May come, my love, my longing, my desire;
May come, forgiven, shriven, to me, his home,
And make his happy peace; nay, and aspire
To uplift Radha’s veil, and learn at length
What love is in its strength.”[6]
Universal applause greeted the singer as she concluded: the beauty of the words, so fully expressed by her voice and bearing, came home to them all.
“Then follows the reconciliation of Krishna and Radha, does it not?” said Salim, “but that we will have another time. Tell me, worthy Abdul Kadir,” he continued, perhaps not without intention, “does the Hindu poetry give you as much pleasure as our own, or, like others of the Faithful, have you a horror of the false ideas proclaimed by these Hindus?”
“With poets,” answered Abdul Kadir, with difficulty suppressing his anger, “I have not much to do; and our Holy Prophet, blessed be his name, cursed with good reason the impious Amru-l Kais,[7] however highly his Mullakat was famed by others. But that the Hindus, not content with writing the wanton poetry we have just heard, should dare to hold up such beings as Krishna and Radha as objects of worship, appears to me too gross.”
Just as Siddha was about to attempt to show the fanatic that there was a difference between mythology and true worship, between poetry and faith, Salim hindered further discussion by saying—“No theology, gentlemen, I beg; let us leave that to my honoured father, who is, at this moment, I believe, occupied with the learned Faizi, and, it may be, with other philosophers also; but we younger ones have met together to pass a merry evening. Ho! you singers and players! A drinking song, and a gay one too, that may bring back the right tone amongst us; and let wine flow to rejoice our hearts. That no anger may linger in your mind, noble Abdul Kadir, think that even a poet, whom our great Prophet did not curse, and who is honoured amongst us,—think that Tarafa[8] sang: