says: "The new men who join us come believing they are in the country
of the Rakshas [Demons]. They are told this by the ignorant on their
departure. It is always cold here. Many clothes are worn. The sun is
absent. The wet is present. Yet this France is a country created by
Allah, and its people are manifestly a reasonable people with reason
for all they do. The windows of their houses are well barred. The doors
are strong, with locks of a sort I have never before tried. Their dogs
are faithful. They gather in and keep their kine and their asses and
their hens under their hands at night. Their cattle graze and return at
the proper hour in charge of the children. They prune their fruit trees
as carefully as our barbers attend to men's nostrils and ears. The old
women spin, walking up and down. Scissors, needles, threads, and
buttons are exposed for sale on stalls in a market. They carry hens by
the feet. Butchers sell dressed portions of fowls and sheep ready to be
cooked. There is aniseed, coriander, and very good garlic."
MOTHER. But all this--but all this is our very own way----
SON. He says so. He says: "Seeing these things, the new men are
relieved in their minds. Do not be anxious for me. These people
precisely resemble all mankind. They are, however, idolators. They do
not speak to any of us about their religion. Their Imams [priests] are
old men of pious appearance, living in poverty. They go about their
religious offices, even while the shells fall. Their God is called
Bandoo [Bon Dieu?]. There is also the Bibbee Miriam [the Virgin Mary].
She is worshipped on account of the intelligence and capacity of the
women."
FATHER. Hmm! Ah! This travelling about is bad for the young. Women are
women--world over. What else, Akbar?
SON [_reading_]. "There are holy women in this country, dressed in
black who wear horns of white cloth on their heads. They too, are
without any sort of fear of death from the falling shells. I am
acquainted with one such who often commands me to carry vegetables from
the market to the house which they inhabit. It is filled with the
fatherless. She is very old, very highborn, and of irascible temper.
All men call her Mother. The Colonel himself salutes her. Thus are all
sorts mingled in this country of France."
MOTHER. Ha! Well, at least that holy woman was well-born, but she is
too free with her tongue. Go on!
SON. He says: "Through my skill with my rifle, I have been made a
sharp-shooter. A special place is given to me to shoot at the enemy
singly. This was old work to me. This country was flat and open at the
beginning. In time it became all _kandari-kauderi_--cut up--with
trenches, _sungars_ and bye-ways in the earth. Their faces show well
behind the loop-holes of their _sungars_. The distance was less than
three hundred yards. Great cunning was needed. Before they grew
careful, I accounted for nine in five days. It is more difficult by
night. They then send up fireballs which light all the ground. This is
a good arrangement to reveal one's enemy, but the expense would be too
great for poor people."
FATHER. He thinks of everything--everything! Even of the terrible cost
for us poor people.
SON [_reading_]. "I attended the funeral of a certain French child. She
was known to us all by the name of 'Marri' which is Miriam. She would
openly claim the Regiment for her own regiment in the face of the
Colonel walking in the street. She was slain by a shell while grazing
cattle. What remained was carried upon a litter precisely after our
custom. There were no hired mourners. All mourners walked slowly behind
the litter, the women with the men. It is not their custom to scream or
beat the breast. They recite all prayers above the grave itself for
they reckon the burial-ground to be holy. The prayers are recited by
the Imam of the village. The grave is not bricked and there is no
recess. They do not know that the Two Angels visit the dead. They say
at the end, 'Peace and Mercy be on you'."
MOTHER. One sees as he writes! He would have made a great priest, this
son of ours. So they pray over their dead, out yonder, those
foreigners?
FATHER. Even a Kafir may pray, but--they are manifestly Kafirs or they
would not pray in a grave-yard. Go on!
SON. "When their prayers were done, our Havildar-Major, who is
orthodox, recited the appropriate verse from the Koran, and cast a
little mud into the grave. The Imam of the village then embraced him. I
do not know if this is the custom. The French weep very little. The
French women are small-handed and small-footed. They bear themselves in
walking as though they were of birth and descent. They commune with
themselves, walking up and down. Their lips move. This is on account of
their dead. They are never abashed or at a loss for words. They forget
nothing. Nothing either do they forgive."
MOTHER. Good. Very good. That is the right honour.
