There lived once in the Punjaub many years ago an old Seikh soldier who had gained much renown amongst his fellow-countrymen for the many acts of bravery he had shown in the tribal wars that in those days used often to take place between the chieftains of the various independent states thereabout. We all know that the Seikhs belong to a sect whose founder was one “Nanak,” who lived in the beginning of the sixteenth century, and that the word Seikh means in the Sanscrit language a “disciple.”

This old soldier had for his first name the distinguished appellation of “Bahadur,” which in the Persian language means “brave,” so he was brave by name as well as by nature.

At the time the incident occurred which I am now about to relate to you all, he had retired from active service and had settled down on a small competence for a native, in the village of Shumshabad.

In this village, as indeed may be found in many towns and villages of Upper India, there was a little colony of blind men who subsisted on the alms of the benevolent, and they were generally to be found near the markets or bazaars, or along the thoroughfares leading to them. They had moreover, a little settlement of their own situated on the confines of the town.

One of these blind men at Shumshabad, a wizen-faced, attenuated, old fellow, clad in poor garments, and wearing a “Kummul,” or native blanket, thrown about him, used to sit daily by the wayside begging, and ever in the same spot. This old blind man had the habit of calling out in a piteous tone, “Friends have pity on the blind, and let him only feel and handle a hundred gold mohurs and he will be made happy for ever.”

Now, as few people who passed that way had even one coin of that value, his wish never seemed likely to be gratified, but he made a pile of money for all that, as the sequel of the story will show.

Bahadur Singh used to hear this plaintive cry almost daily when he went to the Bazaar, and being kind as well as brave, he often thought to himself, I should much like to satisfy that old blind man’s wish, but I suppose I shall never be able to do so, for the little I have scarce supplies my own daily wants; so he contented himself, with others round him, in casting a pice into the blind man’s wallet.

Months, nay years had passed by, when Bahadur Singh had occasion to visit a sister who resided at some little distance from Shumshabad, on the high road to Jhelum.

Upon his return he stopped to rest near a Tank, as natives often do, and upon the bank his eye caught sight of a small dark object, and when he had picked it up he found it was very heavy. His curiosity was now greatly aroused, and what was his surprise on opening it, but to discover that it was full of gold mohurs, and when he had counted them over, lo, and behold! there were exactly one hundred.

He was in quite a whirl of delight, and one might have thought that he would have kept the money and not have disclosed the secret to anyone, but as there were just the very one hundred gold mohurs that by their feeling and handling might make the old blind man of his village happy for ever, the first idea that entered his head was to go straight to the spot where he knew he always asked for alms, to let him run his fingers over them.

So without any further ado off he went, and upon reaching the old blind man who was calling out in his usual strain; Bahadur Singh said, “Here, good old man, this is a lucky day for you, for I have brought you one hundred gold mohurs to feel, and to handle, and to be happy for ever.”

Whereupon Bahadur Singh handed the gold mohurs one by one into the old blind man’s hand, and he handled them and put them one by one into his wallet, repeating after every one, “Oh! you blessed and good man.” By the time the whole hundred had been counted out a very considerable crowd began to collect, so that Bahadur Singh thought it better to recover his money and be off. He then asked the old blind man to give it back to him, but who would have thought it? the old villain set up quite another cry, howling, and saying at the top of his voice, “Friends, help me; help the poor blind man who is being robbed of his little all!” And laying fast hold of Bahadur Singh’s “dhotee” or cloth, he made it appear as if some of his money had already been robbed from him.

Of course the crowd took the side of the blind man, so it was all in vain for Bahadur Singh to try to get a hearing, and more than that, the crowd set upon him, and would have thrashed him unmercifully had he not made his escape, so he hurriedly left the scene and his money too.

But he was in a fearful rage, and vowed he would have his revenge, and going by a back way to his hut (for he found he was being pursued), he reached it unperceived.

