Mussulmaun Devotees.--The Chillubdhaars.--Peculiar mode of
worship.--Propitiatory offerings.--Supposed to be invulnerable to
fire.--The Maadhaars or Duffelees.--Character of the
founder.--Pilgrimage to his tomb.--Females afflicted on visiting
it.--Effects attributed to the violation of the sanctuary by a
foreigner.--Superstition of the Natives.--Anecdote of Sheikh Suddoo
and the Genii.--The way of the world exemplified, a Khaunie
(Hindoostaunie fable).--Moral fable.--The King who longed for
fruit...Page 370
There are many classes of men amongst the Mussulmauns, who either abjure
the world or seem to do so, independent of those denominated Durweish;--
such us the religions mendicants, &c., who have no earthly calling, and
derive their subsistence from the free-will offerings of their neighbours,
or the bounty of the rich, who from respect for their humble calling, and
a hope of benefit from their prayers, or rather from the veneration of
Mussulmauns towards such of their faith as have renounced the world for
the service of God.
The Chillubdhaars[1] are a well-known class of wanderers; their founder
was a Syaad, Ahmud Kaabeer,[2] of whom many wonderful things are related
sufficient to impress on the weak mind a belief in his supernatural
ascendancy. His presumed powers are said to have been chiefly instrumental
in curing the sick or in removing temporal afflictions; but his effectual
prayers in behalf of people in difficulty, they say, surpassed those of
any other of the whole tribes of devotees that have at any age existed.
His admirers and followers speak of him as having been invulnerable to
fire. In his lifetime he had forty disciples or pupils constantly with him;
at his death these forty separated, each in the course of time
accumulating his forty pupils, after the pattern of their founder, who
also eventually became leaders, and so on, until at the present time, it
is conjectured, there are few places in Asia exempt from one or more
detachments of these Chillubdhaar practical beggars who are much admired
by the weak; and although they profess the same tenets and rules of life
with their founder, Syaad Ahmud Kaabeer, yet, I believe, no one gives the
Chillubdhaars of the present period credit for possessing either the
virtues or the power of that man who set them so many bright examples;
nevertheless, they are applied to on emergencies by the ignorant and the
credulous of the present day, courted by the weak, and tolerated by all.
They all practise one plan whenever called upon to remove the difficulty
of any person who places sufficient confidence in their ability. On such
occasions, a young heifer, two years old, is supplied by the person having
a request to make, after which a fire of charcoal is made in an open space
of ground, and the animal sacrificed according to Mussulmaun form. The
tender pieces of meat are selected, spitted, and roasted over the fire, of
which when cooked, all present are requested to partake. Whilst the meat
is roasting, the Chillubdhaars beat time with a small tambourine to a song
or dirge expressive of their love and respect to the memory of the
departed saint, their founder and patron, and a hymn of praise to the
Creator.
The feast concluded, whilst the fire of charcoal retains a lively heat,
these devotees commence dancing, still beating their tambourines and
calling out with an audible voice, 'There is but one God!--Mahumud is the
Prophet of God!' Then they sing in praise of Ali, the descendants of the
Prophet, and, lastly, of Syaad Ahmud Kaabeer their beloved saint. Each
then puts his naked foot in the fire: some even throw themselves upon
it,--their associates taking care to catch them before they are well
down,--others jump into the fire and out again instantly; lastly, the whole
assembly trample and kick the remaining embers about, whilst a spark
remains to be quenched by this means.[3] These efforts, it is pretended,
are sufficient to remove the difficulties of the persons supplying
the heifer and the charcoal.
These mendicants live on public favour and contributions; they wear
clothes, are deemed harmless, never ask alms, but are always willing to
accept them, and have no laws of celibacy, as is the case with some
wandering beggars in India, who are naked except the wrapper; sometimes
they settle, making fresh converts, but many wander from city to city,
always finding people disposed to administer to their necessities. They
are distinguished from other sects, by each individual carrying a small
tambourine, and wearing clothing of a deep buff colour.
