Atuji Takes up the Narrative Again, and Completes
the Story of Sayyid Abbas
Sayyid Abbas was in his sixteenth year when
he had to leave school. What happened was this: Do you remember Zubaida
Khatun's paternal uncle, Khwaja Kumail, whom I mentioned earlier, and
who at the age of thirty or thirty-five had left his job in Delhi and
disappeared, and from whom there had been no news for years and years?
Well now, at long last, news arrived that his son, Khwaja Huzail, had
turned up in Aurangabad, in the Deccan. There was no way to verify this
information, but upon hearing it, Zubaida Khatun became very distracted.
People tried every means they knew to convince her that it was unreasonable
to place much credence in such reports; but after all, blood is thicker
than water. So she decided that she had to send Sayyid Abbas to Aurangabad.
The entire clan assembled and tried to convince her that sending a fifteen-year-old
stripling so far away on such an errand was inappropriate, but Zubaida
Khatun was adamant and said:
"This is a good opportunity for him to
travel. If this question had not arisen, I would have found another
occasion to send him away, so as not to keep him at home. A man cannot
attain true cultivation by remaining within the walls of his native
city. I am certainly sorry about his leaving school, but from other
points of view, the trip is very worthwhile. After all, seeing the world
is the best education a person can get. Consider it as if I were taking
him out of one school and sending him to another, much greater one."
So saying, she began to make preparations for
his trip. In a few days, his baggage was packed and the boy set off.
Ghulam Imam, his nursemaid's boy, and Islam Beg, the sharp-shooter,
went along with him. When they left, she said:
"If Khwaja Huzail has left Aurangabad and
gone somewhere else, you should look for him in those other places as
well. Wherever you find him, bring him back here immediately."
And so Sayyid Abbas went to Aurangabad. The
three men went to a serai/1/
to stay, and started inquiring about Khwaja Huzail in the town. After
a few days, they found out that a person by that name had been there,
but he had left with a caravan of hajj/2/
pilgrims about three weeks earlier. Hearing this, Sayyid Abbas also
decided to go on hajj. So, keeping only their cash and necessary
clothing, plus one horse and gun apiece, they auctioned off the rest
of their baggage and set off for Bombay. When they set out, they calculated
that six or seven months remained before the hajj season, so
Sayyid Abbas said:
"Brothers! Even if we have to go out of
the way a few hundred miles, let us, while we're at it, visit the larger
towns a bit away from the route. God only knows if we'll have a chance
to come this way again. God willing, we will meet up with Mamun Jan/3/
sometime during the hajj pilgrimage."
So he and Ghulam Imam and Islam
Beg left the Bombay road and went off to the left and traveled the whole
day in that direction. Towards evening, they came to a village and stopped
there. For a month or two they proceeded in this way, going now right,
now left, and when they had had their fill of this wandering, they again
took the road to Bombay. On this road, a strange event occurred. For
two or three days, they had been traveling along with a river flowing
on their left. They had to cross it to reach their destination, but
they found no place to cross. As they rode along the river bank one
afternoon, the ground began to get soft: on top, the ground looked dry,
but wherever the horses put their feet, it was wet and muddy. They didn't
think anything of it and proceeded without a worry. Suddenly, Sayyid
Abbas's horse got its feet stuck in the mud. Since the horse was very
strong, it lunged out and proceeded, but it was even more swampy ahead.
This time the horse sank in up to its knees. Islam Beg and Ghulam Imam
saw it and stopped where they were. Sayyid Abbas's horse lunged out
a second time and, flailing with all four feet, landed eight to ten
paces away. This time, however, it got completely stuck. They realized
they probably couldn't get the horse out, as it was stuck fast and sinking
in the quicksand, but they must try to save Sayyid Abbas. The two servants
told Sayyid Abbas not to worry, and hastened to a village that they
could see a short distance ahead. When they reached the village, they
gathered several men plus some rope and bamboo poles, and took them
back to the swampy spot along the river bank. But they could find neither
Sayyid Abbas nor his horse. Some of his clothes and baggage were scattered
here and there, but there was no sign of their owner. The two men searched
high and low, but the men from the vicinity asked them:
"What are you looking for? Just leave your
friend behind. We have never yet seen anyone come out of this quicksand
alive. You may rest assured that the horse and rider will stay right
here. We told you back at the village that by the time we returned here,
there would be no sign of them."