Taking down his sword from the wall, he said to himself, “I know the place where the blind men live, and I know too that the old blind villain will be going home about dusk; I will lie in wait for him and cut him down.”

Bahadur Singh’s heart, however, began to fail him, “for,” said he, “Is he not a blind man?” Yet the feelings of revenge had so worked him up, that he was furious at being so cunningly deceived and robbed.

In partial hiding he took up his post by the road-side, and he had not long to wait, for very soon the old blind villain hove in sight, tottering along and leaning on his staff. Bahadur Singh drew his sword from its scabbard and looked first at it, and then at the old blind villain who was drawing nearer and nearer to him.

In an instant the brave feelings of his nature rose uppermost, for was he not Bahadur? and addressing his sword, as the custom of Orientals often is, he said, “Oh! sword! thou hast been with me in many an honourable fight, and shall I now tarnish thy fair fame by using thee thus? No. I ask pardon, and return you to your scabbard without a stain.” And so saying he let the blind man pass.

But he determined upon following him, and if possible, to recover his money; whereupon he crept stealthily behind him and close upon his heels, and when the old blind villain arrived at his hut, Bahadur Singh saw him open the door, and before he had time to close and fasten it from the inside, the brave soldier had managed to slip in too, and quite unheard. Keeping very silent, he watched the old villain take off his “kummul” and his wallet, and then make his way to a corner of the hut. He there took up a tile flush with the floor, and removed from a hole beneath it a “chattie,” or earthenware vessel, in which he was proceeding to put in from his wallet the money he had collected during the day. Bahadur Singh saw his own hundred gold mohurs going in one by one, and then overheard the old blind villain say, “I have done well to day. I have here four hundred gold mohurs, and with this further one hundred, I shall have five hundred gold mohurs, and who so rich as I?” And then he carefully returned the “chattie” and put back the tile, feeling it over and over again to be sure that it was in its right place. He then returned to his “charpai,” or cot, and sat down, apparently to think a bit.

It was now Bahadur Singh’s turn to try his luck at recovering his money; so moving very noiselessly, he crept to the money corner, lifted the tile, took out the “chattie,” and was getting back to a spot he had selected behind the “charpai,” when as ill-luck would have it, he struck against a shelf projecting from the wall, and the noise at once aroused the old blind villain, who rushed to the money corner, only to find that his store had vanished. He howled, he shouted at the top of his voice, he brandished about him his staff, smashing the water-pots, and deluging the hut with water, and it was only by great dexterity that Bahadur Singh could keep behind him, and so avoid coming in contact either with him or his staff.

In a very short time, however, there came a knock at the door, and the old blind villain let in a stranger, who, to Bahadur Singh’s relief, was, he noticed, also a blind man. The stranger called out, “What is all this noise about?” “Hai, Hai! Booh, Booh!” said the old blind villain; all my money is gone, and I am ruined for ever.” “Your money gone” he replied, “How can that be? Where did you put it?” “Here, here,” he said, pulling the stranger to the money corner. “But what a fool you were to keep it there! Why didn’t you do as I always do? When I get enough together to make up a gold mohur I sew it up into my turban.”

Bahadur Singh, hearing this, at once by a quick and quiet movement reached forward and took off the turban of the stranger and put it aside, whereupon the stranger rushed at the old blind villain and said, “Why did you take my turban off and where is it?” “I didn’t,” he replied. “But you must have done so, for there is no one else here, and you want to take my money now, do you?” So saying, he went for the old blind villain, knocked him down on to the slushy floor, and pummelled him until he cried hard for mercy.

Bahadur Singh, with something like a smile at seeing his enemy punished, then quitted the hut, leaving them to fight it out. He took with him the “chattie” and the gold mohurs, and left the turban behind.

He went straight to the village police, told the story, claimed only his own one hundred gold mohurs, and left with them the four hundred belonging to the old blind villain, which were there and then confiscated to the State.