There are another set of wandering mendicants, who are called Madhaar[4]
beggars, or the Duffelees,[5] by reason of the small hand-drum they carry
with them. These are the disciples of the sainted Maadhaar, whose tomb is
visited annually by little short of a million of people, men, women, and
children, at a place called Muckunpore, about twenty koss from Cawnpore.
Maadhaar was esteemed in his lifetime a most perfect Durweish, and his
admirers speak of the power he then possessed as still existing; in that
his pure spirit at stated periods hovers near his last earthly remains,
where the common people make a sort of pilgrimage to entreat his influence
in their behalf. A mayllah[6] (fair) is the consequence of this annual
pilgrimage, which continues, I think, seventeen days in succession, and
brings together, from many miles distant, the men of business, the
weak-minded, and the faithful devotees of every class in the Upper
Provinces.
From the respect paid to the memory of Maadhaar, and the expected
influence of his spirit at the shrine, the ignorant people bring their
sons to receive the saint's blessing on their tender years. The man of
business also presents himself before it, desirous to insure a share of
success at the fair, and ultimate prosperity at home. The devotee visits
the shrine from a desire to increase in true wisdom by the reflected light
of the Maadhaar Durweish's purer spirit. Women having made vows to visit
the shrine, come to fulfil it at this period, if their hopes be realized
in the birth of a son; and others to entreat his influence that their
daughters may be suitably married; in short, all who assemble at this
mayllah have some prayer to offer, or acknowledgments to make, for they
depend on the abundant power and influence of the saint's spirit to supply
their several wants or desires.
At the shrine of this saint, a descendant, or as is suspected often in
such cases, a pretended relative, takes his station to collect, with all
the appearance of sanctity and humility, the nuzzas offered at the shrine
of Maadhaar. The amount so collected is enormous, if credit be given to
the reports in circulation; for all visitors are expected to present an
offering, and most of the pilgrims do it for conscience sake. I knew a
Mussulmaun who went from curiosity to this mayllah; he was accosted rather
rudely as he was quitting the tomb, without leaving a nuzza; he told the
guardian of the tomb he had presented the best nuzza he possessed, in a
prayer for the soul of the departed; (as commanded every Mussulmaun should
offer when drawing near the tomb of one of his own faith).
I have conversed with a remarkably devout person, on the numerous
extraordinary stories related of Maadhaar's life, and the subsequent
influence of his tomb. He told me that women can never, with safety to
themselves, enter the mausoleum containing his ashes; they are immediately
seized with violent pains as if their whole body was immersed in flames of
fire. I spoke rather doubtingly on this subject, upon which he assured me
that he had known instances of one or two women who had imprudently defied
the danger, and intruded within the mausoleum, when their agony was
extreme, and their sufferings for a long time protracted, although they
eventually recovered.
Another still more remarkable circumstance has been related to me by the
Natives, for the truth of which I cannot venture to vouch, although I have
no reason to doubt the veracity of the narrators.
'A party of foreigners, encamped near the fair, wished to see what was
going on at this far-famed mayllah, and for the purpose of gratifying
their curiosity, halted on a certain day in the vicinity of the Durgah,
when the place was much thronged by the various pilgrims to that shrine.
The party dined in their tent, but drank more wine than was consistent
with propriety, and one was particularly overcome. When they sallied forth,
at the close of the day, to visit this saint's tomb, their approach was
observed by the keepers, who observing how very unfit the strangers
appeared to enter the sanctuary of other men's devotions,--the hallowed
ground that was by them respected,--the head-keeper very civilly advanced
as they moved towards the entrance, requesting that they would desist from
entering in their apparent condition, contrary to the rules of the place
and people. The convivial party then drew back, without contesting the
point, excepting the one most disguised in liquor, who asserted his right
to enter wherever and whenever he thought good, nor would he be controlled
by any man in India.
'The keepers spoke very mildly to the tipsy foreigner, and would have
persuaded him he was doing wrong, but he was not in a state to listen to
any argument dissuading him from his determined purpose; they warned him
that a severe punishment must follow his daring, as he pushed past them
and reeled into the mausoleum, triumphing at his success. He had
approached the tomb, when he was immediately seized with trembling, and
sank senseless on the floor; his friends without, observing his situation,
advanced and were assisted by the keepers in removing the apparently
inanimate body to the open air: water was procured, and after considerable
delay, returning symptoms of life were discovered. When able to speak, he
declared himself to be on the eve of death, and in a few short hours he
breathed his last.' The unhappy man may have died of apoplexy.
