When Sultān Shāmsu-d-dīn Bhangra passed away from this fleeting world, on the third day, with the consent of the nobles and the generals, his eldest son, Sikandar Shāh, ascended the throne of Bengal, and spreading the hem of justice and generosity on the heads of the people, proclaimed joyful tidings of peace and security. And deeming it expedient to conciliate Sultān Fīruz Shāh, he sent, in the shape of presents, fifty elephants with sundry rareties. In the meantime, Fīruz Shāh, Emperor of Delhī, in the year 760 A.H. marched* to subjugate the kingdom of Bengal. When he reached Zafarābād,* the rains setting in, the Emperor encamped there, and sent envoys to Sikandar Shāh. Sikandar Shāh was in anxiety about the aim of the Emperor of Delhī, when Firuz Shāh’s envoys arrived. Sikandar Shāh immediately sent his aid-de-camp together with five elephants and other presents, and opened negociations for peace; but these resulted in nothing. After the rainy season was over, Sultān Firuz Shāh marched to Lakhnauti. When the Sulṭān encamped in the environs of Panduah, Sikandar Shāh feeling that he was no match for the Sultān followed his father’s tactics, and entrenched himself in the Fort of Ekdālāh. Firuz Shāh pressed the siege hard. When the garrison was reduced to straits, Sikandar Shāh sending forty elephants together with other goods and presents and numerous rareties, and agreeing to pay an annual tribute, sought for peace. Firuz Shāh accepting these returned to Delhī. After this for some years, Sikandar Shāh with absolute independence gave full rein to enjoyments. And in the year 766 A.H., he built the Adīna mosque;* but before he could finish it, death overtook him, and the mosque remained half finished. Some trace of the mosque still exists in the jungles of Panduah, at a distance of one karoh from the town. The Author of this history has seen it. In truth, it is a beautiful mosque, and an enormous sum must have been expended on its erection. One ought to be thankful for his efforts. It is said that Sikandar Shāh had seventeen sons by his first wife, and by his second wife he had one son, named Ghiāsu-d-dīn, who, in polish of manners and other qualities, was superior to his other brothers, and was proficient in the art of government. Consequently, the first wife kindling the fire of envy and jealousy and wishing the destruction of Ghiāsu-d-dīn, sought for an opportunity to injure him. One day, finding an opportunity, she respectfully placed the hand on her chest, in the presence of the king, and desired to state her object. The king guessing from the manner of the wife said: “Speak out what thou hast to say.” The wife said: “I would submit my prayer, if the king would take an oath to fulfil it and try his best to fulfil it.” The king swore to fulfil it, and indulging in a bit of hyperbole said: “Unbosom the desire that thou hast, and make thy lip the mirror of the dust of thy heart.” The shrewd queen said: “I am in great anxiety, in consequence of the conduct of Ghiāsu-d-dīn. He is scheming to mount the throne, by killing the king and destroying my sons. Although he is in the position of a son to me, and I do not wish that he should be killed, yet as the safeguard­ing of the life of the king is incumbent, you should not let slip from the hand the rein of alertness, but provide previously against any mishap. The best course would be that you should imprison him, or blind his eyes.” The king on hearing this became perturbed, and said, “What is this aim of thine which thou hast mingled with the liquid of my welfare?, and what is this fire of envy that thou hast mixed with solicitude for me? Thou feelest no shame that thou hast seventeen sons, whilst the other frail lady has only this one son. What you do not like for yourself, do not desire unto others.” The queen again anxiously said: “Envy and jealousy have nothing to do with my suggestion. The duty that I thought incumbent upon myself in the interests of thy well-being, I have discharged; after this, my sovereign is at liberty to do what he pleases.” The king putting the padlock of silence on the portal of the tongue, kept quiet, and said within himself, “As Ghiāsu-d-dīn is a dutiful son and possesses capacity for ruling, even if he seeks to take my life, let it be so! Happy it is, if the son is dutiful. But if he is undutiful, may he perish!” After this, he put the reins of authority entirely into the hands of Sultān Ghiāsu-d-dīn. But Ghiāsu-d-dīn, who suspected always the wiles and stratagems of the queen, one day on the pretext of hunting escaped towards Sunārgāon, and in a short time mobi­lising a large army, demanded the throne from his fatlier. Shortly after, in order to wrest the kingdom, he marched with a large army from Sunārgāon, and encamped at Sunārgadhī.* From the other side, the father also with a powerful army advanced. On the next day, on the battlefield of Goālpāra,* both sides marshalling their forces prepared to fight.