SON. Listen! He says: "Each village keeps a written account of all that
the enemy has done against it. If a life--a life, whether it be man or
priest, or hostage, or woman or babe. Every horn driven off; and every
feather; all bricks and tiles broken, all things burned, and their
price, are written in the account. The shames and the insults are also
written. There is no price set against them."
FATHER. This is without flaw! This is a people! There is never any
price for shame offered. And they write it all down. Marvellous!
SON. Yes. He says: "Each village keeps its own tally and all tallies go
to their Government to be filed. The whole of the country of France is
in one great account against the enemy--for the loss, for the lives,
and for the shames done. It has been kept from the first. The women
keep it with the men. All French women read, write, and cast accounts
from youth. By this they are able to keep the great account against the
enemy. I think that it is good that our girls should get schooling like
this. Then we shall have no more confusion in our accounts. It is only
to add up the sums lost and the lives. We should teach our girls. We
are fools compared with these people."
MOTHER. But a Pathani girl remembers without all this book-work. It is
waste. Who of any decent descent ever forgot a blood-debt? He must be
sickening for illness to write thus.
FATHER. One should not forget. Yet we depend on songs and tales. It is
more secure--certainly, it is more business-like--that a written
account should be kept. Since it is the men who must pay off the debt,
why should not the women keep it?
MOTHER. They can keep tally on a stick or a distaff. It is unnecessary
for a girl to scribble in books. They never come to good ends. They end
by----
SON. Sometimes, my mother, sometimes. On the Government side of the
Border, women are taught to read, and write, and cast accounts, and----
MOTHER [_with intention_]. Far be the day when such an one is brought
to _my_ house as a bride. For _I_ say----
FATHER. No matter. What does _he_ say about those French women?
SON. He says: "They are not divided in opinion as to which of their
enemies shall be sought after first. They say: 'Let us even the account
every day and night out of the nearest assembly of the enemy and when
we have brought all the enemy into the right way of thinking we can
demand the very people who did the shame and offences. In the meantime,
let it be any life.' This is good counsel for _us_ in our account, oh
my mother."
FATHER [_after a pause_]. True! True! It is good advice. Let it be any
life.... Is that all?
SON. That is all. He says: "Let it be _any_ life." And I think so too.
MOTHER. "_Any_ life." Even so! And then we can write to him quickly
that we have taken our revenge quickly. [_She reaches for her husband's
rifle which she passes over to her son, who stretches his hand towards
it with a glance at his father._]
FATHER. On your head, Akbar, our account must lie--at least till I am
better. Do you try to-night?
SON. May be! I wish we had the high-priced illuminating fireballs he
spoke of. [_Half rises._]
MOTHER. Wait a little. There is the call for the Ishr [the evening
prayer].
MUEZZIN [_in the village mosque without as the first stars show_]. God
is great! God is great! God is great! I bear witness, etc.
[_The family compose themselves for evening prayer._]
A TROOPER OF HORSE
_To the sister of the pensioned Risaldar Major Abdul Qadr Khan, at her
own house behind the shrine of Gulu Shah near by the village of Korake
in the Pasrur Tehsil of the Sialkot District in the Province of the
Punjab. Sent out of the country of France on the 23rd of August, 1916,
by Duffadar Abdul Rahman of the 132nd (Pakpattan) Cavalry--late
Lambart's Horse._
Mother! The news is that once only in five months I have not received a
letter from you. My thoughts are always with you. Mother, put your ear
down and listen to me. Do not fret; I will soon be with you again.
Imagine that I have merely gone to Lyallpur [the big recruiting-depot
in India]; think that I have been delayed there by an officer's order,
or that I am not yet ready to come back. Mother, think of me always as
though I were sitting near by, just as I imagine you always beside me.
Be of good cheer, Mother, there is nothing that I have done which is
hidden from you. I tell you truly, Mother, I will salute you again. Do
not grieve. I tell you confidently I shall bow before you again in
salutation. It will be thus, Mother. I shall come in the dead of the
night and knock at your door. Then I will call loudly that you may wake
and open the door to me. With great delight you will open the door and
fold me to your breast, my Mother. Then I will sit down beside you and
tell you what has happened to me--good and evil. Then having rested the
night in comfort I will go out after the day has come and I will salute
all my brethren at the mosque and in the village. Then I will return
and eat my bread in pleasure and happiness. You, Mother, will say to
me: "Shall I give you some _ghi_?" [native butter]. I will say at first
proudly, like one who has travelled:--"No, I want none." You will press
me, and I will softly push my plate over to you and you will fill it
with _ghi_, and I shall dip my cake in it with delight. Believe me,
Mother, this homecoming will take place just as I have described it. I
see you before me always. It seems to me only yesterday that I bent to
your feet when I made salutation and you put your hand upon my head.