Hearing this, the two men went out of their
minds with grief. Islam Beg retained some semblance of composure, but
Ghulam Imam, who, after all, was just a lad, broke down completely.
He sobbed so uncontrollably that he fainted, so Islam Beg had to pick
him up and take him to the village. There, he returned to his senses
somewhat, but he was still inconsolable. He would remain quiet for an
hour or so, but then would think about Sayyid Abbas again, and again
be beside himself. Islam Beg, on the other hand, was worried about how
he could ever go and face the Begam Sahib/4/
again. To make a long story short, the following day the two men abandoned
all their remaining goods with the villagers, and left the place, taking
nothing with them. In shame and penance, they decided to abandon their
homes and families and spend the rest of their lives as wandering faqirs.
They spent a whole year wandering about in this fashion, until one day
they chanced upon a caravan of hajj pilgrims, and they traveled
with them for the next three months. When they had completed the hajj
and other pilgrimages, they decided they would go to Turkey and spend
some time there. They didn't have a penny to their names; but, trusting
in God to help them survive, they started off. On the way they had tremendous
difficulties, but finally, somehow, they reached Istanbul. They stayed
there for three or four months, and although they had no friends in
the city, they nevertheless became so fond of it that they didn't want
to leave.
One day, the two were wandering about aimlessly
in the bazaar when they saw a young man riding on an Arabian horse,
coming toward them. When he came closer, he leapt down from his horse
and, giving the horse to his groom, ran up and embraced them. This young
man looked just like Sayyid Abbas, but how could that be? How did he
get there? Finally, they asked his name, and he confirmed that
he was indeed Sayyid Abbas. The two started weeping and carrying on,
but Sayyid Abbas at last calmed them and took them to his house. The
dwelling which he showed them was a very wealthy establishment: There
were four horses tied up in the stables, several carriages, and a staff
of servants each doing his job. The living quarters were grand and formal,
with tables, chairs, couches, curtains, chandeliers, lamps, everything!
They were astonished and wondered whether they were awake or dreaming.
In sum, the first thing they asked him upon seeing all this was:
"How did you get out of that quicksand?"
Sayyid Abbas then told them this story:
When you rode away to the village to get help,
my horse was sinking rapidly into the quicksand. When he had sunk in
up to his chest, I realized that there was no hope for him and that
in a few minutes I too would be stuck. I had to get myself off his back
somehow, but I knew that if I stepped into the bog, I would stay there
forever. So I untied whatever baggage I had with me and threw it up
on dry land. Then, taking my gun in hand, I slipped gently oft the horse's
back and lay out on top of the bog with my arms spread-eagled. That
way, my weight was not concentrated in one spot but distributed broadly.
It was some twenty-five or thirty feet over to the solid ground where
you had stopped your horses. I kept my arms spread and slowly worked
my way across to the dry land, but in between, if I paused for even
a second, I started to sink. But God granted me the agility to escape
from there. By the time I reached solid ground, my clothes were plastered
with mud. I decided, while waiting for you to return from the village,
to go take a bath. So leaving my baggage to its fate and taking my gun
in hand, I went to the river bank to wash my clothes and bathe.
When I got to the river, I noticed that the
ground fell away at that point, and for that reason the river was flowing
noisily and rapidly, and thus I might risk being washed away. But the
confidence of youth misled me. I said to myself that I knew how to swim
very well, so that even though the water might flow rapidly for a mile
or so, thereafter I could get out of it. Thinking that God wouldn't
let me drown, I jumped into the water with my clothes on. But the torrent
was so strong that I was virtually knocked unconscious and carried along
for seven or eight leagues Finally, when the current let up a bit and
my self-possession returned somewhat, I found that the opposite bank
was quite near. I climbed out on the bank, thanking God for saving me
from two calamities in one day. But then the thought occurred to me:
How was I ever going to get back to rejoin you? I didn't have enough
strength left to swim across the river again, and there was no bridge
in sight. I sat there wondering what to do while my clothes dried, and
then I went along the bank looking for a boat, but I couldn't find one
anywhere. Discouraged, I went that evening to a village a couple of
miles away and spent the night there. In the morning, I got up and again
went to the river bank. Asking for God's help, I jumped into the water
once again. Fortunately, the current was not as strong there, nor the
river as broad, and so I was able to reach the other bank, but I was
still miles from where I had left you. The torrent had carried me some
nine to ten leagues, and I had walked another five to seven leagues
looking for a boat./5/
At any rate, by walking from early morning until about 5:00 in the afternoon,
I reached the place, and looked for you everywhere. When I didn't find
you, I looked for our baggage, but I didn't find that either. Then I
went down to the river bank where I had gone to wash my clothes, and
there I found my gun, right where I had left it. I picked it up and
went to the village where you had gone running for help. From the people
there I learned that you had indeed spent the night there, but they
had no idea where you had gone. I spent several days looking for you
in that region, but when I found no clue, I gave up in despair and went
to Bombay.