The ignorant part of the population of Hindoostaun hold a superstitious
belief in the occasional visitations of the spirit of Sheikh Suddoo.[7] It
is very common to hear the vulgar people say if any one of their friends
is afflicted with melancholy, hypochondria, &c., 'Ay, it is the spirit of
Sheikh Suddoo has possessed him.' In such cases the spirit is to be
dislodged from the afflicted person by sweetmeats, to be distributed among
the poor; to which is added, if possible, the sacrifice of a black goat. I
am not quite sure that the night blindness, with which the lower orders of
Natives are frequently attacked, has not some superstitious allusion
attached to it; but the only remedy I have ever heard prescribed for it is,
that the patient should procure the liver of a young kid, which must be
grilled over the fire, and eaten by the afflicted person. The story of
this Sheikh Suddoo, which is often related in the zeenahnahs of the
Mussulmauns, is as follows:--
'Sheikh Suddoo was a very learned man, but a great hypocrite, who passed
days and nights in the mosque, and was fed by the charitable, his
neighbours, from such viands as they provided daily for the poor traveller,
and those men who forsake the world. The Sheikh sometimes wandered into a
forest seldom penetrated by the foot of man, where, on a certain day, he
discovered a copper cup, curiously engraved with characters which he tried
in vain with all his learning to decipher. The Sheikh returned with the
cup to the mosque, regretting that the characters were unknown to him; but
as he had long desired to have a good-sized lamp, he fancied from the
peculiar shape of his prize, that it would answer the very purpose, and
the same night he exultingly prepared his charaagh[8] (a light) in the
engraved vessel.
'The moment he had ignited one wick, he was surprised by the appearance of
a figure, resembling a human being, standing before him, "Who art thou,"
he demanded, "intruding at this hour on the privacy of a
hermit?"--"I come", replied the figure, "on the summons from your lamp.
That vessel, and whoever possesses it, has four attendants, one of whom
you see before you, your slave. We are Genii, and can only be summoned by
the lighting up of the vessel now before you; the number of your slaves
will be in due attendance, always guided by as many wicks as it may be
your pleasure to light up for our summons. Demand our attendance, at any
hour you please, we are bound to obey."
'The Sheikh inquired if he or his companions possessed any power. "Power",
replied the Genii, "belongs to God alone, the Creator of all things
visible and invisible; but by His permission we are enabled to perform, to
a certain extent, any reasonable service our master requires."
'The Sheikh soon put their abilities to the test, and satisfied himself
that these agents would aid and assist him in raising his character with
the world (for he coveted their praise), "They would", he thought,
"assuredly believe he was a pious Durweish, when he could convince them by
a ready compliance with their requests, which must seem to follow his
prayers, and which he should be able to further now by the aid of the
Genii."
'The pretended holy man employed his attendant Genii fully; many of his
demands on their services were difficult, and too often revolting to them;
yet whilst he retained the lamp in his possession, they were bound to obey
his commands. He once heard of a king's daughter, who was young and
beautiful; he therewith summoned the Genii, and required that they should
convey the princess to him. They reluctantly obeyed his command, and the
princess was the Sheikh's unwilling companion in the mosque. On another
occasion, he desired the Genii to bring without delay, to the ground in
front of his present abiding place, a very curious mosque situated many
leagues distant, the stones of which were so nicely cemented together,
that no trace of the joining could be discovered. The Genii received this
command with regret, but they were obliged to obey, and departed from the
Sheikh's presence to execute his unworthy orders.
'It happened that the mosque which the Sheikh coveted was the retreat of a
righteous man, who had separated from the world to serve his God,
venerable in years and devout in his duties. The Genii commenced their
labour of removing the mosque; the good man who was at his devotions
within, fancied an earthquake was shaking the building to its foundation,
but as he trusted in God for preservation, he breathed a fervent prayer as
he remained prostrate before Him.
