Chapter III: Part 3

His followers, however, besought him just for once to come and see if what they said was not true. He replied, “Well! you may all go, and if I come at all, it will be later on.”

So all the people from the village, and from the villages round about, went up to the Gundghur Hill, to see the wonders that this Hindu Fakir could do. There was a large concourse of people, so the Mahomedan Fakir thought that he might slip in unperceived; and overcome too with curiosity, he had determined to see what sort of a man the Hindu Fakir was who had carried off so many people as his followers.

They had all gone to the Gundghur Hill, and the Mahomedan Fakir thought, “I will go now and see what is to be seen.” On arrival there he noticed that there was a vast assemblage of people. Looking round he saw a knot of his own followers seated together, so he joined himself to them, and waited to see what would take place.

He was not, however, unobserved by the Hindu Fakir, who, after receiving an ovation from all his adherents, addressed himself in a loud voice to the multitude around, and pointing to the Mahomedan Fakir he said, “I see here a Mahomedan Fakir of a false and wicked faith, and I tell him, as I tell you all, that as two swords cannot go into one scabbard, so neither can two Fakirs live in one and the same spot, and he that proves himself to be master, let him hold the hill.”

The enthusiasm was very great when he had uttered these words, and his own people called out, “Ascend, oh! Fakir, and put this new man to shame.” He replied, “I will; and if he can surpass me in that, I will give place to him and go away and leave you.”

Whereupon, divesting himself before them all of his garments, with the exception of his waist-cloth, and repeating audibly his “Junthur Munthur” (two Sanscrit words meaning “incantation,”) and some other words of enchantment, and then kindling a small fire he made some passes over it, and in the smoke that it made he gradually rose and vanished out of sight.

“Ah! there goes our wonderful Fakir!” said all the Hindus; “and as for this other wretched man, he does not look as if he could do anything wonderful.”

In a measure they were right, for the Mahomedan Fakir when he witnessed his ascent, was at his wits’ end to know how to prevail against such a rival. Collecting, however, a few of his own followers around him, he drew out his “Qoran” from its case. Then opening it with great caution and solemnity, he took off the shoe from his right foot, and threw it into the air with all his might. To the bewilderment of all, the shoe did not return, but seemed to go also into the skies whither the Hindu Fakir had gone. The Hindus then raised a cry: “What is a shoe compared to a man! Go up yourself, and we will believe in you!” In patience did the Mahomedan Fakir bear their reproaches, when suddenly there was a sound heard in the air as if someone was beating a door with the palm of his hand, and very shortly afterwards the body of the Hindu Fakir came in sight, and as it descended, there was seen over his head the shoe of the Mahomedan Fakir, which in some unaccountable way was slapping the head of the Hindu Fakir, and beating him down to the earth, and when he came to the ground he fell at the feet of the Mahomedan. Stunned and confused the Hindu made a rush for his cave, and holding up his hands he repeated audibly some words of enchantment, and then fled precipitately into the jungle, and left that country-side for ever.

This story is told by the Mussulmen in their Hûzrâhs, as a proof that faith will always in the long run crush and destroy the power of myth and magic; and the moral is that Allah is pure and spotless, and there is none righteous as He, or, as they have it in their own language:

Khudâ pâk sub sê bhullâh.

God is pure and righteous above all.

---------------------

EXPLANATORY NOTES.

“_Fakir._”—It might be added here that the word itself is derived from the Arabic “Fūkhr,” really three Arabic letters, F, K, and R.

From the F is Fâkâh, fasting.
From the K is Kanāat, contentment.
From the R is Rizzāat, devotion.

Three qualities that all Fakirs should possess; and the formidable nature of the pursuit is somewhat tersely told in the following Punjabi lines:

Fakira. Fakiri dur hai
Jitna lumba Kujoor hai
Chur jai tho piay
Prami. Rus
Girjai tochuk nā choorhai.

THUS TRANSLATED.

It is as difficult to become a true Fakir as it is to ascend a date
palm. When you reach the summit it is there only that you
drink the love juice, but if you are timid as you rise you are
sure to fall and be dashed to atoms.

In Akbar’s reign the followers of a seceder from the strict tenets of Islam, one Pir Roshan, when given to austere devotion, had, it is said, to pass through the several gradations of the external ordinances, or “Sheriat,” viz., reality, or “Hakikat,” true knowledge, or “Marifat,” proximity, or “Kurbut,” union, or “Wasalut,” the Arabic for mediation, and the indwelling in God, or “Sakūnut,” the Arabic for tranquility. These terms were peculiar to that sect.

“_Gujur._”—Originally a brave people of pastoral habits, inhabiting Afghanistan. A term also applied to a low class of Hindus, from Gujerat. Now used here to designate cattle owners and sellers of milk, many of whom are also Mahomedans.

In regard to a low caste of cow-herd, called “Ahīr,” the natives have a saying:

Jummay oouth ke Seengh
Têl reth sê nikklay
Gudhâ purhay Korân
Gungâ lout Poorub sê.
Puchhim by hay
Toh Aheer say Kooch
Goon nikklay.

TRANSLATION.

If horns grew on a camel,
If oil could be extracted from sand,
If a donkey could read the Korân,
If the Ganges would flow from east to west,
Then some good might be expected from an “Ahīr,”

And another saying yet:

Aheer zuduryâ Pâsee
Teenon Satyâ Nâsee.

TRANSLATION.

