This is an account of the conquest of the Fort of Māndū and of the whole of Mālwa:—* When the lancers of the victorious army had put antimony into the eyes of the more dimsighted Rāīs with their spears, many powerful Zamīndārs, gifted with greater keenness of vision, threw aside their boldness and impudence from fear of the stone-piercing arrows of the Turks. They came to the Imperial Court with open eyes and turned its threshold into antimony by rubbing their black pupils upon it; at the same time they saved their bones from becoming antimony-boxes for the dust.* The Emperor regarded every one of them with an affectionate glance, and threw on them a ray of his favour, which their eyes had never expected to behold. Finally, no impudent infidel remained in the provinces of Hind; some had gone to sleep on the scarlet-coloured bed of (Imperial) punish­ment; others had opened their eyes and bowed in obedience before the Court.

But on the southern frontier, Rāī Mahlik Deo of Mālwa and Kūkā Pardhān had a permanent army of thirty or forty thousand chosen horsemen. The darkness of their (minds) and the dust raised by their legions had put the antimony of pride in their eyes. ‘When Fate decrees, the sight is blinded’. A curtain had fallen before their eyes and they forsook the path of loyalty. Consequently, a body of select troops was sent by the Emperor against them and fell on those blind wanderers all of a sudden. Victory itself preceded them and had her eyes fixed upon the road to see when the triumphant army would arrive. When the army of Islām came upon the rebels, their eyes were closed and their necks were cut open with the blows of the sword. Streams of blood sank into the ground. So far as the human eye could see, the ground was muddy with blood. The Hindūs tried to fly away from the blood-eating earth, yet with eyes full of tears many of them sank in the mire. At this moment Kūkā came blindly forward, but his horse remained stuck in the mud ‘like black earth in the mire’. In the twinkling of an eye he was pierced by innumerable arrows, and looked like a bee-hive with a thousand compartments, all full of bees. Then his soul fled to the streams of the under-world, while his unfortunate head was sent to the Imperial Court, so that it may attain to a real sublimity by being placed under the feet of the royal horses below the Palace Gate.

When Mālwa, an extensive territory of which even clearsighted geographers are unable to discover the limits, was conquered, it was necessary to entrust it to an experienced and clever governor (mutaṣarrif), who would not only keep a firm hand over the newly conquered land, but also through courageous judgment and great efforts reduce the fort of Māndū, an edifice so high that the human eye was unable to see its summit. The Emperor surveyed with a critical eye the confidential and trusty servants of the state to see which of them most deserved being entrusted with such a post. When his inspired mind had come to a conclusion, he mentioned to the Ḥājib-i-Khāṣ with his brow: ‘Tell ‘Aīnul Mulk* (the Eye of the State) that I have seen foresight in him. I am giving him the title of ‘Aīnul Mulk and elevating him to a very high office. I entrust him with the province of Mālwa, where the darkness of infidelity has been illuminated with the light of Islām. He is to use his foresight with skill, without permitting his eyelid to cover his pupils in sleep at the command of night. A handful of thorns still remain in that land, and he is not to consider his eyes safe from being pricked by those ignoble people. He has to conquer the fort of Māndū by closing up the streams and making breaches in the walls; and when, by the kindness of the “Opener of the Gates”, the place has been conquered, he has to wash away, with the sharpness of his sword, the contamination of infidelity, which sticks to that pagan land as evil intentions stick to the eyes of the rebellious. The cowardly Mahlik Deo has withdrawn to his fort as the eye of a blind man sinks into its socket. Bring him out by such means as you can in order to overawe the other Hindūs. And if, even for a short time, he remains safe in his fort from the arrows of the Mussalmāns, you are to expect nothing but anger from me. There is reproof for him if he is unable to flow streams of blood on the mountains.’ The ‘Ḥājib-Khāṣ’ came and in his official way told ‘Aīnul Mulk exactly what the Imperial order was. ‘Aīnul Mulk stood up as the eyelashes stand upon the eyelids, rubbed his forehead on the ground and accepted the royal firmān with the pupils of his eyes.