So this old blind villain not only lost his money, but got a terrible thrashing into the bargain, and this tale is often told in the “HÛjrÂhs,” or places of meeting of the village story-tellers, as a capital instance of how best to retaliate, and how cleverly the biter was bit.

EXPLANATORY NOTES.

“Nanak.”—This founder of the religious and warlike commonwealth of the Sikhs is so fully referred to by the able historians, “Hunter” and “Elphinstone,” that there is little new to tell of him beyond the folk-lore of the district to which these tales refer.

He flourished about the end of the fifteenth century, was a disciple of “Kabir,” and was a sort of Hindu deist, with universal toleration to all sects.

He is said to have ridiculed the religious washings and ablutions of the Brahmins by telling his hearers that if water will take you to Heaven, then what holy creatures the fish and frogs must be who are for ever in the water.

The religious divisions of the Sikhs are many, the principal being the Oodhassee, Baydhee, Thayun, Bhullay, Sodhee, Akalis, Nahung, Giannee, Soothra, Ghoee, Bhaie, Nirmale, Naga, Mujbee, or Rung, Raytay, Guru ki betah. In the time of their Gurus, Har Govind and Govind Singh Govind, the Sikhs assumed the title of “Singh,” signifying a champion or lion.

A tale is told in the Hazara district that “Nanak” once went in disguise to Mecca. Absorbed in his reflections, he lay down to rest for the night, and quite forgot that his feet were turned towards the “kaaba,” which is an insult to the Moslems.

He was aroused by a devout follower of the Prophet, and at once taxed with his breach of reverence and respect, and asked who and what he was.

“Nanak” replied,

Another anecdote is given, viz., that when he visited the Chenaab on his way to Multan, he very much enraged some “Jogis,” a description of recluse penitents, who by means of mental and corporeal mortifications acquire the command over the powers of nature, as stated in previous notes.

These men did all they could by their powers of enchantments to terrify him. They assumed the shape of wild beasts and snakes, fell from Heaven in a shower of fire, and tore away the stars.

“Nanak” remained tranquil, and said, “A holy man needs no defence from such things; his defence is in the purity of his doctrine, and though the world may change, the Creator of it is immutable.”

These words brought them to his feet, and caused their miracles and enchantments to cease as if by magic.

“Blind beggar.”—Many of the blind amongst the Mahomedans are styled “Hafiz,” which literally signifies in Arabic those of retentive memory, and who know the QorÂn, or Furkan, by heart: “Furkan” meaning the book which distinguishes truth from falsehood.

These men live upon the alms of the faithful, and on festival days are employed to repeat the QorÂn, being fed from day to day, and at the conclusion of the festival they are presented with a whole suit of clothes, from head to foot.

Occasionally they are known to earn money by lacing “charpais” with string or tape, which is quite an industry with them.

A blind man from the village of “Sheerka” used to be able to wander about in the jungle, and find his way back to his hut. He was familiar with the cries of many beasts and birds, and would imitate them most correctly.

If asked to thread a needle this man would place the needle and cotton beneath his tongue, and in a very short time pass the thread through the eye of the needle.

“Kummul.”—From the Sanscrit word “Kammal,” meaning literally a blanket. It is made of coarse wool, loosely woven and soft in texture; the word in its second signification meaning “soft.” A small blanket is called a “Kumli.” In the winter, farmers and others in the district, wear them over their other clothes.

In days long gone by, when the district was under a native yoke, anyone found wearing a blanket, or as it was then locally called, a “Bhura,” was liable to be pressed to labour for the State; so the farmers had a saying amongst themselves which ran thus:

“Wallet.”—In the original, the word is “Jhuli,” from the Hindustani language. It is carried over the arm by Fakirs and others.