An Ahīr, a shepherd, and a Pâsee (low caste);
If these three get together, mischief is sure to come.

Ahīr is a general term for a pastoral race noticed by Ptolemy. They are distinguished as three tribes, viz., the Nand bansa, Yadu bansa, and Goala bansa. (_See Wilson and Elliott._)

“_Two Swords in one scabbard._”—Appeals to the sword are very common with natives of Northern India, indeed many of the warlike tribes worship their weapons.

When sharpened for service by a “Sikligur,” a man who makes it his business to give a keen edge to swords, he applies two tests. One is that the edge shall be sharp enough to cut through a ball of teazed cotton, balanced on the blade, and the other that it shall, with a light touch, lift a copper coin off a table.

A Punjabi Sipahi, referring to this, was overheard to say,

Wudday Uar thay
Nam Talwar dhâ
Birreh Sipahi thây
Nam Sirdar dhâ

TRANSLATION.

The edge of the sword cuts, and the sword gets the credit; so
the soldier fights, but his officer gets the fame.

“_Junthur Munthur._”—Sanscrit words, literally meaning enchanting by figures and incantations.

“_Ram Ram Song._”—The appeal of Hindus is invariably to “Ram,” as the god ready to help in difficulties, and probably an incarnation of Vishnu.

The Fakir’s song would likely be:

Ram jerôka bait-kur
Sabka mujra lay
Jaisa jiski chakri
Taiko Thysa dhay.

TRANSLATED THUS:

Ram was sitting at his window, beholding before him a vast
multitude and waiting to render to each according to the
amount of work in his cause.

“_Faith opposed to Magic._”—The occult sciences have no doubt found a congenial soil in India and the far East; but is a belief in them restricted to the East? or rather, are not these relics of the middle ages still found to be lurking amongst the most enlightened of Western nations?

According to “Holwell’s Mythology,” magic and its accompaniments were first taken to the Indus by the Cuseans, descendants of Cush, the son of Ham, who is credited with being the first inventor of the black art. He quotes Eusebius as his authority.

Up to this day on the Indus there is no doubt that many believe in the power of some specially devout Fakirs to ascend into the air by the aid of an invisible rope. The laws of gravity forbid, of course, our belief in the capability of any man so to control and overcome them; but the wonder is that some of these Fakirs are still able to surprise and deceive so many, and that the riddle is as yet unsolved.

In China also the power to ascend is not unknown. Conjurors from amongst the Taoist priests ascend to a height of twenty or thirty feet. Of this class are those who in Manchuria call down fire from the sky.—Dr. Denny’s “China Folk-lore.”

The wandering jugglers and conjurors on the Indus and other parts of India have a singular refrain used as an invocation before exhibiting their skill. The burden of their song seems to be:

Ya! Allimas! Ya! Kulloowar Pir! Ya! Malim da Bir!

TRANSLATED THUS:

Oh! Elymas![4] Oh! black hero! Oh! powerful demi-god!

_Note._—Asked to explain a meteor, or shooting-star, the natives say, “You see! Shāitān ever since he has been expelled from Heaven is trying to get back, and these balls of fire, or ‘Chawathas’ which some call “Shâb” from the Arabic, are hurled at him to keep him off, and so they do, and he never succeeds.”

Footnote 4:

Acts xiii. 8.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE FAKIR AND HIS QUARRELSOME WIFE.

In a somewhat out-of-the-way village in the Punjâb there dwelt for many years an old Fakir who was renowned for his wonderful self-denial and abstemious habits. He was not one, you know, who assumed their garb merely, but he preached to others of truth and morality, and his character bore out all he taught. He did not wander about, but took up his residence in this village, and so, being always there, he came to be well known, and was often visited by many people from distant parts.

One day another Fakir of the same branch and order as himself, and who was journeying north, came and claimed friendship with him, and finding him in a special place where he usually spent his day, sat down near to him, and talked of the things that concerned them both.

It being near night-fall the old Fakir asked his brother of the same faith to come as his guest for the night, and to pursue his journey on the morrow. So they trudged together until they arrived at his hut; but when the wife saw the guest, and knew that he was going to stay the night, she grew much displeased with her husband, and very abusive. It was in vain for the old Fakir to say that his friend was a traveller, and of his own avocation; the wife refused to be appeased. The guest finding himself in an awkward position, asked his host whether he had not better go on his journey at once, or find a refuge somewhere else in the village for the night, for it gave him great pain to listen to the angry words of a woman.

“Oh, no!” said the host, “I know she is very ill-tempered and cross, and frequently gets put out, but I have a great respect for her all the same, and I must tell you the reason.

“Do you not know that I am widely known as a good man? and in consequence of this, and of the advice I give, I am visited by people far and near, and they all flatter and praise me to the skies. Sometimes I have thought to myself that if this were to continue, I should be in danger of being proud and puffed up, and so be ruined not only here, but hereafter. Now this wife of mine, when she fans herself into a passion, does me real good, and I become quite subdued; and the more turbulent she becomes the more I control myself and am quiet. So you see there is a balance established between us, and the effect on me is that it softens my nature, and I am made more and more what we Fakirs aim to be; so what I lose in one way, I gain in another and a better way.”

The guest remained the night, and went away the next day deeply impressed with the wisdom of his friend and brother.

---------------------

EXPLANATORY NOTES.