Mother, put your trust in God to guard my head. If my grave lies in
France it can never be in the Punjab, though we try for a thousand
years. If it be in the Punjab then I shall certainly return to it to
that very place. Meantime, Mother, consider what I have to eat. This is
the true list. I eat daily sugar and ghi and flour, salt, meat, red
peppers, some almonds and dates, sweets of various kinds as well as
raisins and cardamoms. In the morning I eat tea and white biscuits. An
hour after, halwa and puri [native dishes]. At noon, tea and bread; at
seven o'clock of the evening, vegetable curry. At bedtime I drink milk.
There is abundance of milk in this country. I am more comfortable here,
I swear it to you, Mother, than any high officer in India. As for our
clothing, there is no account kept of it. You would cry out, Mother, to
see the thick cloth expended. So I beg you, Mother, to take comfort
concerning your son. Do not tear my heart by telling me your years.
Though we both lived to be as old as elephants I am your son who will
come asking for you as I said, at your door.
As to the risk of death, who is free from it anywhere? Certainly not in
the Punjab. I hear that all those religious mendicants at Zilabad have
proclaimed a holy fair this summer in order that pious people may feed
them, and now, having collected in thousands beside the river in hot
weather, they have spread cholera all over the district. There is
trouble raging throughout all the world, Mother, and yet these sons of
mean fathers must proclaim a beggars' festival in order to add to it!
There should be an order of the Government to take all those lazy
rascals out of India into France and put them in our front-line that
their bodies may be sieves for the machine guns. Why cannot they
blacken their faces and lie in a corner with a crust of bread? It is
certainly right to feed the family priests, Mother, but when the idle
assemble in thousands begging and making sickness and polluting the
drinking-water, punishment should be administered.
Very much sickness, such as cholera and dysentery, is caused by
drinking foul water. Therefore, it is best to have it boiled, Mother,
no matter what is said. When clothes are washed in foul water, sickness
also spreads. You will say, Mother, that I am no longer a trooper but a
washer-woman or an apothecary, but I swear to you, my Mother, what I
have said is true. Now, I have two charges to deliver to you as to the
household under you. I beg you, my Mother, to give order that my son
drink water which is boiled, at least from the beginning of the hot
weather till after the Rains. That is one charge. The second is that
when I was going down to the sea with the Regiment from home, the Lady
Doctor Sahiba in the Civil Lines asked of our Colonel's lady whether
any of us desired that their households should take the charm against
the small-pox [be vaccinated]. I was then busy with my work and I made
no reply. Now let that Doctor Sahiba know that I desire by her favour
that my son take the charm as soon as may be. I charge you, Mother,
upon _his_ head that it is done soon. I beg you respectfully to take
this charge upon you.
Oh, my Mother, if I could now see you for but half of one watch in the
night or at evening preparing food! I remember the old days in my
dreamings but when I awake--there is the sleeper and there is the
bedding and it is more far off than Delhi. But God will accomplish the
meetings and surely arrange the return.
Mother, before going out to the attack the other day, I had a dream. I
dreamed that a great snake appeared in our trenches in France and at
the same time our Pir Murshid [our family priest] whose face I saw
quite clearly, appeared with a stick and destroyed it. Well then,
Mother, our lot went in to the attack and returned from it safely.
Those who were fated to be the victims of death were taken and those
who were fated to be wounded were wounded; and all our party returned
safely. At the same time, the Government secured a victory and the
Regiment obtained renown. It was _our_ horse that went out over the
trenches, Mother, and the Germans, being alarmed, fled. We were
forbidden to pursue because of hidden guns. This was trouble to us. We
owed them much blood on our brethren's account. Tell the Murshid my
dream and ask him for a full interpretation. I have also seen our
Murshid twice before in my dreams. Ask him why he comes to me thus. I
am not conscious of any wrong-doing, and if it is a sign of favour to
me, then the shape should speak.
