Bahrám arrived in his territory, and made himself acquainted with all its affairs. It happened that at this time a huge elephant made its appearance in the forest without the city, and so distressed the people that all traffic on the road was put a stop to. The King's men were unable to prevent this, but Bahrám went out against it, and, single-handed, killed it. This exploit being reported to the Ráí, he called Bahrám before him, and asked him who he was, whence he had come, and for what reason he had hitherto kept aloof from him. These questions Bahrám answered by saying that he was a native of Írán, that he had fled thence to save his life, which had been attempted by the king of that country, who for some reason had become inimical to him. On hearing this, Shankal treated him with great kindness and received him into his especial favour. Bahrám remained in attendance upon Shankal, until shortly after a powerful enemy rose up against and threatened the Ráí, who, deeming himself not sufficiently strong to hold his own, wished to submit to, and become a tributary of his invader. This, however, Bahrám would not hear of, but, putting himself at the head of an army, expelled the enemy. This feat made his courage famous throughout Hindustán, and Ráí Shankal, having witnessed his valour, and how by his aid the enemy had been overthrown, loaded him with honours. One day, Bahrám was drinking wine in the company of the Ráí, and having become intoxicated, blurted out the following Persian verses:—
“I am that ferocious lion; I am that huge elephant;
My name is Bahrám Gúr, and my patronymic Bújabala.”*
Shankal heard this, and becoming aware that his friend was Bahrám, he rose up, and leading him into the presence chamber, and kissing the ground before him, excused himself for his apparent neglect, saying, “though greatness is depicted in your countenance, yet I, through my blind folly, have hitherto been wanting in the respect due to so exalted a character. I stand before you stupified, and shall ever bless my fate, if you will but condescend to take up your abode at my residence, and grace my poor house with your august presence. I am altogether and devotedly at your service. Your orders shall be my law, even should you command me to leave my kingdom and become an exile.”
Bahrám answered, “You have nothing to reproach yourself for; you have invariably treated me with the greatest kindness and hospitality, and have done all, nay, more than all, that could be expected. One request I would make of you. You have in your harem a daughter, whose beauty outshines the sun, and whose figure shames the cypress. Give her to me, by so doing our friendship will be more strongly cemented, and you will have laid me under the deepest obligation to you.”
Shankal promptly complied, and gave him his daughter in marriage, and many gifts and presents. He also made such magnificent preparations for the ceremony, that they became the topic of conversation amongst all people. Bahrám, protected by the prestige of his name, returned to Írán. His army and subjects came forth to meet him, and celebrated the joyous occasion by sacrificial offerings, almsgiving, and every sort of festivity. Bahrám, gratified by the delight his subjects showed on his return, gave orders that the taxes of seven years should be refunded to them, and that for the ensuing seven years, all business should be set aside, and the people should give themselves up to complete ease and pleasure.
Accordingly, all devoted themselves to the pursuit of pleasure, and neglected their professions, and trade, and farming; in consequence of which, an utter stagnation of all commerce ensued. No grain was grown—a dearth followed, and the condition of the people was altogether changed. On seeing this, Bahrám directed that the people should divide the day into two portions,—the first half was to be spent in work and business, and the other half in ease and enjoyment. This arrangement being carried out, the time flew by with lightning speed.
Bahrám Gúr, while out hunting, observed a party of shopkeepers diverting themselves in the evening with drinking in a boat without musicians. He asked them why they had no minstrels, and they replied that his Majesty's reign was a happy one for musicians, who were in great demand, and could not be obtained even for a high price. They themselves had offered 100 dirhams, but could not get one. Bahrám said he would consider the matter and provide for their pleasure, so when he got home he wrote off to Shankal requesting him to send a supply of them. Shankal accordingly sent 1000 sweet-voiced minstrels to Persia, there to dwell and multiply. The present Solís are descended from the colony which came over upon this invitation.*
It is related that when Kisrá (Naushírwán) became king and inherited vast possessions, he sent an officer to Hindustán,* entrusting him with the government of that country, and told him that he should rule with equity over the subjects and not distress them by tyranny and injustice, for until the people were made happy, the country could not be populated and his fame would never spread itself over the world. The first object in becoming a king is to obtain a good name. The officer promised to observe these precepts, and accordingly marched towards Hindustán. He had no sooner reached its borders, than he taxed the subjects and demanded one year's revenue from them. He exacted from them one-tenth of their property, and the people finding it too heavy for them to pay, objected, saying that the former kings had exempted them from such a payment, and they could not submit to such a rule. They therefore consulted with each other, and addressed a petition to Kisrá, containing a full representation of the case. Kisrá consequently ordered that it was but proper for them to follow the customs and rules of their forefathers, and any others ought not to be introduced.