“_Fakir._”—Much has been previously said under this heading, but it is well to give here a few of the sayings of the noted Fakir known by the name generally of “Baba Farīd,” whose shrine is still to be seen in the town of “Pak Pattan” in the Montgomery district, not far from Mūltān. He was one of the “Chisti class” and a Shiah, belonging to a tribe of Arab descent. The Shiahs differ from the Sunnis in the belief that Ali ought to have succeeded the Prophet, instead of Abubakr, Omar, and Osman.

The shrine is an extensive one, but in order to enter it, it is necessary to pass in by a small doorway about four feet high and two feet broad, closed by a door made of sandal wood, to which three locks are attached, and the key of each is in the custody of a responsible person. On festival days, however, which happen once a year, the locks by some magic power fall off of themselves into a cloth held to catch them.

The devout worshippers enter by the door, and pay each one rupee for the privilege, and as it is calculated that over 100,000 visit the shrine each year, the gain to some one class must be enormous. So infatuated do the devotees become, that it is commonly believed by them that the parrots cry out “Farīd! Farīd!” as they fly over the shrine.

There are piles of stones near “Ajmere,” arranged in a line, and the story is that a string of camels carrying bags of sugar were going into the city, and “Baba Farīd” meeting them enquired of the drivers what the camels were burdened with. The drivers turned upon him with a sneer and said, “Stones! Stones!” “Is it so?” replied Farīd, “then let it be stones!” and lo, and behold, when they came to unload their beasts they found that the sugar had been really turned into stones, and emptying all their bags, they left the stones by the road-side, which are to be seen to this day.

Several verses, or quatrains, have been ascribed to Baba Farīd, and here are two or three:

Oot! Farīda suthia
Mumm ka deva bââl
Sahib jinnadhay jagthay
Nufferan keah sona nââl

TRANSLATION.

Rise, Farīda, from your sleep,
Light the candle of your soul;
Thy God who is ever wakeful
His servants should not slumber.

Again, when seeing a woman grinding at a mill (one well known):

Chukki phirtay veyk kay
Farīda dhitar ro
Do purrân vitch
Akay khan na chulley koh

TRANSLATION.

Seeing the mill going round
Farīda began to cry.
Between two stones he saw
The grain that comes is crushed.

And further, thinking on the mill, Farīda added:

Jo loor eveng salaam thêê
kol kili dhâ ho.

TRANSLATION.

To be in safety keep close to the centre peg, which is God, where
some grains escape the mill, we know.

Again, and this shall be the last:

Oot Farīda suthia
Darhi Ayah boor
Agê Ayah nairay
Piche saha dûr.

Farīda aisa ho-raho
Jaisa kukh musseeth
Luthee pyree latharia
Tera Sahib nââl purreeth.

TRANSLATION.

Arise, Farīda, from your sleep;
Your beard is getting grey.
That which is to come is near;
That which has passed is far away.

Strive, oh, Farīda! to be
As the Musjid trodden grass,
Humble and self-abased,
Yet in friendship with your God.

Crooke says of Baba Farīd, that he was called also, Shakkarganj, or Fountain of Sweets. Shakkar being the Persian for sugar; but more probably from the Arabic word “Shookur,” thanksgiving. He was a disciple of Qutub-ud-din, who lived near Delhi, who again sat at the feet of Imam-ud-din of Ajmere, also a great name to swear by. Baba Farīd is said to have had the “Hidden hand” (dast-i-ghaib), a sort of magic bag which gave him anything he wished.

Every devotee who contrives to get through the door of his mausoleum is assured of a free entrance into Paradise, and the crowds are immense.

Pak Pattan was called the “Ferry of the Pure One,” and the latter days of Farīd-ud-Din were spent at Adjudhan, a very ancient city in the Punjâb. This Fakir was instrumental in the conversion of the whole of the Southern Punjâb to the faith of Islam.

_Note._—The self-inflicted penances of both Hindu and Mahomedan Fakirs are well known, but perhaps the “Measurement Affliction,” or “Kusht,” from the Persian word “Kusht,” meaning “killing,” will be new to some. It consists in making an approach to the shrine from a considerable distance, and measuring that distance by so many lengths of the body, foot after head, until the shrine is reached. But few can go through this extreme torture in the sun, and then only with the assistance of relatives and friends, who supply sherbet and drinks to the devotee, and keep his body cool with fans.

_Note._—In relation to this Folk-tale, it is said in the district:

Burri jungul ki wassar
Burri khullachnee nââr
Burri moorick ki hassa

There are three things that are bad:

Perpetual seclusion in the jungle;
A quarrelsome and peevish wife;
The rough horse-play of a boor.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE FARMER AND THE REVENUE SOWAR.

You all know that in certain parts of our country the farmers are in the habit of shifting their hamlets from time to time, according to the seasons.

In winter time they go to live in the big villages, and in the summer they dwell in the fields near to their crops.

One summer-day a Farmer was ploughing his ground, which was situated not far from a “kuburistan” or burial ground, and a Revenue Sowar came up and accosted him, and asked if the Farmer would direct him to a village where the people were altogether, in order that the rents might be collected. “The only place that I know of,” said the Farmer, “where they keep together, is in that place,” pointing to the burial ground. “This,” said the Sowar, “is no answer, sir, to my question. What do you mean?” and roundly abused the Farmer, and struck him with his “chabūk” or whip.