'The shaking of the mosque continued, and he was inspired by a sudden
thought that induced him to believe some supernatural agency was employed
against the holy house; he therefore called out, "Who and what are ye, who
thus sacrilegiously disturb the house of God!" The Genii appeared, and
made known to what order of beings they belonged, whose servants they were,
and the purpose of their mission.
'"Begone this instant!" replied the pious man, with a tone of authority
that deprived them of strength: "a moment's delay, and I will pray that
you be consumed by fire! Know ye not that this is a mosque, holy, and
erected wherein to do service to the great and only God? Would Sheikh
Suddoo add to his enormities by forcing the house of God from its
foundation? Away, ye servants of the wicked Sheikh, or meet the fire that
awaits you by a moment's further delay!"
'The Genii fled in haste to their profane employer, whose rage was
unbounded at their disobedience, as he termed their return without the
mosque; he raved, stormed, and reviled his slaves in bitter sarcasms, when
they, heartily tired of the Sheikh's servitude, caught up the copper
vessel, and, in his struggle to resist the Genii, he was thrown with
violence on the ground, when his wicked soul was suddenly separated from
his most impure body.'
This story receives many alterations and additions, agreeable to the
talent and the inclination of the person relating it in Native society;
but as there once was a person on whose history it has been founded, they
do not denominate it fabulous or khaunie.[9] The following, which I am
about to copy from a translation of my husband's, is really a mere fable;
and, however trifling and childish it may appear, I feel bound to insert
it, as one among those things which serves to illustrate the character of
the people I have undertaken to describe; merely adding, that all these
fables prove an unceasing entertainment in the zeenahnah, with females who
cannot themselves read, either for amusement or instruction:--
'A certain man was travelling on horseback through an immense forest; and
when he came to a particular spot, he observed fire consuming some bushes,
in the centre of which was a monstrous large snake. The Snake was in
danger of being destroyed by the flames, so he called to the Traveller, in
a voice of despair--"Oh! good Sahib, save me, or I perish!"[10]
'The Traveller was a very tender-hearted creature, prone to pity the
painful sufferings of every living creature, whether man or animal; and
therefore began to devise some scheme for liberating the Snake from the
devouring flames. His horse's corn bag, which was made of leather, hung
dangling by a rope from the crupper; this, he thought, would be the best
thing he could offer to the distressed Snake. Accordingly, holding fast by
the rope, he threw the bag towards the flames, and desired the Snake to
hasten into it, who immediately accepted the offered aid, and the
Traveller drew him out of his perilous situation.
'No sooner was the Snake released from danger, than, ungrateful for the
services he had received from the Traveller, he sprang towards him, with
the purpose of wounding his deliverer. This, however, he failed to
accomplish, for the Traveller drew back in time to escape the attack; and
demanded of his enemy his reasons for such base ingratitude, saying--"Have
I not saved your life by my prompt assistance? What a worthless reptile
art thou! Is this thy mode of rewarding benefits?"--"Oh!" said the Snake,
"I am only imitating the way of the world; who ever thinks of returning
good for good? No, no! every benefit received by the creature of this
world is rewarded to the donor by an ungrateful return. I tell you, good
Traveller, I am only following the example set me in the way of the world."
'"I shall not take your word for it," said the Traveller in reply; "but if
I can be convinced that what you say is true, you shall be welcome to bite
me."--"Agreed," said the Snake; and off they set together in search of
adventures.
'The first object they met was a large Pepul-tree[11] whose branches spread
out an inviting shelter to the weary traveller to repose under, without
rent or tax. The Pepul-tree was asked, "Whether it was consistent with the
way of the world for the Snake to try to wound the man who had preserved
him from destruction."