Muhammad 'Úfí, the compiler of this work, observes that he never heard a story to be compared with this. He had once been in Kambáyat (Cambay), a city situated on the sea-shore, in which, a number of Sunnís, who were religious, faithful, and charitable, resided. In this city, which belonged to the chiefs of Guzerát and Nahrwála, was a body of Fire-worshippers as well as the congregation of Musulmáns. In the reign of a king named Jai Singh, there was a mosque, and a minaret from which the summons to prayer was cried. The Fire-worshippers instigated the infidels to attack the Musulmáns, and the minaret was destroyed, the mosque burnt, and eighty Musulmáns were killed.
A certain Muhammadan, a khatíb, or reader of the khutba, by name Khatíb 'Alí, escaped, and fled to Nahrwála. None of the courtiers of the Ráí paid any attention to him, or rendered him any assistance, each one being desirous to screen those of his own persuasion. At last, having learnt that the Ráí was going out to hunt, Khatíb 'Alí sat down behind a tree in the forest and awaited the Ráí's coming. When the Ráí had reached the spot, Khatíb 'Alí stood up, and implored him to stop the elephant and listen to his complaint. He then placed in his hand a kasída, which he had composed in Hindí verse, stating the whole case. The Ráí having heard the complaint, placed Khatíb 'Alí under charge of a servant, ordering him to take the greatest care of him, and to produce him in Court when required to do so. The Ráí then returned, and having called his minister, made over temporary charge of the Government to him, stating that he intended to seclude himself for three days from public business in his harem, during which seclusion he desired to be left unmolested. That night Ráí Jai Sing, having mounted a dromedary, started from Nahrwála for Kambáyat, and accomplished the distance, forty parasangs, in one night and one day. Having disguised himself by putting on a tradesman's dress, he entered the city, and stayed a short time in different places in the market place, making enquiries as to the truth of Khatíb 'Ali's complaint. He then learnt that the Muhammadans were oppressed and slain without any grounds for such tyranny. Having thus learnt the truth of the case, he filled a vessel with sea water, and returned to Nahrwála, which he entered on the third night from his departure. The next day he held a court, and summoning all complainants he directed the Khatíb to relate his grievance. When he had stated his case, a body of the infidels wished to intimidate him and falsify his statement. On this the Ráí ordered his water carrier to give the water pot to them that they might drink from it. Each one on tasting found that the vessel contained sea water, and could not drink it. The Ráí then told them that he had felt unable to put implicit confidence in any one, because a difference of religion was involved in the case; he had himself therefore gone to Kambáyat, and having made personal enquiries as to the truth, had learnt that the Muhammadans were the victims of tyranny and oppression. He said that it was his duty to see that all his subjects were afforded such protection as would enable them to live in peace. He then gave orders that two leading men from each class of Infidels, Brahmans, Fire-Worshippers,* and others, should be punished. He gave a lac of Bálotras* to enable them to rebuild the mosque and minarets. He also granted to Khatíb four articles of dress.* These are preserved to this day, but are only exposed to view on high festival days. The mosque and minaret were standing until a few years ago. But when the army of Bálá* invaded Nahrwála, they were destroyed. Sa'íd Sharaf Tamín rebuilt them at his own expense, and having erected four towers, made golden cupolas for them. He left this monument of The Faith in the land of Infidels, and it remains to this day.