“Well,” said the Farmer, “it is quite true; whenever anyone goes to that place he never moves again, but we farmers always move from place to place, according to the seasons.” The Revenue Sowar was a little impressed by his attempt at wit, and was about to ride off, but overhearing the Farmer saying something audibly, he listened, and these were his words:

Hurri thi mun bhurri thi
Motian se jhuri thi
Rajah ji ke bâgh men
Dushalla orêe khurri thi.

TRANSLATION.

It was green and full
And set with pearls.
In the Rajah’s garden
She stood, and was covered with a shawl.

The Sowar said to the Farmer, “I overheard what you were repeating, but what can possibly be the meaning of it, for it is a riddle surely, so please enlighten me.”

The Farmer replied, “I gave you one piece of knowledge, and you became angry and violent; however, I will return you no ill-will, so here is the answer to take away with you.

“Don’t you see that it refers to the ‘Bhūtta’ or ear of the ‘Indian corn’? Its stem is green, its grain like pearls, and its covering sheath like a beautiful shawl.”

Farmers, you see, have their bits of wit; and then he added to the Sowar:

“Sow gullân thay hait hullânh.”

“I may tell you one hundred tales, but all are inferior to the ‘plough,’ for by it the State gets its revenue, and the people are supplied with food.”

The Sowar left him, and went away impressed with his quickness and mother-wit.

---------------------

EXPLANATORY NOTES.

“_Sowar._”—In former days it was usual in Native States for those responsible for the Land Revenue to send round “Sowars” or horsemen, to prepare the farmers for the arrival of the tax-gatherers.

_Note._—The Mahomedan Sowar of that day was presumed to be very scrupulous in adhering to the truth, and to say everything in exact accordance with that which is, has been, or shall be. “How can I do otherwise?” said one Sowar, “when my Prophet sets me the example?” Asked to explain, he replied:

“Once Mahomed was riding on his ass, and was accosted by a ‘perdêsi,’ or stranger, who asked him how many legs his donkey had. Mahomed dismounted, counted, and replied, ‘Four.’ ‘Could you not have told me,’ said he, ‘without dismounting?’ ‘No,’ replied Mahomed. ‘Who was to know whether, while I was talking to you, Allah might not have given him either one leg more or less?’”

“_Chabūk._”—A Persian word for a whip, hence “Chabūk-Sowar,” a jockey, literally a whip rider.

“_Bhūtta._”—This is from the Hindustani language, and means the Maize, or Indian corn (the Zea Mays). It is one of the noblest of Grasses, of which perhaps the Japanese variety is the most handsome.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

MŪLTĀN AS HOT AS FIRE.

There was once a Fakir of the name of Shams-i-Tabriz, his first name being that for “Sun” in the language of the Persians, and his second being that of a great city.

This Fakir was a very noted man, and wherever he went to reside the people flocked to see him, and he collected in every place a large number of followers and disciples.

His fame was spread abroad far and wide, and he lived so long ago that it was about the time of Shah Jehan, the Emperor of Delhi.

His custom was to visit the Shrines and sacred places of various countries, and one day he made up his mind to go to Mūltān. Now, when the Fakirs of Mūltān heard that he was approaching their city they became much alarmed, and concerted together to keep him out of the place, for fear that many of their disciples should run after him, and forsake them.

They arranged, therefore, to send a messenger to meet “Shams,” and when the envoy came to greet him just outside the city walls, he filled to the very brim, with milk, a brass cup that he had in his hand, and then, addressing himself to “Shams,” he said, “As is this cup full to the brim with milk, so is Mūltān choke-full with Fakirs, and there is no room for you there, and I am deputed by all the Fakirs so to tell you.”

“Shams” then turned about him, and noticing a jasmine flower growing on a bush hard by, he plucked it, and using great care he managed to balance it on the top of the milk without spilling a drop out of the vessel. “Now go,” he said to the messenger, “and tell all the Fakirs that as the flower was above the milk, so will “Shams” be over all the Fakirs of the city; yet he will not disturb them, even as you see the flower has not upset the milk.”

So off went the messenger and gave the message to the Fakirs, and they then hastily called a meeting of their disciples, and gave command that no one should give “Shams” aught to eat, nor prepare or cook any food that he might bring with him.

On reaching the city “Shams” found to his dismay that he could obtain no sustenance of any kind from the people, and though he besought many of them, for pity’s sake, to save him from starvation, the reply was always the same, “We would do so ourselves, but are in fear of the Fakirs.”

At last when almost perishing with hunger, “Shams” went to a butcher, who so far relented that he gave “Shams” a piece of meat, but refused to cook it for him.

“Shams” in despair then turned his eyes to the skies and made a bitter appeal to the Sun, saying, “You are ‘Shams,’ and I am ‘Shams’; we are both called the Sun, so I beseech you to come to my aid and cook for me this piece of meat, that I perish not with hunger.”

In a moment the Sun heard his request; and lo! and behold! he approached nearer to Mūltān by a spear and a half’s length, and the meat was cooked by the greater heat, and the hunger of the Fakir appeased.

Owing to this remarkable heat, the occurrence of which the Fakirs and people attributed to “Shams,” they all came and asked his pardon, which he readily granted, but declined to alter the position of the Sun over the city; so Mūltān has remained, from that day to this, the notoriously hot place that it is known to be.

It is celebrated, said the narrator, for four things: its heat, its dust, its beggars, and its graveyards; and this Mūltān has had three names already, viz., Huss-pur, Bhag-pur, and Mūltān, and will eventually, before the end of the world, be called Trah-pur Sultān.

