A TRIP TO THE CITY
ONE evening Dada said, "Shahbaz has just come from the city, and says
that they are paying twenty-five shahis a batman for wheat. If God is
willing, I and Karim will get Hussain's donkeys, and take in our wheat
to sell to-morrow."
Early next morning each donkey was loaded with two of the black sacks
of wheat, excepting one donkey, which was saddled and carried two
empty jars, for Dada intended to buy some molasses in the city. To the
saddle was fastened a jug of water and a red handkerchief filled with
bread and cheese. None of the animals had on a bridle. Dada and Karim
started very early, going as fast as one could walk, and taking turns
at riding the saddled donkey.
[Illustration: "THE SUN ROSE WHEN THEY WERE HALF WAY OVER."]
The road lay over a dry and sandy plain six miles wide, which it took
nearly three hours to cross. The sun rose when they were half way over,
and soon there was only the deep blue sky and blazing sun above, and
the hot, parched ground, with bare, rugged mountains in the distance.
The only green place in sight was that made by the trees around their
own village, now looking like a dark band against the yellow hills.
Karim looked back later, and was astonished to see what appeared like
a large lake, bordered by many trees, instead of the village and the
plain. He called to Dada, who hardly looked around, but said, "The evil
spirits do this to deceive you."
Then, for an hour more, they climbed a slope up the mountain-side.
It was tiresome work, and Dada had to grunt "uh! uh!" at the donkeys
harder than ever, and prod them with the nail pointed stick. A few
stunted bushes were growing among the bare rocks and thirsty gullies.
One small tree was passed, half covered by tattered bits of cloth tied
to its branches.
Dada carefully tore off a faded strip from his ragged coat, and
fastened it to a twig. "There is no water," he said, "and yet this
tree is always green. It is a spirit who does this. Let us give him an
offering of respect." Karim felt afraid, and did the same.
At last they went down a steep slope into a valley. Here was a spring
of cold water. Around it were willow trees, and near by melon and
cucumber patches, and an orchard of mulberries and apricots. They
unloaded the donkeys and for a shahi bought a melon from the man who
was in charge. They then untied the handkerchief and sat down on the
ground to eat. After the meal they stretched themselves at full length
under the trees, and were lulled to sleep by the deep "boom, boom" of
the bells that swung from the necks of some camels who had just passed
with their heavy loads.
In an hour Dada waked Karim and they started again. Soon the road grew
wider. All of the streams were now spanned by bridges, while on every
side were vineyards and orchards. They met many people, and many droves
of donkeys, and at last entered a long avenue bordered by willow trees.
At its end was the gate of the city.
In front of the gate the road crossed a ditch forty feet wide and in
some places half full of water covered with a thick green scum, where
the frogs were singing cheerily. Behind this was a wall, half in ruins,
with broken down towers here and there. Inside the city gate the street
was about fifteen feet wide, and one could not see anything on either
side except high walls of dried earth, with here and there a gate or a
narrow alley. There was a narrow sidewalk, but people did not seem to
care much whether they used it or walked in the middle of the street.
In a few minutes they had passed more donkeys than there were in the
whole of their village. Some carried baskets of grapes, some looked
like moving piles of yellow straw, and a few were loaded with dripping
lumps of ice carried in black bags. Some were dragging poles whose ends
were for ever getting under one's feet. One had a dead sheep strapped
to its back. These were small, mouse coloured, half starved donkeys,
like the one on which Karim had been riding, without any ambition or
pride, but jogging along because their drivers would prod them if
they stopped. They passed a few larger donkeys as well, with handsome
saddles, ridden by well dressed men in long brown robes and white
turbans, who were mullahs, or by women who were so bundled up that one
could not see even their eyes.
In a corner was a group of beggars sitting in the dirt, dressed in
rags. Some of them were holding up the stumps of their arms, or
pointing to their blinded eyes.
"Give me money for food!" was their cry. "May God bless your sons! For
the Prophet's sake, give me a shahi!"
It was a pitiful sight, yet very few paid any attention to them.
At a turn of the crooked street Karim and Dada came upon three shops.
The goods of one were spread upon a platform next to the sidewalk, and
the shopkeeper sat upon his heels behind within reach of everything.
Dead sheep were hung up by their legs before another shop, and a dead
ox was lying upon the sidewalk upon its own hide, spread flat on the
ground. At the third a blacksmith was shoeing a horse, and everyone had
to dodge by with an eye upon the horse's heels.
Fifteen or twenty people were gathered around a man with long, uncombed
hair and fierce, wild eyes who carried a small ax in his hand, and was
waving it about and talking loudly in a singsong tone, while a boy was
going around with a carved cocoanut shell, asking for shahis. Dada
said that he was a "darvish" or holy man who was telling stories about
the saints.
Suddenly two horsemen appeared, shouting, "Khabardar! Khabardar!"
The blacksmith dropped the shoe and gave the horse a blow that sent him
against the wall, and the holy man with his audience spread in a row
along the side of the street. Dada in a great hurry crowded the donkeys
down one of the alleys. They were none too soon, for almost at once a
large crowd of blue coated horsemen armed with guns turned the corner.
Their horses pranced and snorted, while the men cursed some of the
people because they could not squeeze themselves flatter against the
wall. One of them struck a man, who did not even say a word in return.
And now there came something more wonderful than even Karim's
grandfather had "seen in a dream," as he told Nana later. It was drawn
by two spirited horses, which no one was riding, but a man held them
back by long straps, and they went wherever he guided them. The thing
itself was a great box of polished black colour, with a door, and with
soft cushioned seats inside, upon which were sitting two splendidly
dressed men. This box was carried on wheels that seemed much too light
to support it, and which made no noise at all as they went around. The
only wheels Karim had ever seen before had no spokes, and were each
almost as heavy as a man, and creaked so that they could be heard a
quarter of a mile away. He was so astonished that he did not notice
that every one bowed low until he felt a sharp blow from behind, and a
"Bow low, you fool!"
Then he bobbed so quickly that his hat rolled off into the road. No
one moved to get it, and in silent misery he watched one of the horses
crush it. It was a new hat, and Dada bought him only one new hat each
year.
When the horsemen had all passed he picked the hat up. There was a
hole in the soft crown, and it was stained with mud. As he was wiping
it off Dada came up, so angry that he struck him with his stick. Some
boys who saw this laughed at him. Dada did not comfort him at all,
but exclaimed, "I have a fool for a son! Why do you stand gaping like
a donkey at the wagon of the governor? If that man had not made you
bow to the governor, and to the prince riding with him, some of the
horsemen might have noticed it. Then we both would have been seized,
and probably beaten. All my wheat would have been taken from me, and
perhaps I would have had to pay some money to keep from being put into
prison."