Again, there is a tribe in the Kach district, who can prognosticate good or evil from the call of the partridge, and they can likewise predict the good or bad fortune of travellers from the cries and calls of other birds and beasts. A person relates—“I was journeying with a party, one of whom said, ‘I must hurry on; do you follow at your convenience, for I find, from the cry of a bird, that guests have arrived at my house, and also that such and such a friend has just died’—and, indeed, so it proved.”
Some of the marvels of this country will be found described under their proper heads; and the wonders of the hills will be mentioned towards the end of the narrative.
A Brahman named Náníya, and his wife Mundhar, people of
consideration, who dwelt at Bhámbaráwáh, subject to the authority of
Dalú Ráí, were desirous of having a child born to them. After a
while they were blessed with a daughter, the envy of the full moon.
It was revealed to her parents that she was destined to be married
to a Musulmán. Dreading this family disgrace, the parents, with
wounded hearts, enclosed that unique pearl in a box—her shell, as it
were—and cast it into the river. The current chanced to carry it
to the city of Bhambúr, where there lived a washerman named
Nahiya, who was also styled Lála; he had 500 apprentices, but not
one child. When the box came into some of the apprentices'
possession, they took it to their master, who opened it, and this
moon*
of God's power shone out therefrom. He called her Sassí,*
which signifies “moon,” and adopted her as his own. As she grew
up, the lancet of her love pierced the hearts of beauty's flower-
A goldsmith's wife, who longed to gratify her amorous inclinations, sought to bring about the separation of these two lovers, by exciting Pannún's jealousy. The devoted Sassí came out of it unsullied, like gold from the raging fire, and became an example to the world. After a while these two lovers were married. Pannún's father on learning this, desired his other sons to bring back the infatuated one by some means or other. They went and had an interview with Pannún, and became his guests. At night-fall, without his waking, they bound him on a camel, and set off towards their own country. Towards morning Sassí awoke, and found that she had been robbed of her living treasure. No longer mistress of herself she tore her garments in despair, and set off alone in quest of her lost one. With the feet of affection she traversed the rugged hills, and after accomplishing a distance of about forty kos, she fell exhausted from thirst, and was convulsed, striking her feet on the ground in the agony of death. By the power of God a pool full of water was produced, of which she drank, and found fresh strength. Persons say that the pool remains full of water to this day, and is never dry, even though no rain should fall for years. It is said, that Sassí had seen these things in a dream, on the night on which she was presented with henna, (at her marriage). The branch of henna which she had slept with in her hand according to custom, and which she retained after she awoke, and which she carried with her, she now planted on this hill; by the power of God the branch grew to be a tree, and still remains a monument of that bleeding heart.
Not to be tedious, after being thus refreshed, Sassí hurried forward, and accomplished six or seven kos further through the same hills, when she was again distressed by thirst. A shepherd accidentally espied her from a distance, and cast longing eyes on her, and approaching, desired to carry her off. Thereupon she upbraided him with injustice, and requested that he would, at least, procure some refreshment for her, thirsty and tired as she then was, before taking her off. The shepherd hastened to his flock to get some milk. While this was going on, Sassí, who despaired of finding any trace of her lover, and finding herself thus fallen into evil, vented the anguish of her heart before the Almighty (who is the comforter of the helpless), and put up a petition for protection against that demon of the desert. Instantly, by the divine power, the hill was rent asunder, and gave a place to that half dead and stricken lover, like a ruby lying in the matrix; and, as a warning and memorial, a corner of her scarf was left visible. When the shepherd returned with the milk, and saw this instance of Divine power, he repented himself, and raised a tomb of stones over her, according to custom.
The tellers of love stories, which cut the heart like sharp diamonds, relate that when Pannún, all in chains, was carried before his father, his restlessness began to shew itself to such a degree that his father was alarmed for his life, and, there being no help for it, he desired his brothers to go with him, and in any way that could be managed, restore his beloved to him. As they were travelling back, Pannún arrived at the place where Sassí was entombed, and seeing the fresh traces, stood amazed. The mutual attraction of hearts revealed this to him. For outward evidence he set about inquiring into the circumstances. The shepherd before spoken of happened to arrive just then, and related everything as it had occurred. Pannún instantly dismounted from his camel, and begged his brothers to wait one moment, as he wished to pay a pilgrim's visit to this tomb. Then, having thrown himself upon it, he cried aloud to the Almighty, beseeching that he might be joined to his love. As no petitioner before God is ever left without hope, so by His power the hill at once opened and admitted Pannún. He and his mistress were thus encased, as it were, like twin almonds in one shell. The loves of these two, both lovers and both beloved, are still chanted in verses by the Sindians, at a place called Husainí, and people thus seek and find a mode by which they may soar from wordly affection to spiritual love.* In truth, this narrative has a wonderful effect on the hearers and narrators, and Mír M'asúm, of Bhakkar, has wrought it into a poem, entitled “Husn o Náz” (or beauty and blandishment); and Kází Murtazá Sorthí, a resident of the village of Katiána, composed a poem, of a peculiar rhythm, on it in the reign of Muhammad Sháh Bádsháh. He relates this story:—A Darwesh named Ism'aíl, an inhabitant of Multán, came on a pilgrimage to see these two wonderful persons of the world of love and affection, and having left his camel at a distance, sat down and fasted three days, in the hope of seeing the two lovers. At the end of that time an old woman appeared to him, bringing some bread and water, but he flatly refused to eat or drink till he had seen Sassí and Pannún. She replied that she was Sassí, and desired him not to expect to see Pannún, for there was no dependance to be placed on things of this world, and that she was harassed by her kindred, who had reduced her to that condition. The Darwesh said—“How can I believe this, for Sassí was young and beautiful, and thou art an old crone.” On these words, she was transfigured to her pristine beauty and youth, and she bade him eat something. The Darwesh said, “I will rather die of hunger than eat before I have seen both of you: thus have I vowed.” After repeated adjurations, Sassí descended into the grave, and showed Pannún as far as his waist, but she herself encircled him all the while with both arms, for fear some one should carry him off. In short, many elders of pure heart have thus seen them. That road is not passable for any one riding a camel; but whosoever keeps awake by night at the tomb, is feasted by an unseen hand, notwithstanding that the place is an utter desert.