Although Ghiāsu-d-dīn had given strict orders to his soldiers and commanders that to the utmost they should capture the king alive, but as fate willed otherwise, Sikandar Shāh was unknow­ingly killed at the hands of one of the commanders of Ghiāsu-d-dīn. Whilst still the slayer was standing at his head, one amongst them seeing Sikandar Shāh killed, enquired as to who had killed him. He said: “I have killed him;” the other man said, “You folt no pity for Sultān Sikandar.” Then both in fright went to Ghiāsu-d-dīn and said: “In case we fear that by restraining our hands, we may be killed, can we kill him?” Ghiāsu-d-dīn said: “Certainly you may kill him,” and after some reflection he said: “Apparently, thou hast killed the king.” The slayer said: “Yes, unknowingly I inflicted a cut with the spear on the heart of the king. Still he has some remnants of life.” Ghīāsu-d-dīn proceeded swiftly, dismounted from the horse, and placed the head of the father on his lap, and tears trickled down his cheek, and he said: “Father, open thy eyes, and express thy dying wish, that I may fulfil it.” The king opened his eyes, and said: “My life’s work is over; the kingdom is welcome to thee.

After he said this, the bird of his soul flew away. Ghiāsu-d-dīn seeing no good in tarrying further, left behind some nobles to attend to the obsequies of his father, and himself rode forward towards Panduah, and ascended the throne. The reign of Sikandar Shāh* lasted nine years and some months. He was a contemporary of the saint ‘Alaul Haq.*

When Sikandar Shāh was laid in the grave, the throne of Bengal received eclat from the accession of Sultān Ghiāsu-d-dīn. First blinding the eyes of his step-brothers, he sent them to their mother, and freed himself from anxiety as to the wiles of his brothers. After this, he commenced dispensing justice, and throughout his life lived at rest and ease. It is related that once Sultān Ghiāsu-d-dīn falling seriously ill despaired of life, and selected three maids from his harem, one named Sarv, the second named Gul, and the third named Lalah, to perform the last bathing ceremony. When God granted him recovery, considering them auspicious he bestowed attentions on them more than before. The other maids from envy used to taunt them about the bathing, so that one day whilst the king was in a jolly mood, they related to him this affair. The king recited the following line—

“Cup-bearer, this is the story of Sarv (the cypress) Gul (the Rose) and Lalah (the Tulip”).

The second line of the verse could not be supplied, and none of the poets attached to court could supply it. Then the king writing this line, sent it with an envoy to Shamsu-d-din Hāfiz to Shiraz. Hāfiz* quickly supplied the next line:—

(“This story relates to the three bathers”). This 2nd line is not devoid of ingenious excellencies, and he sent also another ghazal in his name. The king in return bestowed on him valuable presents. These two lines are from that ghazal:—

(Translation). The parrots of Hindustan shall all be sugar-shedding

In short, Sultān Ghiāsu-d-dīn was a good ruler, and adhered strictly to the injunctions of the sacred law. For instance, it is related that one day whilst at arrow-shooting, the king’s arrow accidentally hit a widow’s son. The widow sought for redress from Qāzi Sirāju-d-dīn. The Qāzi was in anxiety; for if he shewed partiality towards the king, he would be held culpable before the tribunal of God, and if he did not do so, the summoning of the king would be a difficult affair. After much deliberation, he sent a peon to summon the king, and himself sat on the tribunal of justice, placing a whip underneath the masnad. When the Qāzi’s peon reached the palace, finding access to the king impossible, he com­menced shouting out the call to prayer (Azan). The king hearing this untimely call to prayer, ordered the Muaẕẕin (caller to prayer) to be brought to his presence. When the Royal servants carried the latter to the royal presence, the king enquired as to this untimely call to prayer. He (peon) said: “Qāzi Sirāju-d-dīn has deputed me, in order that I may take the king to the tribunal of justice. Since access to the king was difficult, I adopted this device to obtain access. Now get up, and come to the tribunal The widow’s son whom you wounded with an arrow, is the com­plainant.” The king immediately got up, and concealing a small sword under his arm-pit, set out. When he appeared before the Qāzi, the latter not at all paying attention to the king, said: “Consolate the heart of this old woman.” The king consolated her in a way that he could, and said: “Qāzi, now the old woman is satisfied.” Then the Qāzi turning to the old woman enquired, “Have you received redress and been satisfied?” The woman said: “Yes, I am satisfied.”* Then the Qāzi got up in great delight, and showing respect to the king, seated him on the mas­nad. The king drawing out the sword from his arm-pit said: “Qāzi, in obedience to the injunctions of the sacred Law, I have appeared at your tribunal. If to-day I found you deviating by one hair-breadth from adherence to the injunctions of the Law, with this very sword I should have severed your head. God be thanked, that everything has been all-right.” The Qāzi also drew his whip from underneath the mansad, and said: “Sire, if to-day I found thee in the least transgressing the injunctions of the sacred Law, by God, with this very whip I should have turned your back red and black”* and added—

“A calamity had come but has ended well.” The king, being pleased, bestowing gifts and presents on the Qāzi, returned. The king from the beginning had great faith in the Saint Nur Qutubul ‘Alam, and was his contemporary and fellow-student; for both took their lessons from Shaikh Hamīdu-d-dīn* Kunjna­shīn Nagorī. At length, in the year 775 A.H., by the stratagems of Rajah Kāns who was a zemindar in that part, the king was treacherously killed. The reign of Ghiāsu-d-dīn lasted seven years and some months, and according to another account, it lasted sixteen years, five months and three days.*