'The Pepul-tree replied, "To follow in the way of the world, I should say
the Snake was justified. A good return is never now-a-days tendered for a
benefit received by mere worldlings, as I can bear witness by my own
sufferings. Listen to my complaint:--Here in this solitary jungle, where
neither hut nor mansion is to be found, I spread forth my well-clothed
branches,--a welcome shelter to the passing traveller from the burning
heat of the noontide sun, or the deluge poured out from the over-charged
cloud;---under my cover they cook their meal, and my falling leaves supply
them with fuel, as also with a bed on which they may recline their weary
limbs. Think you, when they have thus profited by the good I have done
them, that they are grateful for my services?--Oh, no! the ingrates
despoil the symmetry of my form, break off my branches with violence, and
trudge off triumphantly with the spoil which may serve them for fuel for
cooking at their next stage. So you see the Snake is right; he has but
followed the way of the world."
'The Snake exultingly led the way in search of other proofs by which he
should be justified. They fell in with a man who was by occupation a
camel-driver. The Man being made acquainted with the point at issue,
desired to be heard, as he could prove by his own tale that the Snake's
ingratitude was a true picture of the way of the world:--"I was the sole
proprietor of a very fine strong camel, by whose labour I earned a
handsome competence for each day's provision of myself and family, in
conveying goods and sometimes travellers from place to place, as my good
fortune served me. On a certain day, returning home through an intricate
wood, I drew near to a poor blind man who was seated on the ground
lamenting his hard fate. Hearing my camel's feet advance, he redoubled his
cries of distress, calling loudly for help and assistance. His piteous
cries won upon the tender feelings of my heart; so I drew near to inquire
into his situation, he told me with tears and sobs, that he was travelling
on foot from his home to visit his relations at the next town; that he had
been attacked by robbers, his property taken from him by violence, and
that the boy, his guide, was forced from him by the banditti as a slave;
and here, added the blind man, must I perish, for I can neither see my way
home, nor search for food; in this lone place my friends will never think
to seek me, and my body will be the feast for jackals ere the morning
dawns.
'"The poor man's story made so deep an impression on my mind, that I
resolved on assisting him; accordingly my camel was made to kneel down, I
seated the blind man safely on my beast, and set off with him to the city
he called his home. Arrived at the city gates, I lowered my camel, and
offered to assist the poor man in descending from his seat; but, to my
astonishment, he commenced abusing me for my barefaced wickedness,
collected a mob around us, by his cries for help from his persecutor,
declared himself the master of the camel, and accused me of attempting to
rob him now as I had done his brother before.
'"So plausible was his speech--so apparently innocent and just his
demands--that the whole collected populace believed I was actually
attempting to defraud the blind man of his property, and treated me in
consequence with great severity. I demanded to be taken before the Kauzy
of the city. 'Yes yes,' said the blind man, 'we will have you before the
Kauzy'; and away we went, accompanied by the crowd who had espoused the
blind man's cause against me.
'"The blind man preferred his claim, and advocated his own cause with so
many arguments of apparent justice, that I was not allowed a voice in the
business; and in the end I was sentenced to be thrust out of the city as a
thief and vagabond, with a threat of still greater punishment if I dared
to return. Here ends my sad tale; and you may judge for yourself, oh,
Traveller! how truly the Snake has proved to you that he follows but the
way of the world!"
* * * * *
'As they pursued their way in search of further conviction, they met a Fox,
whose wisdom and sagacity was consulted on the important question. Having
heard the whole history with becoming gravity, the Fox addressed the
Traveller:--"You can have no good reason to suppose, Mr. Traveller, that
in your case there should be any deviation from the general rule. I have
often been obliged to suffer the vilest returns from friends whom I have
been active to oblige; but I am rather curious to see the way you effected
the release of the Snake from the fire, for I will candidly confess myself
so stupid as not clearly to understand the description you have both
attempted to give. I shall judge the merits of the case better if I see it
performed."
'To this proposal the Snake and Traveller agreed: and when the corn bag
was thrown towards the Snake, he crept into it as before. The Fox then
called out to the Traveller "Draw quickly!" he did so, and the Snake was
caught by a noose in the cord which the Fox had contrived unperceived, by
which the Snake was secured fast round the middle. "Now," said the Fox,
"bruise your enemy, and thus relieve the world of one base
inhabitant!"'[12]
This fable is frequently enlarged and embellished by the reciter to a
considerable extent, by introducing many different objects animate and
inanimate, to elucidate the question before the Fox arrives, who is
generally brought in to moral the fable.