“Sword.”—In the original, “Tulwar,” from the Sanscrit, and sometimes as “Turwar,” a scimitar or sword. It is said that excellent swords used to be made at a place called Bunnu. To be wounded by one of them was thus expressed:

Note.—The natives of the East often worship their swords and weapons, and it is known especially to be common in the Northern districts of India, and also among the Mahomedans in the Malay Peninsula (vide Crooke, and M^cNair’s “Perak and the Malays”, page 247). It is indeed a sort of fetish, and a belief that some mysterious power lurks within them.

In a village in the Jhelum district, there lived a noted ironsmith of the name of Aruf, who was famed for his sword blades, and the blades were termed Arfi, after his name.

Before anyone purchased a sword from him he would take a ramrod from a matchlock, and by a particular cut he would sever it in two, saying, “If it will cut iron, surely it will kill any man.”

He was so proud of his power that his daughter thought to humble him, so she asked if he would demonstrate to her how he made the wonderful cut. He agreed, and she, secreting behind her a small cane sought occasion to balk him. Just as he was making the cut she reached forth the cane, and he missed the correct angle of the cut and failed, “See,” she said, “it is easy to be proud of your sword-blades and to say that they will kill anyone, but how if an enemy should balk you as I have done? Then behold the result!”

In the district they have many kinds of swords, but some of the principal are the “FoulÂdee,” the “TaygÂ,” the “SirÔhhee,” and the “SikaylÂh.” These are all curved in the blade. They have a straight sword which they call a “Saif.”

The “SirÔhhee” is of polished steel, and rather brittle.

Note.—There is a story told in the district that when “thuggism” was at its height, young men used to be decoyed to a retired spot in the jungles, where a most fascinating and beautiful “Thugin” resided. She had a native sort of seat, placed over a deep dry well; and though to all outward appearance it was firm and reliable, yet when any weight was put upon it, it suddenly gave way, and the unfortunate victim was sent to the bottom, where he was afterwards killed and robbed. Part of the proceeds went to the goddess “Kali,” and the remainder was divided amongst the gang.

Once a young Sipahi succeeded in evading the trap, and recovering himself he was attacked on all sides by thugs. Drawing his “SirÔhhee” he made a cut or two at them, but it suddenly snapped in his hand. He was, however, fleet of foot, and managed to escape.

Telling his friends of his adventures, he said, by way of caution,

The scabbards are made from thin wood, and covered with black or green leather. The woods used are sometimes the “Baid,” or willow, and the “Bakayun,” one of the MeliaceÆ of botanists. The hilts are frequently inlaid with gold and silver.

“Bahadur in a rage.”—He was ordinarily a quiet man, and when enraged his anger was relentless, according to their saying:

“Gold Mohur.”—Also called “Ashrufee”—a gold coin worth about fifteen rupees.

“Dhotee.”—Is a Sanscrit word, and is a cloth worn round the waist, and fastened by being tucked in behind, and the appearance becomes that of wide or narrow trousers. One of yellow silk, and made chiefly at Benares, is called a “Pit-ambar,” also from the Sanscrit.

“Kaaba.”—This is referred to under “Nanak” in these Notes, but it should be added, that it is the square building in Mecca, about 35 feet in height, and 40 feet square, making almost a “cube,” which “kabah” means in Arabic. At the S.E. corner of this building is the famous black stone, or “Hajr-as-Saih” set in silver, which has to be touched with the right hand of the pilgrim, but Captain Burton said it was often kissed.

“Kabir.”—Under this same heading also of “Nanak” in these Notes is a reference to this Fakir “Kabir.” The “Kabir-panthi” are a sect of Hindus numerous in Upper and Central India. They have quite a Quaker-like spirit, and have an abhorrence of all violence. Their commandments are limited to Five:

I.—Life must not be violated, for it is the gift of God.

II.—The blood of man or beast must not be shed.

III.—Man must never lie.

IV.—Man must practise asceticism, and do the duties of piety and devotion.

V.—Man must obey the spiritual guide, the great “Kabir,” and sing hymns in his praise.

“Kabir” died at Gorakhpur, and both Moslems and Hindus claimed the right to bury him.