The poet again proceeds to some historical details.—Misunderstanding between the Sultán and Khizr Khán, and the imprisonment of the latter.—The cause was this: the Sultán being ill of fever, Khizr Khán made a vow that, in the event of his recovery, he would proceed bare-footed on a pilgrimage to some shrines. When the Sultán recovered in some degree, Khizr Khán set out on his expedition to Hatánpúr, but in consequence of his feet getting blistered he was persuaded by his attendants to mount on horseback. Amír Khusrú here observes that when the prince had such a spiritual teacher as Nizámu-d dín Aulyá, he should have performed his pilgrimage to him, and not have sought out other shrines; that it was to this that his ill-fortune is to be ascribed. Malik Káfúr, the eunuch, was not slow to take advantage of this indiscretion of the Khán, and represented that this non-fulfilment of his vow was a personal insult to the Sultán.
The Sultán first wreaked his vengeance on the Khán's maternal uncle and father-in-law, Alp Khán, who was assassinated in Dehli by his orders. He then caused an angry letter to be written to his son, telling him not to return to his presence without orders, and assigning Amroha to him as a residence, and the country from the Ganges to the foot of the hills as his hunting-ground, where game was so plentiful that “he might kill ten antelopes with one arrow.” He was directed to remain there for two months, after which he would be summoned, when the king had recovered his composure. Meanwhile, he was to send back the royal insignia he had received, the canopy, dúrbásh, standards, and elephants, which would be retained by the king until he had again restored the Khán to his good graces.
This farmán was sent by an ugly courier called 'Ambar, who brought it in one night from Dehli to beyond Meerut, where the Prince was encamped. The Prince was deeply afflicted at the contents, but returned the royal insignia under the charge of Malik Hisámu-d dín, while he himself, with tears in his eyes, crossed the Ganges and went to Amroha.
He had only been there two or three days, when his agitation was so great that, without a summons, he determined to return to his father, who, being on the point of death, received him kindly, his affection for him having revived in this extremity. Malik Káfúr, again successfully practising his wiles, persuaded the Sultán that till his recovery it would be wise to confine the Khán in the fort of Gwalior. The Sultán consented, but bound Káfúr by solemn oaths not to attempt the life of the Prince, who was accordingly carried off from Dehli to Gwalior in two days. There his faithful Dewal Rání became the companion to and solace of his miserable imprisonment.
'Aláu-d dín, partly through bodily infirmity and partly through mental distress, died on the 7th Shawwál, 715 H. (Jan., 1316 A.D.), when Malik Káfúr placed the king's youngest son, Shahábu-d-dín 'Umar, upon the throne, and despatched Sumbul to Gwalior to blind Khizr Khán. When Sumbul had completed his inhuman deed, he was promoted to the office of Náíb-hájib.
A short time afterwards, the slaves and guards of the late king slew Malik Káfúr, and conveyed the intelligence to Khizr Khán, to show that the curse that he had pronounced against Káfúr had been fulfilled.
Kutbu-d dín Mubárak Sháh then ascended the throne in the beginning of 716 H. (1316 A.D.). After displacing his brother, 'Umar, he sent to demand Dewal Rání from his brother Khizr Khán, who returned an indignant refusal. Vexed at this opposition, and determined to rid himself of all rivals, the wretch Mubárak Sháh sent a ruffian named Shádí to Gwalior, to murder the three princes Khizr Khán, Shádí Khán, and 'Umar. After this butchery had been committed, the garrison violated the ladies of their households. The devoted Dewal Rání, in clinging to the body of her husband, was wounded in the face and had her hands cut off by the assassins. Not long after the murder of the princes, the villains went into the zenána and murdered all the females. All the members of the royal family were buried in the Bijymandar bastion of the fort of Gwalior. The conclusion.
“Prince Khizr Khán then ordered a confidential servant to place me near the narrative of his love, without attracting the attention of the bystanders. When my eyes fell on the heart-exciting tale, tears fell from them involuntarily. I immediately assented with all my heart, to the wish of the prince, the apple of the eye. My head was exalted by the honour of my selection, and I retired with the narrative in my hand.”
“When I came to examine it from beginning to end, I found most of the names (words?) in it were Hindí. I pondered a long time with myself how I might join the coarse cloth with the fine, but as some kind of junction was requisite, I thought that no wise man would regard a necessity as a fault. But I was in error, for if you ponder the matter well, you will not find the Hindí words (language) inferior to the Pársí. It is inferior to the Arabic, which is the chief of all languages. The prevalent languages of Ráí and Rám, I know, from reflecting well on the matter, to be inferior to the Hindí. Arabic, in speech, has a separate province, and no other language can combine with it. The Pársí is deficient in its vocabulary, and cannot be tasted without Arabic condiments; as the latter is pure, and the former mixed, you might say that one was the soul, the other the body. With the former nothing can enter into combination, but with the latter, every kind of thing. It is not proper to place the cornelian of Yemen on a level with the pearl of Darí.
“The language of Hind is like the Arabic, inasmuch as neither admits of combination. If there is grammar and syntax in Arabic, there is not one letter less of them in the Hindí. If you ask whether there are the sciences of exposition and rhetoric, I answer that the Hindí is in no way deficient in those respects. Whoever possesses these three languages in his store, will know that I speak without error or exaggeration.
“If I were with reason and justice to speak to you of the merits of Hindí, you would object to what I advance; and if I were to swear to the truth of my assertions, who knows whether you would credit me or not? It is true, I know so little, that my acquaintance with it is but as a drop in the ocean; yet from tasting it, I am well aware that the fowl of the desert is deprived of the waters of the Tigris. He who is far from the Ganges and Hindústán can boast himself of the Nile and Tigris. When a man sees only the nightingale of China in a garden, how does he know what the parrot of Hindústán is? * * * He who has placed only guavas and quinces in his throat, and has never eaten a plantain, will say it is like so much jujube. The Khurásání who considers every Hindí a fool will think even a pán leaf of no more value than grass. A wise and just man, and he who has travelled through several countries observantly, will believe these assertions of Khusrú; for if the conversation should turn on Hind or Rám, he will speak fairly, and not without ground asseverate his own opinion, like the man who said that Basra was superior to Syria. And if any one chooses to speak with partiality, no doubt he will be ready to class my (Indian) mangoes below (foreign) figs. They call Hind black, and that is true enough, yet it is the largest country* in the world. You should look on Hindústán as Paradise, with which it is in fact connected, for, if not, why did Adam and the peacock come to adorn it from that blissful spot?