I trust to be excused for transcribing the following moral fable which was
translated from the Persian by my husband for my amusement, bearing the
title of 'The King who longed for an unknown fruit:'--
'A certain King was so great a tyrant, that his servants and subjects
dreaded each burst of anger, as it were the prelude to their own
annihilation. The exercise of his will was as absolute as his power; he
had only to command, and obedience followed, however difficult or
inconvenient to the people who served under him.
'This tyrant dreamed one night that he was eating fruit of an
extraordinary flavour and quality. He had never in his whole life seen
fruit of the kind, neither had he heard such described by travellers; yet
when he ruminated on the subject in the morning he was resolved to have
fruit of the same sort his dream presented, or his people should suffer
for his disappointment.
'The King related his dream, and with it his commands to his Vizier, his
courtiers, and attendants, that fruit of the same description should be
brought before him within seven days; in default of which he vowed
solemnly that death should be the portion of his Vizier, his courtiers,
and servants. They all knew the King meant to be obeyed, by the
earnestness of his manner, and they trembled under the weight of his
perplexing orders; each, therefore, was speedily engaged in the
all-important search. The whole empire was canvassed, and all the business
of the Court was suspended to satisfy the whim of the Monarch, without
avail; terror and dismay marked the countenance of the whole city--for
certain death awaited these servants of the Court--and there was but now
one day left to their hopes. The city, the suburbs, the provinces, had
been searched; disappointment followed from every quarter, and the
threatened party gave up their hearts to despair.
'A certain Durweish, knowing the consternation of the people, and feeling
pity for their unmerited sufferings, sent for the Vizier privately. "I am
not", said the Durweish, "by any means anxious to please the vanity and
silly wishes of your master, the King, but I do hear with pity the state
of despair you and your fellows are reduced to, by the unsuccessful
results of your search after the fruit, and the certain consequences which
are to follow your failure."
'Then giving the Vizier a fragment of a broken pitcher, on which was
ciphered unknown characters, he told him to take it with him to a certain
tomb, situated in the suburbs of the royal city, (directing him to the
spot with great exactness), and casting the fragment on the tomb, to
follow the directions he would there receive; he further desired him to be
secret, to go alone, and at midnight.
'The now hope-inspired Vizier went as desired at midnight, and cast the
fragment on the tomb, which instantly opened to him. He then descended a
flight of steps, from the foot of which, at a little distance, he first
espied a light not larger than a taper, but which increased as he went on
until the full splendour of noonday succeeded. Proceeding with confidence,
revived hope cheered his heart, anticipating that by success so many lives
besides his own would be preserved through his humble endeavours; and that
life would be more than doubly dear, as the prospect of losing the gift
had embittered the last few days so severely.
'The Vizier passed on courageously through halls, corridors, and
apartments of magnificent structure, decorated and furnished in the most
perfect style of elegant neatness. Everything he saw bore marks of
splendour. The King's palace was then remembered in all its costliness, to
be as much inferior to the present scene as could be detected by the
lapidary's correct eye, when comparing the diamond with the pebble.
'He was perfectly entranced as he gazed on the emerald gate, through which
he had to pass to enter a garden of luxuriant beauty, where every shrub,
plant, flower, and fruit teemed with richness. In the centre of a walk an
old man was seated in a chair of burnished gold, clad in the costume of
the country, who seemed to be engaged in breathing the sweet odours by
which he was surrounded with a calm and tranquil countenance of joy. "I
know your business," said the possessor of this paradise, to the Vizier as
he advanced towards him; "you are come to obtain fruit from this tree,
which bows its branches to the earth with the weight and number of its
burden. Take one only; this is the fruit your master's dream pictured to
his fancy."