“Shams” continued to remain in the city, gathering together numbers of disciples, and eventually died there. A magnificent tomb was erected to his memory, which may be seen to this day.

---------------------

EXPLANATORY NOTES.

“_Shams-i-Tabriz._”—To this day the Shrine of this saint is to be seen in Mūltān. He lived in the time of the Emperor Shah Jehan, who had a passion for building tombs and palaces. The well-known “Taj Mahal” was erected in his reign, A.D. 1627 to 1657.

This tale can hardly be classed as “Folk-lore,” but it was given as tradition, and it is interesting as indicating the element of superstition which has come to be embodied with what is actual matter of fact.

Shams-i-Tabriz was a Sufi philosopher, and the leader of Jalal-ud-din, and tradition says that he was flayed alive at Mūltān.

The Sufi doctrines are well known both in India and Turkey, and are followed to this day, and they rest all their system of morality upon the practice of Divine love, and the Fakirs are their exponents.

Sufis have laid down the following rules for their disciples:

Hear, attend, but speak little.

Never answer a question not addressed to you, but if asked answer
promptly, and never be ashamed to say “I know not.”

Do not dispute for disputation’s sake.

Never boast before your elders.

Never seek the highest place, nor even accept it if offered to you.

Do not be over ceremonious.

Observe in all cases the etiquette appropriate to the time, place,
and persons present.

In indifferent matters conform to the practice and wishes of those
with whom you are associating.

Do not make a practice of anything which is not either a duty or
calculated to increase the comfort of your associates, otherwise
it will become an “idol” to you, and it is incumbent on everyone
to break his “idols,” and renounce his habits.

(See Hughes’ “Dictionary of Islam.”)

It has been said by Major Osborne in his “Islam under the Khalifs of Baghdad,” that the spread of this Pan-theistic spirit has done harm to the Mahomedans; and that the true function of religion is to vivify and illuminate all the ordinary relations of life with light from a Higher world. The weakness to which religious minds are peculiarly prone is to suppose that this world of working life is an atmosphere too gross and impure for them to live in. They attempt to fashion a world for themselves where nothing shall soil the purity of the soul, or disturb the serenity of their thoughts.

“_Tabriz._”—Is the chief town of the Persian province of Azerbijān, or as some call it Adebaijan, the ancient city “Media Atropotene,” so called from Atropates who after the death of Alexander made himself independent. Mount Ararat rises on the N.W. border, or as the Persians call it “Koh-e-Nuh,” or Noah’s Mountain.

“_Bhāgpūr._”—Bhāg is the Sanscrit for “destiny,” and Pūr is the Sanscrit for a City, as also is Pūra.

“_Sultān._”—This is the Arabic title for a King or Emperor, but sometimes is applied to saints and martyrs, as for instance, Sultān Surwar, an eminent Mahomedan Saint whose shrine is at Baluch, not far from Mūltān, and who was distinguished for his purity of manners. At his tomb it is narrated several miracles were performed. (See “Araesh-e-Muhfil.”)

It may be added here that several sayings are attributed to Shams-i-Tabriz such as the following:

Badshâh noonh bheek mangâwânh
Mangla noonh takht Bahâwânh
Pul vich “oolut pullut” kurr sathân
Dhun Hookum merah sirdahi dhâh

TRANSLATION.

Kings I can bring to beggary;
Beggars I can place upon a throne.
In a moment I can dissolve all things;
For mine are the orders of supremacy.

Burton says that the people of Mūltān slew him in order to keep his body with them, but we can trace no local tradition as to this.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

SHĀITĀN AND HIS SAVAGE WIFE.

Once upon a time “Shāitān,” or the Devil, who, as we dwellers in India know, has the power to transform himself into man or animal whenever it pleases him, one day took it into his head that he would go round the world in the garb and appearance of an ordinary traveller; and so admirably disguised was he, that one day he visited one of the villages in the Punjâb, and finding two men seated at one of their places of meeting, or “Hûzrâhs,” talking and smoking their “hookah,” he approached them as if to speak.

Believing him to be some traveller wearied by his journey, the two young men asked him to sit down, and then they offered him a smoke and a drink of water.

As they were talking and chatting, they heard a great noise in the village, and suddenly they saw a farmer who was being pursued and beaten by his wife. The young men recognised the woman, and at once said to the stranger, “We know the character of that wretched woman; she is worse than ‘Shāitān’ himself.” Whereupon “Shāitān” said, “No! there I cannot agree with you, for how can any woman be more hateful than ‘Shāitān,’ who is the accursed one, and wears on his neck the necklace of evil?”

The young men said, “Well my friend, if ever you get married, and have a wife like that woman; you will remember what we have said, and you will then think her not merely as wicked as ‘Shāitān,’ but a thousand times worse.”

After taking some refreshment he pondered over these words, and bidding them “salaam” “Shāitān” went on his way.

It was some little time after this when “Shāitān” did take unto himself a wife, and as it happened, she turned out to be a most violent woman, and used to abuse and maltreat him on every occasion, and would even go so far as to kick and beat him and torture him in a variety of ways.

Their youngest and best child was a son, and she would even chastise him, and if the father remonstrated or interfered with her, he would always come in for a large share of her ire and abuse. When “Shāitān” had pondered over the sad plight he was in, his thoughts reverted to the saying of the young men in the village, and he said to himself, “Tobâh! Tobâh! Oh tush! fie! why certainly this wife of mine is worse than the woman in the village, yes a thousand times worse.”

