1 a vizier's daughter - Hazara.net
1 a vizier's daughter - Hazara.net 1 a vizier's daughter - Hazara.net
18 A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR “Yes, a cruel, devastating war,” the chief said, smiling, “a cruel, devastating war, but we shall win. Win as we’ve always wo n before. Let them try, and they will see us triumph over them, slaying thousands, as our forefathers slew.” “We shall not triumph, “the Vizier said again, sadly, “we shall not slay, whichever way we act, our freedom is over, but we can at least die like men.” “Why do you say that, father? Our country has remained unconquered for hundreds of years, why should it be conquered now?” “Times are changed, customs, manners weapons, warfare is changed everywhere but with us. The Afghans have allied themselves wit the Kafirs, the white governors of Hindustan; these Kafirs have given them weapons, given them cannon, given them mone y. One-third of our nation will be bought over, one third will be killed, and the remainder will be fugitives or slaves. I see it all! But I will face it – face it to the end. I will not pay tribute.” “No, nor I,” the chief joined in, “but we will not be overthrown; we will not be defeated. The Afghans have allied themselves with the Kafirs; so be it. Let their alliance prove their curse. We will proclaim a Jihad, a holy war, against these allies of Kafirs. Half his own nation will turn against him. We will fight for the one true God and his prophet, and for Ali against these Kafirs and allies of Kafirs, and you will see who will flock to our standard. Overthrown? Of course we shall not be overthrown, we shall triumph and take tribute from them.” The chief’s white teeth gleamed and his deep-set eyes twinkled with cunning and anticipation of good things to come. His cousin’s teeth were clenched, his jaws set, his mind was made up, but there was neither triumph nor hope in his face, nothing but fixed purpose and fixed resolution. Gul Begum, facing the two men, read the thoughts of each, and a sense of unrest took possessio n of her heart. Her uncle’s sense of security was no satisfaction to her, with her father’s set face before her, she knew which was the master mind.
19 A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR CHAPTER IV THE RULERS OF THE COUNCIL ANOTHER group of eager debaters. Men this time. Fit mates for the squat little women to whom the reader has already been introduced. Short, broad, sturdy little people, in coarse, dust-coloured woollen garments, a strip of the same material would round and round their legs from the ankle to the knee, serving as gaiters, and their bare feet encased in coarse heavy boots. Such a chattering and gesticulating! Three men sat apart and talked more quietly; one seldom spoke at all. He wore a discontented, tired sort of look and at last he rose. “I will tell you what it is,” he said; “it’s pretty clear that we all refuse to pay this tax. All this talking and wrangling has brought us thus far; and it is equally clear that our refusing to do so means war, but it does not seem that any one is asking himself the question, ‘Are we prepared for war?” “Of course we are prepared for war,” the taller of the men who remained sitting answered. “How?” asked the other scornfully. “As we have alwa ys been in past centuries.” “But I tell you things have changed. What was is passed, what we have to look to is what is.” “We have looked to it. There is what there has alwa ys been – knives, swords, guns, and men; what more do you want?” Ghu lam Hossain (for it was he who had risen and now stood talking) answered with two words: “Discipline – mone y.”
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19<br />
A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR<br />
CHAPTER IV<br />
THE RULERS OF THE COUNCIL<br />
ANOTHER group of eager debaters. Men this time. Fit mates for the<br />
squat little women to whom the reader has already been introduced.<br />
Short, broad, sturdy little people, in coarse, dust-coloured woollen<br />
garments, a strip of the same material would round and round their legs<br />
from the ankle to the knee, serving as gaiters, and their bare feet<br />
encased in coarse heavy boots. Such a chattering and gesticulating!<br />
Three men sat apart and talked more quietly; one seldom spoke at all.<br />
He wore a discontented, tired sort of look and at last he rose. “I will<br />
tell you what it is,” he said; “it’s pretty clear that we all refuse to pay<br />
this tax. All this talking and wrangling has brought us thus far; and it<br />
is equally clear that our refusing to do so means war, but it does not<br />
seem that any one is asking himself the question, ‘Are we prepared for<br />
war?”<br />
“Of course we are prepared for war,” the taller of the men who<br />
remained sitting answered.<br />
“How?” asked the other scornfully.<br />
“As we have alwa ys been in past centuries.”<br />
“But I tell you things have changed. What was is passed, what we have<br />
to look to is what is.”<br />
“We have looked to it. There is what there has alwa ys been – knives,<br />
swords, guns, and men; what more do you want?”<br />
Ghu lam Hossain (for it was he who had risen and now stood talking)<br />
answered with two words:<br />
“Discipline – mone y.”
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