You realize, of course, that other than the
few rupees I had in my pocket, I had no money, since all the other cash
I had had disappeared with my baggage. All I had was myself, my gun,
and God's assistance. But God favored me, and I didn't have to beg from
anyone. With the few rupees I had, I had two sets of clothes made and
bought some bullets, small shot, gunpowder and percussion caps, and
a couple of flint stones. I took along some salt and purchased a knife,
and whenever I got hungry on the road, 1 would kill a small animal and
make kababs from it. In the evenings, if I found myself near a village,
I would stay there; if not, I did not worry. I even stayed in the jungle
every now and then.
Finally, one way or another, I reached Bombay.
There, since I had no more money and had to incur some expenses, and
since my powder and shot were used up, I sold my gun for fifty rupees
and went and stayed in a rented room. I had a couple of fine suits of
clothes made, and engaged a servant. After thus improving my appearance,
I started meeting the best people in Bombay. There was a very rich Yemani
merchant there by the name of Shaikh Faruq, whose great learning and
rectitude were justly renowned. In the course of events, I went to see
him. He showed me great consideration, and when I took my leave, he
stressed that as long as I stayed in the city, I should come and visit
him often. He also asked me where I lived. That evening, much to my
surprise, one of his men arrived, bringing a servant carrying a tray
of food on his head. He had enquired in the locale, found the place
where I lived, brought the food, and had the man serve me. When he left,
he said that as long as I stayed in the city, they would have food cooked
and sent to me twice daily. Seeing that the Shaikh extended such great
courtesy to me, I felt obliged to visit him daily.
The next day when I went there, it so happened
that he was sitting with three emerald signets in his hand and was asking his
darogha: "Who is the best stone engraver around?"
I asked: "What do you want to have engraved?"
He replied: "I have just received these
three stones from Zabid. The man who sent them is named Hasan and he
has two younger brothers named Muhsin and Ahsan, and he wants to have
their three names engraved on the three signets. Recently, a great calligrapher
from Iran was visiting Zabid, so Hasan had him write their names. He
has sent the calligraphy in order to have the gems engraved exactly
according to that pattern."
I said: "Then you should call an engraver
and show it to him."
He sent his darogha to call an engraver
and showed him the pattern. At first he said no, that he could not engrave
such letters. But then he proposed:
"If you give me one ashrafi/6/
per letter, I will undertake to do the best I can."
The merchant asked: "You won't take any
less?"
The engraver replied: "If you give me even
one rupee less per letter, I cannot guarantee that the gems will not
be spoiled. The result will be entirely at your own risk."
So, no deal was struck. When he had left, I
asked the Shaikh's man if there were no other engravers in the area.
He said: "Sahib! There is none better than
he in the entire city. However, there is a Kashmiri who came here a
few days ago, and I have heard very good things about him. If you say
so, I'll go get him."
I said: "Kashmiri stone engravers are famous
the world over. By all means, have him come, as he surely must be a
master of his art."
The servant left to go get him, and I picked
up the paper and took out a knife and scratched off the dots from the
nuns in the three names of the pattern. Then I took a pen and added
other dots to the letters. In place of Muhsin, I produced "Machash,"
and in place of Hasan, "Chash," and in place of Ahsan, "Achash."/7/
The Shaikh, seeing me do this, was very upset
and said: "Good heavens! What have you done?"
I said: "I haven't changed the letters
at all, I have simply changed the dots. But I am your guest, so you
must forgive whatever I do."
He laughed and said: "Tell me the truth
now, what are you up to?"