Now this son began to grow up a bit of a demon in nature, and as time wore on, it was necessary that he should be given something to do, so his father one day called him aside and said, “I want you to hear some advice from me,” but the son replied, “I know you are my father, but I could never be advised by you, for you are ‘Shāitān,’ and you never did give good advice to anyone.” “That is true,” said the father, “but though I know it is my way to give bad advice to all, I could not do so to my son: come to me at all events, and hear what I have got to say,” “Say on!” replied the son, “and I will listen.”

“You know,” “Shāitān” said, “how you and I are maltreated by your mother, so that life is wellnigh unbearable to both of us: now, my advice to you is that you go on earth as a ‘Hakīm,’ or doctor.”

The son replied, “I know nothing of medicine, and how could I be a physician?” “That is of no consequence,” said his father; “you do as I tell you, and all will go right. When, for instance, you are called to see a patient, as soon as you enter the room, the first thing you do should be to look at the head of the bed or ‘charpai,’ (literally a sleeping place with four legs, ‘char’ meaning four and ‘pai” legs, in Persian). Should you see my shadow there, you should at once say to the people of the house, ‘Do not I pray you spend any more money on the patient, for he is sure to die.’ The people will then say, ‘What a marvellous doctor is this, for he tells us before-hand that he knows the patient will die, and will not receive any fees!’ By this means your fame will become great all over the country.

“But if you should not see my shadow at the head of any patient’s bed, then you should prescribe any simple thing which is known to the common people round about, and of course you will know from the absence of my shadow that the patient will get well, and your renown will go on increasing in this way.”

The son listened to this counsel, and, thinking for a little, he said, “Very good! I agree,” and it was not long ere he began to practise his profession amongst men. True enough, in an incredibly short space of time his fame became noised abroad, and he found himself in an extensive practice.

One day it happened that the Nawab of the country where he was, had a near relation very ill, and hearing of the skill of this doctor, he sent off servants and horses and carriages to bring the doctor in great pomp to the Palace.

Thither he went without delay, and he was received by the Nawab at the door of the Palace, and after they had partaken of sherbet and had smoked a “hookah,” the Nawab showed the way to the room where the sick relative was.

The Hakīm, or doctor, followed very thoughtfully and anxiously, and he kept cogitating to himself, “I sincerely hope that my father’s shadow will not appear to-day over the bed-head of this most important patient, for it is everything to me that it should not, and that the patient should recover.” He was taken along passages and corridors, and at last they reached the room where the sick man lay, and to his horror there was the shadow and no mistake, and he almost collapsed on the spot.

After sitting a while near the patient, feeling his pulse and asking questions in the usual way, he requested all persons to quit the room, in order that he might be alone with the patient for a little while.

All this time he was thinking to himself how he could possibly expel and get rid of the shadow, this father’s “shadow” which now stood between him and his fortune; when all of a sudden the thought rushed in upon him, “I know what I will do!” So raising his voice to its highest pitch he shrieked out, “Father! Father! Mother is coming!” Whereupon the “shadow” vanished with one rapid jump, and never again returned.

As the tale runs, the patient got quite well very shortly after this, and the Hakīm was advanced to high honour and position in the dominions of the Nawab.

---------------------

EXPLANATORY NOTES.

“_Shāitān._”—From the Hebrew word “Shuttun,” to be hostile; hence the Arabic “Shāitān,” opposition. According to Mahomedan tradition, he has four lieutenants, viz., Muleeqa, Hamoos, Nabloot, and Yoosoof.

By some he is known as “Iblis” from the Arabic word “despair,” and the wife of a “Shāitān” would be termed “Bhutnī” in Sanscrit. In Persian the leader of evil is called “Ahurmun,” (Burhān-i-kāti), or the evil principle.

Crooke classes “Shāitān” with Jinn, or Genii. Divided into the Janii, who are the least powerful of all, the Jinn, the “Shāitān” or devils, the “Ifrit” and the “Marīd,” or rebellious ones, the last of whom rule the rest, Jan is sometimes identified with the Serpent, and sometimes with “Iblis,” which has been imported direct from the Greek “Diābolos.” Some have wings and fly; others move like snakes and dogs; others again like men. (Vide “Folk-lore of Northern India.”)

Dennys, in his “Folk-lore of China,” says that the belief in the existence of demon monsters is in full force in China. One of the Emperors who flourished about A.D. 700, having been taken ill, dreamt he saw a blue half-naked demon coming into his Palace.

He stole the Empress’s perfume bag, and also the Emperor’s flute inlaid with precious stones, and flew off with them to the Palace roof. Suddenly there appeared another blue devil, but of giant stature, wearing a black leathern high boot on one foot, the other being bare, and he had on a blue gown. One arm was like his foot bare, with which he wielded a massive sword. His mouth was like that of a bull. This fierce-looking monster seized the little one, and with a blow made an end of him. The Emperor asked this monster demon what his name was. He said his name was “Tsung Kivei,” and that he was a Colonel Commandant over all imps, ogres, wraiths, hobgoblins, and the like, under heaven. The Emperor was greatly flattered at the visit, and awoke to find his illness gone. He called a painter to paint for him what he had seen, and it was so faithfully executed that he ordered two hundred ounces of gold to be given to him, and that copies of the painting should be distributed through the Empire, so that all the people might know and respect this blue bull-headed demon. To this day he holds a conspicuous place in the temples of the people. According to other tradition the name of the wife of “Shāitān” was Aw-wa, and she bore him nine sons, and their names are given in Burton’s “Arabian Nights,” but as Crooke says, which of these was the worthy of the text does not appear.