'Full of joy at the prospect of release from the dreaded anger of his
royal master, the Vizier hastily plucked the fruit, and retreated by the
way he came, without waiting to inquire what the old man meant by an
exclamation he uttered at parting, which at the time seemed of lesser
import than he afterwards imagined; but "Alas, the world" was recalled to
his memory on his way back to the palace, and haunted his mind so strongly
that he became restless and uneasy, even after the King had conferred
honours and favours innumerable on him for his successful efforts in
procuring that fruit which had never before been seen by any creature on
earth but by the King, and by him only in a dream. "Alas, the world!" was
like a dark envelope over every attempt to be cheerful; an impenetrable
cloud seemed to pervade the Vizier's mind; he could think of nothing but
the parting words of the old man, and his own folly in not inquiring his
meaning.
'The Vizier at last went to the same Durweish who had befriended him in
his hour of need, and related to him the obstacle to his enjoyment of the
blessings and honours which had crowned his success, and hoped from this
holy-minded man to ascertain the meaning of that perplexing sentence,
"Alas, the world!" The Durweish could not, or would not explain the old
man's meaning; but willing to do the Vizier all possible service, he
proposed giving him again the necessary passport to the inhabitant of the
garden.
'The fragment of a pitcher was again traced with the mystic characters,
and with this in his hand the Vizier at midnight sought the tomb, where he
found as easy access as on the former occasion. Everything he saw seemed
doubly beautiful to his imagination since his former visit. He entered by
the emerald gate and found the old man enjoying the magnificent and
sense-devouring scene, with as much delight as mortals are wont to show
when content fills the heart of man.
'"I know your second errand, my friend," said the old man, "and am quite
as willing to oblige you as on your first visit. Know then, Vizier, that
whilst an inhabitant of earth, I followed the humble occupation of a
village barber; by shaving and paring nails I earned my daily bread, and
maintained my family. Sometimes I collected ten pice in my day of labour
from house to house, and if twelve crowned my efforts I was fortunate.
'"Many years passed over my head in this way, when one day I was less
successful in my calling, and but half my usual earnings was all I had
gained. On my way home I was ruminating on the scantiness of the meal
likely to be procured by five pice for my family of seven people; the
season was one of such great scarcity, that ten pice on other days had
been of late barely sufficient to procure our daily food; and even with
twelve we thought our wants had been but inadequately supplied. I went on
grieving,--more for my family than myself, it is true,--and could have
cried at the thought of the small portion of bread and dhall I should see
allotted to each individual dependant on me.
'"In my progress towards home, whilst regretting my poverty, I saw an
unfortunate beggar, whose earnest entreaty seemed to make no impression on
those who passed him by; for, in truth, when money is scarce and corn dear,
people's hearts grow somewhat cold to the distresses of those who have no
claim by kindred ties. But with me it was otherways: my scantiness seemed
to make me more tender to the sorrows of my fellow-creatures. Poor soul,
said I to myself, thou art starving, and no one gives ear to thy
complaints; now if I take home this scanty produce of my day's labour, it
will not give a meal to all my household; besides, they dined with me
tolerably well yesterday. We shall not starve by one day's fasting;
to-morrow Divine Providence may send me in the way of more bearded men
than I have met to-day. I am resolved this poor man shall have the
benefit of a good meal for once, which he supplicates for in the name of
God.
'"I then went to the beggar and threw the five pice into his upheld
wrapper. 'There, brother,' said I, 'it is all I have; go, make yourself
happy in a good meal, and remember me in your prayers.' 'May Heaven give
you plenty in this world and bless your soul in the next!' was his only
response. That prayer was heard, for during my further sojourn on earth
abundance crowned my board; and here, it is unnecessary to remark on the
bounties by which you perceive I am surrounded.
'"That I said _Alas, the world!_ was from the reflection that I did but
one act of real charity whilst I remained in it, and see what an abundance
rewards me here. Had I known how such things are rewarded hereafter, I
should have been more careful to have embraced the passing opportunities,
while I walked with my fellow-man on earth. That I said, _Alas, the
world_! to you, was an intended admonition to mankind; to convince them of
the blessings bestowed in this world of bliss eternal, in reward for every
proper use to which the benefits they received in their probationary state
of existence may have been devoted. Go, friend! and profit by the example
I present of heavenly rewards! Persevere in a course of practical charity
in that world you still inhabit; and secure, whilst you may, the blessed
rewards of eternity!"'
