In the first part of the blessed month of Muḥarram* of the year one thousand and three (1003) Shaikh Faríd Bukhári, who was associated with Áçaf Khán in the duties of Bakhshí, received orders to repair to the mountain district of the north, and reduce to obedi­ence the rebellious Rájahs of those districts, and having made a settlement of their holdings, to bring back suitable presents to the Emperor.

In the beginning of the month Çafar* of this year the Emperor crossed over the river Ráwí, and spent twenty-five days in amuse­ment and hunting in the neighbourhood, and then returned.

At this time the king of Poets* was ordered by the Emperor to compose the Panj-ganj, and in the short space of five months, more or less, he finished the Nal u Daman (who were a lover and his be­loved, the story of whom is famous among the people of India,) and comprised it in 4,200 verses odd, and presented it to the Emperor as a gift together with some ashrafís. It was very much approved by the Emperor, and he ordered it to be transcribed and illuminated and read like the translations by Naqíb Khán. The first couplet of the book is the following:—

“O in the search of Thee from the beginning
The 'Anqá of sight is soaring high.”

And verily it is a Masnaví, the like of which for the last 300 years since Mír Khusrou no poet has composed.

At this time Mírzá Nizám-ud-dín Aḥmad* fell out with Qulij Khán, and was continually in opposition to him, and gained a great ascendancy over the mind (P. 397) of the Emperor, and had entered on affairs with great energy and activity. He became the focus of all sorts of favours from the Emperor, and the recipient of his per­fect trust with regard to his ability, good sense, sincerity, honesty and perseverance. And this to such an extent, that the Emperor appointed Qulij Khán and other courtiers, who had always been attendants at Court, to out-lying provinces. The Emperor consider­ing this matter as but the forerunner of his patronage, and the beginning of his favour, had all sorts of bounties laid up for him in the treasury of his heart, and wished to bring forward his exalted ability, which was capable of growth, into the arena of notice. Sud­denly at the very acme of his eminence, and the height of his activity, to the disappointment of the hopes of friends and strangers a dreadful blow was received from Fate, and at the age of forty-five he succumbed to a burning fever, and left this transitory world tak­ing nothing with him but a good name. A host of friends and com­panions, who had been witnesses of the excellence of his qualities, and had entertained great hopes of him, and especially the poor author (who cherished for him a kind of religious unanimity, and a sincere friendship free from all worldly motives), poured tears of regret from their eyes, and beat their bosoms with the stone of despair, and in the end had no resource left, but patience and endurance, which is a characteristic of the pure, and a quality of the pious. I looked upon this event as the greatest misfortune, and took therefrom a perfect warning, so that I never afterwards formed a friendship with any human being, but regarded the corner of obscurity as best suited to me:—

“The discourse that preaches of thy departure is mere vanity,
The death of thy companion is sufficient preacher for thee.”

This event took place on the twenty-third of Çafar of this year. They carried his bier from the camp to Láhór and buried him in his own garden. There was scarcely any one of high or low degree in the city, who did not weep over his bier, and recall his gracious qualities, and gnaw the back of the hand of regret:—(P. 398)

“Death grants perpetuity to no human being,
The rigorous King shows no respect of persons.
The decree of Death is common to all earth's habitants,
He issues not this decree to me or thee alone.”

And this qiṭ'ah was composed to give the date:—

“Mírzá Nizám-ud-dín Aḥmad is departed,
Brisk and beautiful went he towards the other world.
His spirit on account of its sublimity
Became the protegé of the Lord Most High.
A clever man found the year of the date,
A pearl without price has left the world.”*

At this time Shaikh Faríd Bukhárí, who had been sent* to reduce the State of the Sawálik mountain district to order, was sent for to administer the affairs of the office of Bakhshí, which had been com­mitted exclusively to him. The Emperor appointed Qázi Ḥusain Qazwíní to succeed him [in the Sawálik mountains].