I said: "Let the engraver come; you will
soon see what it is all about."
The engraver picked up the paper on which the
calligraphy pattern was written and looked at it carefully for some
time, but he couldn't understand it. He then looked at the three stones
and again at the pattern. He was indeed a great master of his art, for
in looking at the calligraphy pattern, he said that the letters were
certainly written by some renowned calligrapher, but the dots did not
look as if they were from the same hand. Finally, he also asked one
ashrafi per letter for what we asked him to do.
I said: "If each letter is worth an ashrafi,
then each dot must be worth at least a rupee."
He said: "Can there be any doubt about
it? Putting in the dots properly is no laughing matter!"
I said: "If we subtract some dots from
the pattern, will you deduct that many rupees from the price?"
He thought I was joking, so he said: "Of
course."
I said: "Fine! Now, count the letters in
those three names and take the stones and the pattern, but don't engrave
any dots for the moment. In those three names there are eighteen
dots; any one that we subtract will be a rupee off your total fee."
He said: "Very good"; and taking the
three stones and the pattern with him, he went away.
When he had gone, I said to the Shaikh: "There
you are, Sir! In erasing those three dots, I have saved you four ashrafis!"
He asked: "How so?"
I said: "By taking the dot out of the nun
in each of those names, I subtracted one letter from each name, thereby
saving you three ashrafis. Now, when he brings back the work,
we will ask him to put one dot in each name, in the vicinity of the
shin,/8/
and the value of the remaining fifteen dots, or fifteen rupees, can
be subtracted from the fee. So the original fee you would have had to
pay was eleven ashrafis, but now you will have to pay only
seven."
The Shaikh is as generous as he is wealthy.
He couldn't have cared less about my saving him the money, but he certainly
enjoyed the stratagem. In addition, by God's grace, I was able to suggest
something else to him which also turned out to be profitable, and which
indeed pleased him very much. It happened this way: His firm often received
shipments of cloth from England. If the cloth could be sold at a satisfactory
margin of profit in Bombay, the entire shipment would be sold; but if
not, he sent the ships to Calcutta where the goods could be sold more
advantageously. At about this time, news of a shipment was received.
The manifest had already arrived, but the ship itself had not yet reached
the port. A great many buyers were anxious for the goods and were willing
to pay a premium of one anna to the rupee, but the Shaikh said he wouldn't
take less than two annas to the rupee.
I said: "But that is outrageous! You should
consider the smaller profit adequate. The goods are still at sea, and
God only knows what might befall. In my opinion, you should be satisfied
with a bit less profit."
Even though it wasn't to his liking, he listened
to what I had to say; and out of consideration for me, he sold the shipment,
making only one anna to the rupee. The shipment included some 50,000
rupees worth of cloth, which meant some 3000 rupees worth of profit.
Everyone was satisfied with the rate, and the entire shipment was sold
off to the buyers. Then, news came that the ship had sunk four days
after leaving Aden. The crew was able to escape in lifeboats, but all
the cargo had been lost. Hearing the news, the Shaikh was very sorry
for the buyers, but naturally he was pleased that he had lost nothing.
When the news arrived, I happened to be at his
place and he said to me: "My good sir! This is all the result of
your advice!"
Hearing this, I was terribly ashamed and I said:
"That is absolutely true! I had a revelation that the ship would
sink after leaving Aden! Sir, spare me! It was God's will that you would
lose nothing in this transaction. Even if I had not so advised, you
would doubtless have done the same thing yourself. Crediting me for
this is totally unreasonable! Whatever profits and losses befall a man
are entirely decreed by God, so to attribute His work to one of His
servants is a great mistake."
My reply increased his regard for me. About
this time also, someone wrote to him from England asking who was responsible
for the greatness of India: Was it the result of the British government's
policies, or because of the actions of Indians? He asked me to draft
a reply and sent it off. My answer was in just the right tone, so it
pleased him; and it was also well-received in England and praised in
the newspapers.
To make a long story short, I stayed in Bombay
for about four months. The season for the hajj pilgrimage came
during the fifth month. When I went to the Shaikh to take my leave,
he asked me: "After the hajj, where do you intend to go?"
I said: "I had thought about going to Turkey
. "
He gave me 10,000 rupees and bid me farewell.