[1] This term does not appear in the ordinary dictionaries or Census
reports. Sir C. Lyall, with much probability, suggests that the
correct form is Chalapdar, 'a cymbal player'.
[2] A saint, Sayyid Ahmad Kabir, is buried at Bijaimandil, Delhi.
T.W. Beale, _Oriental Biographical Dictionary, s.v._
[3] Fire-walking is practised by many Musalman devotees. In a case
recorded on the NW. frontier, a fakir and other persons walked
through a fire-trench and showed no signs of injury; others came out
with blistered feet and were jeered at as unorthodox Musalmans; a
young Sikh, shouting his Sikh battle-cry, performed the feat, and as
he escaped uninjured, a riot was with difficulty prevented.--T.L.
Pennell, _Among the Wild Tribes of the Afghan Frontier_, 1909, p. 37,
See M.L. Dames, 'Ordeals by Fire in the Punjab' (_Journal
Anthropological Society, Bombay_, vol. iv). The subject is fully
discussed by Sir J. Frazer, _The Golden Bough_[3], part vii, vol. ii,
1913, pp. 5 ff.
[4] Madari fakirs, who take their names from Badi-ud-din Madar
Shah, a disciple of Shaikh Muhammad Taifuri Bastami, who
died A.D. 1434 at the ago of 124 years, and is buried at Makanpur in
the Cawnpur District, where an annual fair is held at his tomb. On the
anniversary of his death food is offered here, and amulets
_(baddhi)_ are hung round the necks of children. Some light a
charcoal fire, sprinkle ground sandalwood on it, and jumping into it,
tread out the embers with their feet, shouting out _dam Madar_, 'by
the breath of Madar!' the phrase being regarded as a charm against
snake-bite and scorpion stings. After the fire-walk the feet of the
performers are washed and are found to be uninjured. Others vow a
black cow, sacrifice it, and distribute the meat to beggars. The rite
is of Hindu origin, and Hindus believe that the saint is an
incarnation of their god Lakshmana.--Jaffur Sharreef, _Qanoon-e-Islam_,
158 f.: W. Crooke, _Tribes and Castes of the NW. P. and Oudh_, iii.
397 ff.
[5] Dafali, from _daf_, a drum.
[6] _Mela_.
[7] Shaikh Saddu is the special saint of women. His name was
Muhi-ud-din, and he lived at Amroha or Sambhal, in the United
Provinces of Agra and Oudh. Some unorthodox Musalmans offer food in
the name, and hold a session, in which a female devotee becomes
possessed. A woman who wants a child says to her: 'Lady! I offer my
life to you that I may have a child', whereupon the devotee gives her
betel which she has chewed, or sweets, and this is supposed to bring
about the desired result (Jaffur Shurreef, _Qanoon-e-Islam_, 184 f: W.
Crooke, _Popular Religion and Folklore of Northern India_, i. 204). In
Bihar it is said that he had a lamp with four wicks, on lighting
which, four Jinns appeared, and he used them for the purpose of
debauchery. Finally, another Jinn slew him. People become possessed in
his name, and when summoned in cases of illness or trouble, announce
that a goat or a cock must be sacrificed to the saint (_Census Report,
Bengal_, 1901, i. 180).
[8] _Chiragh_, an earthenware cup in which a wick is lighted.
[9] _Kahani_, a folk-tale.
[10] This tale comes from the Nala-Damayanti Saga. Nala finds a snake
in danger of death from a jungle fire, saves it, and is bitten by the
reptile, in the forehead, which causes him to become weak, deformed,
and black in colour. The snake turns out to be the King Snake,
Karkotaka. He says to Nala: 'I gave you this bite for your good, as
you will soon learn, in order that your deformity may conceal you in
carrying out your plans' (C.H. Tawney, _Katha-saral-Sagara_, i.
564 f.: C.H. Bompas, _Folklore of the Santal Parganas_, 149 ff.).
[11] _Pipal, Ficus religiosa_.
[12] A common Indian folk-tale. In one of the most common versions the
jackal tricks the ungrateful tiger, and induces him to go back to his
cage.