‘Aīnul Mulk started on the mission with his troops and opened wide his joyous eyes to accomplish the task entrusted to him by the Emperor. He cleared the territory (Mālwa) of the remaining evil doers as the eye is cured of its inflammation, till finally his sword refused to do any further work and went into the ‘eye’ of its scabbard. The dark-faced Rāī, like a grain of chāksū,* had sought shelter between two stones; but he only made it clear that he would be pealed and ground for the sake of ‘Aīnul Mulk (the Eye of the State). From dimness of sight, the Rāī sent the ‘light of his eyes’* in front, thus making him a shield for his own eyes. At the same time he placed round his son an enormous multitude which only contributed to his fall, as overgrown eyelashes injure the eyes. All at once a body of ‘Aīnul Mulk’s troops fell upon them, like the dust storm that overpowers the eyes of men. In an instant the boldest of them were rolling in blood and dust, while the Rāī’s son slept the sleep of death. But ‘Aīnul Mulk’s clear judgment was not content with this success and he wished to lure the Rāī himself out of his cave. He was planning this when a spy (dīdbān) came back from the fort and undertook to guide them. The man led them by a way he had discovered, illuminating the path with the lamp of his eyes. In the course of the night ‘Aīnul Mulk’s army reached the summit and fell on Mahlik Deo with the impetuosity of a shooting-star before even his household gods were aware of it. Then eye-piercing arrows began to pour on them like innumerable drops of rain, while the flashes of the sword dazzled their eyes. The meteoric arrows kindled a fire in the bodies of these demons (deos)* brought up in the shade. Rāī Mahlik Deo (the fierce demon) was burnt from head to foot in his battle with the shooting-stars and fled to the stream of Sār, where he was slain. This event occurred on Thursday, the 5th of Jamādiul Awwal, 705 A.H. The gate of the fort of Māndū was opened before them like the eye of fortune. Where, formerly, through secret magic and tricks that deceived the sight,* the gabrs had drawn a veil over the people’s eyes with the dark sayings of infidelity, now true believers, under the ‘brows’ of the arches, bowed in thankfulness to the ground. The eyes of the angels were illuminated with the light of congregational prayers and Friday sermons. The four walls of the fort resounded at all the five prayers to the sound of the ‘Opening Verses’: ‘(All) Praise is due to Allāh, the Lord of the Worlds’. Malik ‘Aīnul Mulk wrote down all this with the black of his pupil and sent it through his ḥājib to the Emperor to be placed before his august eyes. The wise king under the shadow of his canopy is like the ‘Idea of Man’; for the ‘Eye of God’ is over him.* When this good news was brought to the Emperor, he bowed down in thankfulness and assigned the territory of Māndū also to ‘Aīnul Mulk. May God perfect the Empire of the Sulān and guard his perfection with the Perfect Eye.*

This is the account of the conquest of Chitor, which towers like the sky on the earth:—On Monday, the 8th Jamādius ānī, 702 A.H. the Conqueror of the World, resolved on the conquest of Chitor, ordered his high-sounding drums to be beaten. The crescent-banner was moved forward from Delhī and the Imperial canopy was raised up to the smoky clouds; the sound of the drum reached the bowl of the sky and conveyed to it the good news of the Emperor’s determination. Finally, the confines of Chitor were reached. The Imperial pavilion of which the clouds may be considered the lining, was pitched up in that territory between two rivers.* The enthusiasm of the army shook the two seashores like an earthquake, while the dust raised by the feet of the troops rendered the two deep rivers fordable. The two wings of the army were ordered to pitch their tents one after the other on the two sides of the fort. It seemed that water-laden clouds had alighted at the foot of the hill. For two months the flood of the swords went up to the ‘waist’ of the hill but could not rise any higher. Wonderful was the fort, which even hailstones were unable to strike! For if the flood itself rushes from the summit, it will take a full day to reach the foot of the hill.

Nevertheless, the celestial fort, which raised its head above the clouds, would have bowed to the ground at the strokes of the magẖrabī stones. But Jesus from the Bāitul Ma‘mūr (Mecca) sent the good news of the building of Moḥammad’s Faith; consequently, the stones of the building remained intact and kept their secret to themselves.* On a hill, named Chatar-wāri, the Emperor raised his white canopy every day like the sun, and as is the custom of rulers, attended to the administration of the army. He ordered the eastern wrestlers (pahlwāns) to draw the westerners (magẖribīs). Other warriors began to place heavy stones in the ‘arm’ (palla) of the magẖrabi—for, except the arm of the magẖrabī, nothing else could measure their strength. Every warrior, as he raised the stone with his strength, made his hand a pillar for the hill that had no pillars. The army of Solomon dealt strokes, like those of David, on the fort that reminded them of Seba. On Monday, 11 Muḥarram, A.H. 703, the Solomon of the age, seated on his aerial throne, went into the fort, to which birds were unable to fly. The servant (Amīr Khusrau), who is the bird of this Solomon, was also with him. They cried, ‘Hudhud! Hudhud!’ repeatedly. But I would not return; for I feared Sulān’s wrath in case he inquired, ‘How is it I see not Hudhud, or is he one of the absentees?’ And what would be my excuse for my absence if he asked, ‘Bring to me a clear plea’? If the Emperor says in his anger, ‘I will chastise him,’ how can the poor bird have strength enough to bear it?* It was the rainy season when the white cloud of the ruler of land and sea appeared on the summit of this high hill. The Rāī, struck with the lightning of the Emperor’s wrath and burnt from hand to foot, sprang out of the stone-gate as fire springs out of stone; he threw himself into the water and flew towards the Imperial pavilion, thus protecting himself from the lightning of the sword. Wherever there is a brazen vessel, the Hindūs say, there lightning falls; and the Rāī’s face had turned as yellow as brass through fear. Surely he would not have been safe from the lightning of the arrow and the sword, if he had not come to the door of the royal pavilion.