At this time A'zam Khán returned from Makkah, where he had suffered much harm at the hands of the Sharífs, and throwing away the blessing which he had derived from the pilgrimage, joined immedi­ately on his return, the Divine Faith, performing the sijdah, and following all other rules of discipleship; he cut off his beard, and was very forward at social meetings, and in conversation. He learnt the rules of the new faith from his reverence 'Allamí,* and received Gházípúr and Ḥájípúr as jágír:—

“I have spent my life at this learning,
And am still learning the Alphabet;
I don't know when I shall become
So proficient in the letters as to find my way in his Díwán.

And the saying about repressing one's whims came true.*

On the ninth of the month of Rajab* of this year the entrance of the Sun into Aries took place (P. 399), and the fortieth year from the Accession began. The customary assembly was held in the same manner as in former years. Two days before the entrance of the Sun into Aries, the Emperor called to me to come from the window* in the public and private audience-chambers; and said to Shaikh Abu-l-Fazl. “We thought that so and so” (meaning the writer of these pages) “was an unworldly* individual of Çúfí tendencies, but he appears to be such a bigoted lawyer that no sword can sever the jugular vein of his bigotry.” He enquired, “In what book has the author thus written, that your Majesty says this of him?” He replied, “Why, in the Razm-námah” (which is a name for the Mahá-bhárata ) “and last night I called Naqíb Khán to witness of this matter.” Shaikh Abu-l-Fazl admitted that it was a fault. I was obliged to make my appearance, and humbly stated, that I was a translator, nothing more, and that whatever the sages of India had represented therein, I had translated without alteration, but that if I had written it myself, I should have been to blame, and should have acted wrongly. The Shaikh supported me, and the Emperor was silent. The cause of this contretemps was as follows: I had translated in the Razm-námah a certain story in which it is narrated, that one of the teachers of the people of India, when on the point of death, said by way of advice to those present: “It is right that a man should step out of the limits of ignorance and negligence, and should first of all become acquainted with the peerless Creator, and should pursue the path of knowledge; and not be satisfied with mere knowledge without practise, for that yields no fruit, but should choose the path of virtue, and as far as in him lies withdraw his hand from evil actions, and should know for a certainty that every action will be enquired into.” And on this passage I wrote this hemistich:—

“Every action has its reward,
And every deed its recompense.”

(P. 400) This passage he considered as referring to Munkir and Nakír* the general Resurrection, and the Last Judgment, &c. things contrary to his own fixed tenets, who never talked of anything but metempsychosis, and so suspected me of theological bias and bigotry:—

“How long reproach me for my weeping eyelashes,
Let me for once have also the sympathy of thy dark eye.”

Eventually I impressed upon all the courtiers the fact, that all the people of India speak of the reward and punishment of good and bad actions. Their belief is as follows: When a person dies the scribe, who writes the chonicle of the deeds of mankind throughout the course of their lives, takes it before the angel, who is the Seizer of Souls, and is called the King of Justice. After he has examined into their good and bad actions, and has seen which has the pre­ponderance, he says, “This person has his choice.” Then he asks him: “Shall I first for thy good actions take thee to Paradise, that thou mayest there enjoy to the full delights in proportion to thy good actions, and after that send thee to Hell to expiate thy sins; or vice versâ?” When that period comes to an end, then he gives orders that the person should return to the Earth, and entering a form suitable to his actions should pass a certain period. And so on ad infinitum, until the time when he attains absolute release, and is freed from coming into and leaving the world. So that affair passed off well. On the day of Sharaf-ush-shams the Emperor said to Çadr Jahán, without any one's having suggested it to him: “How would it be if I were to appoint so and so* to the guardianship of the blessed tomb of his holiness the Khwájah of Ajmír, which is without a guardian?” He answered, “It would be a very good thing.” So for the space of two or three months I did much running about in the service of the Court, all the time hoping for a release from this confusion. And for a time I wrote some formal petitions, to which I got no answer, and so it became necessary that (P. 401) I should take my departure. And the Inward Monitor said this:—