I am quite aware how God rewards the unwilling. He is all powerful.
Look at the case of that man of our own family who was ordered to the
front with a higher rank. He refused promotion in order to stay behind,
and in a month's time he died of the plague in his own village. If he
had gone to the front his family would have received the war pension.
An atheist never achieves honour, Mother. He is always unsettled and
has no consolations. Do we Mussulmans think that the Prophet will spend
all his time in asking God to forgive our transgressions? Tell the Pir
Murshid what I have written.
Mother, put down your ear and listen to me in this matter, my Mother.
There is one thing I wish to impress earnestly on you. You must know
that among recruits for the Regiment there are too few of our kind of
Mussulmans. They are sending recruits from the Punjab who were formerly
labourers and common workmen. The consequence of this is, in the
Regiment, that we Mussulmans are completely outnumbered by these low
people, and the promotions go accordingly. Each of our troops, my
Mother, has been divided into two; that is to say there are four troops
to a squadron. We Mussulmans should have at least two troops out of the
four, but owing to the lack of recruits we have not sufficient men of
our faith to form more than one. Now, Mother, as it was in our fathers'
time, he who supplies the men gets the promotion. Therefore, if our
friends at home, and especially our Pir Murshid, would exert themselves
to supply fifteen or twenty recruits, I could approach my Colonel Sahib
in regard to promotion. If my Colonel received my request favourably
then you at home would only have the trouble to provide the men. But I
do not think, Mother, there would be any trouble if our Pir Murshid
exerted himself in the matter and if my father's brother also exerted
himself. A family is a family even [if it be] scattered to the ends of
the earth, Mother. My father's brother's name is still remembered in
the Regiment on account of his long service and his great deeds of old.
Tell him, my Mother, that the men talk of him daily as though he had
only resigned yesterday. If he rides out among the villages with his
medals he will certainly fetch in many of our class. If it were fifty
it would mean much more influence for me with my Colonel. He is very
greedy for our class of Mahommedans.
Mother, our Pir Murshid too, is a very holy man. If he preached to them
after harvest he would fetch in many and I should be promoted, and the
pensions go with the promotion. In a short time by God's assistance, I
might command a troop if sufficient recruits were attained by the
exertions of my friends and well-wishers. The honour of one is the
honour of all. Lay all this before the Murshid and my uncle.
None of the Cavalry have yet done anything to compare with our
Regiment. This may be because of fate or that their nature is not equal
to ours. There is great honour to be got out of a lance before long.
The war has become loosened and cavalry patrols are being sent forward.
We have driven Mama Lumra [a nickname for the enemy] several miles
across country. He has planted his feet again but it is not the same
Mama Lumra. His arrogance is gone. Our guns turn the earth upside down
upon him. He has made himself houses underground which are in all
respects fortresses with beds, chairs and lights. Our guns break these
in. There is little to see because Mama Lumra is buried underneath.
These days are altogether different from the days when all our Army was
here and Mama Lumra's guns overwhelmed us by day and by night. Now Mama
Lumra eats his own stick. Fighting goes on in the sky, on earth and
under earth. Such a fighting is rarely vouchsafed any one to behold.
Yet if one reflects upon God it is no more than rain on a roof. Mother,
once I was reported "missing, killed or believed taken prisoner." I
went with a patrol to a certain place beyond which we went forward to a
place which had recently been taken by the English infantry. Suddenly
the enemy's fire fell upon us and behind us like water. Seeing we could
not go back, we lay down in the holes made by the shells. The enemy
exerted himself to the utmost, but our guns having found him bombarded
him and he ceased. In the evening we retired out of our shell-holes. We
had to walk; it was fasting time and we suffered from thirst. So our
hearts were relieved when we returned to the Regiment. We had all been
reported to Divisional Headquarters as lost. This false report was then
cancelled. The shell-holes in the ground are the size of our goat-pen
and as deep as my height with the arm raised. They are more in number
than can be counted, and of all colours. It is like small-pox upon the
ground.
We have no small-pox or diseases here. Our doctors are strict, and
refuse is burned by the sweepers. It is said there is no physician like
fire. He leaves nothing to the flies. It is said that flies produce
sicknesses, especially when they are allowed to sit on the nostrils and
the corners of the eyes of the children or to fall into their
milk-pots. The young children of this country of France are beautiful
and do not suffer from sickness. Their women do not die in childbed.
