bright flowers in coloured enamel, bordered by frames of delicate white stucco work, which relieved the rich but monotonous tint of the stone, without disturbing the chaste effect of the whole. In the centre of the terrace, before the mosque, was a small fountain, for the purpose of ablution, which threw up a tiny thread of water to some height in the air, descending in a shower of light spray, and producing a faint, plashing sound, very grateful to the ear.

Above the mosque, and mingling with its slender minarets and thin gilded spires, a few cocoa-nut trees waved their graceful pendant leaves; and with them the heavy foliage of the fragrant moulserry, and the broad leaf of the plantain, with its tender yet vivid green, formed an harmonious contrast. Nearer the terrace was a group of orange trees, some weighed down by clusters of golden fruit, others covered with blossom, which, with the tuberoses around the fountain, and the evening jessamine now opening, gave forth to the cool evening air a fragrance almost overpowering. By day, the sun hardly ever reached the mosque, and it always appeared invitingly cool and quiet; but at this evening hour, shadow was rapidly deepening into gloom, adding a solemn effect which enhanced the beauty of this secluded spot.

Two persons stood by the fountain. They had just performed their ablutions, as the last quivering chant of the Muezzin, "La illa, il Ulla," issuing from the tall minaret of one of the neighbouring mosques, floated to them on the soft breeze: yet they appeared to hesitate ere they entered the mosque for the evening prayer. One of them was an elderly woman, clad as befitted the position of the favourite nurse and confidential female servant of a wealthy house, in a blue cotton petticoat of thick but fine texture, over which, and around her body and head, was a white muslin scarf. Her features were homely, yet good-natured, and she evidently regarded her companion,—who merits a fuller description,—with pride mingled with deep affection.

And, in truth, there were few fairer maidens in Beejapoor, even among the wealthy and high-born nobles, than Zyna, the only daughter of Afzool Khan. Her features might be called irregular, according to any European standard, but they were soft and inexpressibly charming; and in her large lustrous eyes, of the deepest brown, there lurked a world of deep feeling which the excitement of life would call into action. About her rounded chin and small mouth, whose full and bow-shaped lips had somewhat of a voluptuous expression, there played a thousand charms, which, though they might not disclose themselves or be observed while her features were at rest, yet, as her first timid reserve gave place to the excitement of conversation or passing incident, exercised a strange but irresistible fascination over those about her.

She was very fair for her country. Her mother's bright Georgian complexion was but little deepened in her daughter's richer and browner cast of colour; the skin appeared to possess that transparent softness which gave a bewitching charm to the delicate yet decided features; and her cheeks and neck flushed, under any excitement, with a warmth which told of her southern and more excitable temperament. Whenever she spoke, the upper lip was raised higher than usual, disclosing a rosy mouth, with teeth which glistened like pearls, even and small; and from the absence of any ornament in the nostril, it was evident that, as yet, no marriage rite had been performed. Her age might be fourteen, or even less; but her figure, from its rounded proportions and grace, would have induced a presumption that she was older.

Yet it would have been only a passing thought. One look at that innocent, almost childish face—where, though full of bright intelligence, the world had as yet fixed no stamp of care to check the natural joyousness of her spirit—would have dispelled it instantly; and if the habitual brightness was sometimes dimmed, it was but as the breath upon a mirror—the passing shadow of some gentle disappointment, which enhanced the beauty as it passed away.

There was no mark of rank or wealth about her, except in the solid gold anklets of heavy chainwork she wore, which fitted closely over her high bare instep: a ring of gold hanging loosely about her neck, and a rosary of large pearls usually worn there, but which were now passing rapidly, and apparently mechanically, through her fingers, as if the thoughts that urged them were somewhat agitated. There was, too, a slight knitting of the brow while she idly, and perhaps somewhat impatiently, dabbled with one naked foot in the water which was welling over the rim of the fountain, sending circles of small wavelets over its otherwise unruffled surface, as she looked eagerly to the entrance-door of the garden as if in expectation of some one. As she stood thus upon a step, her foot resting upon the raised rim of the fountain—the vivid scarlet of her satin petticoat, and the white of the fine muslin scarf which, wound about her person, and passed over her head—were reflected in its trembling waters; and, with the mosque and dark trees behind her, and the figure of the old nurse sitting on the step at her feet, a picture was formed such as no man could have looked on without emotion, and admiration of a being so eminently lovely.