It is related by old historians that this Dalú Rái had a brother called Chhata* Amraní, whom it had pleased God to dispose, from his youth upwards, to virtue. Amrání often remonstrated with his brother against his evil ways, but without success; he, therefore, left his country and applied himself to the study of the Kurán. When, having learned the holy book by heart, he returned to his home, his friends urged him much to marry; but he was displeased with their wicked ways, and therefore refused. His relatives repudiated and derided him, exclaiming that he had turned Turk, that is to say, Musulmán, and would next be going to Mecca to marry the daughter of some great man there. Amrání's star was in the ascendant, and his heart inclined to God, so their taunts took effect on him, and he resolved to proceed to the Kaa'ba. When he reached the place of his destination, he beheld a woman standing with a loaf in her hand. After he had looked at her several times the maiden perceived him and asked him what he sought in that town. He replied that by her means, he hoped to be able to read the Kurán. She told him that the daughter of a certain venerable man was much better acquainted than herself with the holy book, and was in the habit of teaching many young girls, and that if he changed his dress and attended upon her with the girls, he might obtain the wish of his heart. Amrání answered that all would be accomplished through her kindness. He made her a small present, and joined the scholars. After a time he became again perfect in the Kurán, when, one day, a woman came to see the teacher, who was also skilled in astrology. The visitor said: “I have a young daughter whom I wish to marry to a certain person; pray see if the match will prove a happy one; for if not, I will wed my daughter elsewhere.” The fates were consulted, a favourable answer was returned, and the woman departed. Chhata who, in woman's disguise, had been taught by the fair sage, without her knowing his sex, now said that, as she could ascertain other people's destiny, he begged she would also consult the stars on her own account, and find out who should be her husband. “This enquiry,” she replied, “will be very pleasing to me; up to this moment I have never thought of what concerns myself.” The fates were again consulted, and the answer which she delivered was: “a person called Chhata will come from Sind, and I shall be given unto him.” Amrání asked if the person had as yet left Sind, and proceeded towards Mecca or not. She answered, that he had arrived in the city. “Where is he?” “In this house,” was the reply, “and you are he.” Chhata left off questioning and began to read.
The girl informed her mother of these events. The relatives gave their consent, and the two were united. Amrání dwelt there some time, after which he returned to his own country to Páín-wáh where his brother ruled.* Between Chhata and his wife Fátima, in their devotion to God, nothing was concealed, and they looked upon each other with fond affection. One day Chhata's brother sent him away on some business, with the intention of getting a look at his wife in his absence. This virtuous woman was in her bath, and there the wicked man saw her. At the same moment, Fátima and Chhata, who was far away, became cognizant of this fact. Chhata immediately returned, and, abandoning his relatives, left the country with his wife, and proclaimed that whoever remained in the city would ignominiously perish. The very night they left, destruction hovered over the city, but was kept off by the watching of an old widow, who was spinning. The second night they were saved by the watching of Gunígír,* but on the third night, which was the time appointed for the destruction of those wicked people, the whole place was swallowed up by the earth,—men, buildings and all,— the only sign of them left was a minaret, which stands there to this day. Chhata Amrání and his wife Fátima reached in safety the town of Síwistán, which is now known as Síwán. There he passed his days in prayer and worship. When he left this transitory dwelling-place to seek a wished-for and eternal home beyond the chambers of death, as during his life-time, he had performed miracles, and his prayers had been granted, so was it still after his decease. Whoever approached his shrine obtained the wish of his heart. His tomb is to be found in the city of Síwán; many people flock to it on Fridays, and place full belief in its powers.
Be it known to wise and intelligent men who can solve knotty points, that the history of this ignorant Hindu tribe has been related by old chroniclers as follows:—“Every man of them considered himself a chief and leader, but 'Umar Súmra was their ruler. It is not known over how long a period his reign extended, but in all his years this chieftain, unworthy of his sacred name,* practiced unworthy acts. He was in the habit of laying violent hands on the females of his subjects. Among other married women he seized a beautiful woman named Márúí, who belonged to the tribe of the Márúis,* who resided near the forts of 'Umar-kot. She had been betrothed to a person named Phog,* but was, by her parents, when her beauty had developed itself, united to another of her relatives. Phog laid a complaint before 'Umar,—“I have given up all hope,” said he, “of obtaining her, but she is well fitted for your own harem. If you could but once see her, you would never wish to part from her again.” This speech of that dweller in the desert induced the chieftain to change his dress, and to mount an active camel,* fleet as the wind, on which he repaired to the woman's residence. He was captivated at first sight, and remained there some days. At length, finding an opportunity, he placed the woman on his own camel, and returned to the seat of his government. But all praise to the virtue and chastity of Márúí, for though gold and jewels, robes and apparel were offered her, and though she was made to taste of severity and anger, nothing could induce her to listen to his proposals. “In what creed,” said she, “is it considered lawful that we should, for the sake of a little brief authority and worldly riches, which avail us not when all is over, put aside the duty owing to a husband, and thus at last, heap infamy on our heads. The tenderness of her language took effect on the abductor; for a year he detained her and beheld her fidelity. He then sent for her husband and returned her to him, with as much gold and jewels as he could give, and told him of his wife's chastity. Doubt, however, remained in the husband's mind; he kept aloof from her, and constantly addressed reproaches to her. 'Umar was one day informed of this conduct, of the doubts which the husband retained of Márúí's chastity, and the disgrace which was thus reflected on himself. An army was ordered to attack and plunder the tribe, but they fled on receipt of the news. When the fact became known, he ('Umar) said “Why does the husband of this chaste woman seek to distress her, and in suspicion of a wrong which has not been committed, why does he injure both her and his ruler, causing a personal and general scandal—instigating all this disturbance.” That paragon of fidelity, comforted the women of her family, and, strong in her own virtue, went to 'Umar and spoke as follows: “You are the Iord of this country. If before this you had not conceived such designs, you would not have entailed such disgrace on yourself and on me; but, you have kept a man's wife confined for a twelvemonth in your own house, and after exposing her to suspicion, have sent her away. What wonder is there then that people, who know not right from wrong, should entertain doubts, and what wonder if her husband kill her through jealousy. The redress were worse than the fault itself, should you punish the oppressed family. Consider your own errors, be just, and say at whose door lies the blame.” This was said with so much earnestness that it took effect. 'Umar, ashamed of his misdeeds, recalled his army, and caused the husband to be brought to his presence, when he sought by an oath, according to the Hindu custom, to remove all doubt from his mind. But that pattern of excellence anticipated him, and urged that she was the proper person to take the oath, for thus the foul stain would be washed away from herself and from her whole family. So it was settled that a fire should be kindled and an iron heated therein. As soon as the fire burned and flames like lightning issued from the iron, the woman raised it, and came out pure from the trial, and in the eyes of the Hindus all stain on her honour was removed. The thought now entered 'Umar's mind that it was not easy to clear himself of the guilt of the abduction. God is just; injustice pleaseth him not, and never has he, nor will he ever, disgrace any but the guilty. This cruel obstinate husband, thought he, has abased me in the eyes of the world; is it not better that I should pass through the fiery ordeal and truth be brought to the light of day! He did as resolved. Glory to God who maketh truth to triumph! Not a hair of his head or a thread of his garments was singed, and he issued scathless from the raging flames—which consume alike friend and foe. 'Umar and the relatives of the virtuous wife, whom idle talkers had calumniated and reviled, were now raised in public opinion; the doubts, which day and night had tormented the husband, vanished, and his unkind treatment ceased.*