This is on account of physicians and midwives who abound in knowledge.
It is a Government order, Mother, that none can establish as a midwife
till she has shown her ability. These people are idolators. When there
is a death which is not caused by war, they instantly ascribe it to
some fault in eating or drinking or the conduct of life on the part of
the dead. If one dies without manifest cause the physicians at once
mutilate the body to ascertain what evil was hidden inside it. If
anything is discovered there is a criminal trial. Thus the women-folk
do not traffic in poisons and wives have no suspicion one against the
other. Truly, Mother, people are only defective on account of
ignorance. Learning and knowledge are the important things.
Your letters come to me with every mail exactly as if we were at
headquarters. This is accomplished solely by knowledge. There are
hundreds of women behind our lines who make clean and repair the dirty
clothes of the troops. Afterwards, they are baked in very hot ovens
which utterly destroy the vermin and also, it is said, diseases. We
have, too, been issued iron helmets to protect the head against falling
shots. It was asked of us all if any had an objection. The Sikhs
reported that they had not found any permission in their Law to wear
such things. They, therefore, go uncovered. It was reported by our
priests for us Mahommedans that our Law neither forbids nor enjoins. It
is a thing indifferent. They are heavier than the pagri [turban], but
they turn falling iron. Doubtless, it is Allah's will that the lives of
His Faithful should be prolonged by these hats. The sons of mothers who
go to foreign parts are specially kept under His Eye.
We know very well how the world is made. To earn a living and bear
trouble is the duty of man. If I send you a report that I have won
promotion in the Regiment, do not forget to distribute alms to the
extent of fifteen rupees and to feed the poor.
Mother, put down your ear and listen to me. There is no danger whatever
in box-pictures [snapshot-photographs]. Anyone submitted to them is in
all respects as he was before. Nothing is taken out of his spirit. I,
myself, Mother, have submitted myself to many box-pictures, both
mounted and standing beside my horse. If at any time again the Zenana
Doctor Sahiba desires to make a box-picture of _him_ do not snatch the
child away but send the picture to me. I cannot see him in my dreams
because at his age he changes with each month. When I went away he was
still on all fours. Now you tell me he stands up holding by the skirts.
I wish to see a box-picture of this very greatly indeed. I can read
box-pictures now as perfectly as the French. When I was new to this
country I could not understand their meaning in the least. This is on
account of knowledge which comes by foreign travel and experience.
Mother, this world abounds in marvels beyond belief. We in India are
but stones compared to these people. They do not litigate among
themselves; they speak truth at first answer; their weddings are not
[performed] till both sides are at least eighteen, and no man has
authority here to beat his wife.
I have resided in billets with an old man and his wife, who possess
seven hens, an ass, and a small field of onions. They collect dung from
our horse-lines upon their backs, a very little at a time but
continuously. They are without means of maintenance, yet they do not
lay a finger upon any food except through invitation. They exhibit
courtesy to each other in all things.
They call me _Sia_ [monsieur?] which is Mian [Mahommedan title of
respect] and also _man barah_ [mon brave?] which signifies hero. I have
spoken to them many times of you, my Mother, and they desire I send you
their salutations. She calls me to account strictly for my doings each
day. At evening tide I am fetched in with the hens. My clothes are then
inspected and repaired when there is need. She turns me back and forth
between her hands. If I exhibit impatience, she hits me upon the side
of the head, and I say to my heart it is your hands.
Now this is the French language, Mother.
(1) _Zuur mononfahn._ The morning salutation.
(2) _Wasi lakafeh._ Coffee is prepared.
(3) _Abil towah mononfahn._ Rise and go to parade.
(4) _Dormeh beeahn mon fiz nublieh pahleh Bondihu._ This is their
dismissal at night, invoking the blessing of their God. They use a
_Tasbih_ [rosary] in form like ours but of more beads. They recite
prayers both sitting and walking. Having seen my _Tasbih_ these old
people become curious concerning the Faith. Certainly they are
idolators. I have seen the images by the roadside which they worship.
Yet they are certainly not Kafirs, who hide the truth and the mercy of
Allah is illimitable. They two send you their salutations thus:--_Onvoyeh
no zalutazioun zempresseh ar zmadam vot mair._ It is their form of
blessing.