From there, I first went to Mecca and spent a month there. After the
hajj, I went to Medina on pilgrimage, and spent a little over
a month there. I also finally met Mamun Jan/9/
there.
Ghulam Imam interjected: "Where is he now?"
Sayyid Abbas replied: "He is here. Right
now he has gone to the bazaar, but he will be back in an hour or so."
He then resumed his story:
From there, Mamun Jan and I came to Istanbul.
When we arrived, we heard that a position of translator in the Sultan's
household had been open for several years, and that the salary was 2000
rupees per month. I asked people: "Why has the position remained
unfilled for so long?"
They said: "One of the conditions attached
to the job is that the candidate should know at least five languages.
Those five are: Turkish, Arabic, Persian, English, and French."
Hearing that, I started to study Turkish. In
six months, working day and night, I was able to attain fluency in speaking,
and I could also claim to be fairly good in writing it. I also studied
French for four or five months, but that is not a language that one
can learn in a short time. So, asking God's help, I applied for the
position, saying that I could pass the examination in four of the languages,
but in French, although I knew it somewhat, I could not pass an examination
at the moment. I requested, therefore, that they examine me in the languages
which I knew, and consider me as a candidate for the post, pending my
passing the examination in French, for which I requested a postponement
of six months. I took my application to the court, it was granted, and
after passing the examinations, I was appointed to the post. I have
not yet taken the French examination, and for this reason I am not yet
receiving the full salary. With God's help, I will be able to surmount
that obstacle as well. A month or more remains before the six months
are complete, then the French examination will take place.
Ghulam Iman and Islam Beg, hearing this story,
were so delighted that they forgot all about the difficulties of their
voyage and the trauma of their separation. They gave thanks to God for
his bounty and praised Him, saying: "Great Lord! If you had not
exonerated us, we would not have been worthy to return to our families
and show our faces. You brought us into the world, and you have heard
the prayers of our sorrowful hearts!"
After this, Ghulam Imam said: "But tell
me, Sir! Did Begam Sahib send you off so that you could take your uncle
with you to Istanbul, there to pass exams and take up employment?"
Sayyid Abbas launghed and said: "I am undoubtedly
guilty of exceeding her orders, but I sincerely hope that my mother
will forgive me. I now intend to write to her telling her everything
that has happened and sending her money for the trip, so that she can
come here too. I know that she has wanted to perform the hajj
pilgrimage for a long time, and this is the ideal occasion for her to
do so. But you two gentlemen must want to return to India, and I am
certain that Mamun Jan will want to accompany you."
They said: "We have no objection. We are
ready to go when you say the word."
To make a long story short, after two months,
Sayyid Abbas sent Islam Beg and Ghulam Imam and Khwaja Huzail back to
India. They then took Zubaida Khatun with them from Delhi to Arabia.
First they performed the hajj and then they made a pilgrimage
to Medina, and from there they proceeded to Istanbul. A few days after
Zubaida Khatun arrived there, Sayyid Abbas was married to the daughter
of a great nobleman, and they all decided to live there.
That is the end of the story. God grant to every
child a mother like Zubaida Khatun, and to every mother a child like
Sayyid Abbas. Amen.
= = = = = = = = = = =
/1/ serai
or caravanserai: A hostelry for travelers, merchants, and their goods
and animals.
/2/ hajj:
The annual Muslim pilgrimage to Mecca.
/3/ Mamun Jan:
Sayyid Abbas calls Khwaja Huzail his maternal uncle, though, strictly
speaking, the Khwaja is his mother's cousin.
/4/ That is, Zubaida
Khatun.
/5/ league or kos:
a measure of distance roughly equal to two miles or three kilometers. Sayyid
Abbas was washed downstream some twenty-five kilometers and walked another
fifteen or twenty.
/6/ ashrafi:
A gold coin, the equivalent of 15 rupees.
/7/ To explain
this procedure, it is necessary to reproduce here what Sayyid
Abbas did. Muhsin is written: mu;hsin . Removing
the dot in the nuun (the letter "n")
and adding other dots, he produced machash . Similarly,
;hasan became chash and
a;hsan became achash . He thereby made
three proper names into nonsense syllables, but there was method in
his madness.
/8/ shiin:
The letter "sh" in the Arabic alphabet.
/9/ Khwaja Huzail,
son of his mother's uncle.