“_Tobâh! Tobâh!_”—From the Arabic, meaning penitence; when coupled together it carries the signification of “Oh fie! I promise to sin no more.”

“_Sick room._”—It is usual in the native palaces when anyone is sick to have men waving a fan and a “chauri” over the head, to drive away evil spirits who may be fluttering in the air, as well as to act as a preventive to further disease. They are often seen in the hands of attendants upon the gods. “Chauri” is the Hindustani for a whisk or fly-flapper of hair.

“_Hookâh._”—The Hookâh as shewn in the illustration is the Indian pipe and apparatus for smoking. The tobacco, or in the Hindustani language, the “gurakoo” is put into the tobacco holder or “chillum,” and the smoke is passed through the water in the Hookah and becomes cold and purified. The flexible tube which conveys it to the mouth is called the “naicha,” and the mouth-piece is of silver or amber. Hookhâs were much improved in the reign of Akbar.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

SAKHI, THE GENEROUS MOSLEM.

In a certain village in the Punjâb there lived a long while ago, a very charitable old Mahomedan of the name of “Sakhi,” which being interpreted from the Arabic tongue means “liberal.” This faithful and patient old Mussulman was famed through all the country round for his repeated deeds of charity, and he was visited by many mendicant folk, who profited not a little from his kindness and hospitality.

The result of all this almsgiving was that in the end, he himself became very poor, or as the native translation more nearly renders it, he “became as dry as a fish baked in the sun.”

One day, as the tale goes, two Fakirs, “Kallundars,” or begging monks as they are sometimes called, were on their way to Mecca to perform that pilgrimage which is obligatory on every devout Moslem once in his life, and on their way thither they had to pass through the village in which “Sakhi” resided, so they made up their minds to pay him a visit, and obtain his blessing on their journey.

As they entered the village they accosted the first man they met, and asked him to direct them to the house of the famous “Sakhi.” This man, who was no other than “Sakhi” himself, replied, “The name of names is the name of Allah, and I am named ‘Sakhi.’” Whereupon, according to his custom, he invited them to his abode, and when they entered it they were at once struck with the signs of poverty that were to be seen on every side; the hut, for such it literally was, was almost devoid of furniture, and the place was quite comfortless.

“Sakhi’s” wife rose at their entrance, and he then told her, under a breath, to set food before the travellers, but she replied “You have given all your substance away and nothing is left. ‘Kyâ Kuren!’ she said, or what is to be done?” “Sakhi” replied, “These are holy men and must be entertained, so pray borrow of our neighbours.” “Sakhi” then followed his wife for a brief period, which gave time for the travellers to say one to another, “How poor he is; and though we are hungry let us eat sparingly, and leave some on the dish for him and his family.”

Meanwhile the wife had procured some “ātā,” or flour, and in a short time placed before them some “chapāties,” or thin cakes, and they all began to eat, and “Sakhi’s” daughter had a portion taken to her.

After they had all eaten, the travellers rose to go, and with many salaams, and wishing peace and safety to the house, they were just on the point of starting when “Sakhi” said, “I must go with you a little way to put you on the right road, for there are many cattle tracks about the village, and you might miss your way.” So saying he accompanied them very nearly to the main road, when they finally bid him “adieu,” wondering most of all that though he was so very poor he seemed to be so happy and contented.

“Sakhi” now turned to go back, when to his astonishment he saw a column of smoke ascending from the village, and he quickened his pace, when he met a man running to tell him that his hut had been burnt down, and that both his wife and daughter had perished in the flames.

“Sakhi” on reaching the spot, found this to be only too true, and when he could safely venture near, he saw to his horror, only their charred remains, and at once cried out “It is the will of Allah; he is One, and Mahomed is his prophet. I shall leave this place and go into the City, and seek service under the King.” So off he went on his journey feeling much distressed, but confident that something good would turn up. His way lay through a rather dense jungle where there were in some parts of it, patches of very high grass. In one of these he thought he would rest himself, and as it was time for the mid-day prayer, he performed his regular devotions, and holding out his hands as usual to receive the blessing, he spoke out rather more audibly than he was wont to do, when to his utter amazement he heard a voice calling out, “Rescue us, save us from this misery!” He then groped about in the long grass, and discovered that the sound came from a deep, dry well, and looking down he saw a man in great trouble, who must have fallen in by accident he thought, and then peering closer he descried also a jackal and a snake.

The jackal roared out, “Take me out of this place, and take out the snake, but do not take out this bad man.” “Sakhi” replied with the usual generosity of his nature, “No, if I take out one I shall take you all out.” So saying, he undid his “kummerbund,” or waistband, and finding that it was not long enough to reach to the bottom of the well, he bent his turban on to it, and lowered it down, telling the man to tie his turban on to it also. By this little contrivance he managed to get them all up to the surface in safety. The snake to evince its gratitude, vomited from its mouth a small lump of gold, which Indian snake-charmers quite believe that certain snakes can do; and asking “Sakhi” to follow him, he shewed him some wonderful herbs that would cure most of the ills that flesh is heir to, and which no man was yet acquainted with.

On his return to the well, the jackal expressed his thanks for his deliverance by saying that whenever “Sakhi” was in trouble, if he thought of him, he would come to his relief; “but beware,” he said, “of the man, for he will get you into distress.” The man was not much concerned about thanking “Sakhi,” but as he was very weak and faint “Sakhi” felt for him, and they journeyed on together very leisurely. “Sakhi” found out that he was going to the same city that he had set out for, and that he was in very truth the son of the King. When they neared the city, the Prince said, for such he was of course, “Give me that piece of gold I entrusted to your charge.” “Sakhi” replied, “You never gave me any gold, and how can I return to you what I never received?” “We will see about that,” said the Prince, and they had no sooner entered the streets than the Prince, who was at once recognised by the people, called out to one of the “Burkandâzis” or armed Police, “Seize this man and search him for a piece of gold he has robbed from me.” This they did, the gold was found upon him, and “Sakhi” was taken before the executive, found guilty, and sentenced to the torture peculiar to that country.

This punishment consisted in stripping the body, and placing over it the skin of a newly killed heifer, the head only of the victim being exposed. The prisoner was then put into the hot sun so that the skin might dry upon his flesh and gradually eat into it. “Sakhi” was so treated, and bore all his pains with patience, and recited to himself for his comfort, portions of the Koran which he had committed to memory. He was daily under the charge of a guard, whose duty it was to take him to and from his prison-house, and to watch over him during the day. One day “Sakhi” observed that the sentry was muttering to himself, and apparently in grief, so “Sakhi” asked him what was the matter, and he replied, “Our King is very ill, and none of the doctors can cure him.” “Oh,” said “Sakhi,” “I am a medicine man, and I can cure the King, I do not doubt.” This news soon reached the ears of the people about the Court, and “Sakhi” was taken before the Vizier, and there repeated what he had said to the sentry.

The Vizier ordered that the skin should be taken off “Sakhi” which caused him much physical pain, and indeed could only partially be removed. “Sakhi” was then put into clothes again, and leave was given him to prepare his remedies. “Sakhi” then went at once into the jungle, procured the herbs pointed out to him by the snake, and made from them a draught which he gave to the King. The King believed in his skill, continued to follow the treatment, and in a very short time he became quite cured of the disease from which he was suffering. “Now,” said the King to “Sakhi,” “you have been the means of restoring me to health, and as I made an oath at the point of death, that whoever cured me should have my daughter in marriage, and be possessor of half of my kingdom, so now I shall proceed to keep my word.” The King accordingly commanded that the proper document should be made out, and upon a fortunate day being fixed by the astrologers, the royal marriage was celebrated with every pomp and display. So the poor and patient “Sakhi” was thus greatly rewarded and enriched.

But he was not spoilt by splendour, for he never neglected as the proper hours came round, to say his prayers five times a day, as the custom is of every devout Mahomedan.

The morning prayer was said at the river side, near the Palace, where he prostrated himself in worship on an open green sward.

One morning, the jackal whom he had rescued from the well came to him with a beautiful flower in its mouth, and he said to “Sakhi,” “Take this flower; I found it on this green bank after five Fakirs, or ‘Panj Pir,’ had been worshipping here. It has a most fragrant smell, but one thing I must tell you: let no one know you possess it.” So “Sakhi” thanked the jackal, tied the flower in his waistcloth, and went home.

The perfume of the flower was so strong that his wife at once perceived it, and asked what he had about him that smelt so sweet. “Sakhi” for a long time evaded the question, for he had in his mind the warning of the jackal, but at last, in a weak moment, he drew it from his waistbelt and handed it to his wife, saying, “I have yielded to your entreaties, but you must tell no one else about it.” One day her mother came to visit her, as she often did, and by some accident “Sakhi’s” wife dropped the flower on the floor, which her mother picked up unperceived, and took away with her, when it at once dried up. The wife had no sooner lost the flower than she became depressed and like a mad thing, and at last told “Sakhi” that she should die unless it could be recovered; so distressed indeed was she, that she quite worried him out of his life. “Sakhi,” one morning when he was at his usual place of prayer by the riverside, thought of the jackal, and he was not long before he made his appearance. He then told him all about the flower, and what misery and suffering it had brought upon his wife since the day she had lost it. The jackal remonstrated, and said he could not get another, for it was left on the bank by the five holy men who had never been seen again, but he felt sure that there was some talisman about it. “Sakhi” said, “Oh! If you could only tell me whither they went, so that I might follow them and get them to take the spell off my wife!” The jackal replied, “They dived into that deep pit in the river, that I am sure of, and never rose again.”

Then “Sakhi” bethought him that he would also dive in there at the same spot, and see what fate and fortune might have in store for him.

Thereupon he made a plunge from the bank, and oh! wonder of wonders! He found himself in a glorious place, and mid bowers of bliss, and precious stones shining in every direction, so that he was quite bewildered. This was indeed to him rapture and enjoyment, and while he was trying to collect himself, he felt a touch from someone near, and he recognized the voice of the daughter he had lost in the fire, who welcomed him with all affection, saying, “Mother also is here; I will go and call her.”

So “Sakhi” felt that this was true happiness indeed, to be in such a place with his first wife and daughter, and he decided to remain where he was, and which he now knew must in very truth be the Paradise of Mahomed. Never more did he wish to return to earth again, to be worried by his second wife who was under the spell of that enchanted flower.

And so ends the Story of “Sakhi the Generous,” and may we all learn to bear our troubles with the same patience and resignation that “Sakhi” did.

---------------------

EXPLANATORY NOTES.