1 a vizier's daughter - Hazara.net

50
A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR
“He said it was a good one, and would serve him well to shoot his
enemies with,” the old woman replied.
“Yes, that’s what it’s for. That gun was sent to serve a double purpose.
It is to purchase a place of securit y for Gul Begum, and help her
guardian to protect her. But it has a wider use than that, mother. It is to
protect our country from our foes. Looked at in that light, don’t you
think this arrangement good?”
“The plan is good enough,” the old lady answered , “I am not finding
fault with that. It’s the man himself I don’t like.”
“Why, what’s the matter with him?” her son-in-law asked, rather
irritated by her persistence. “I knew his father well. Had I not had
other plans for Gul Begum, I might have even given her in marriage to
this son. I have not seen him much of late, but the lad’s a good lad, you
may depend on that.”
“He may be,” the old lady said quietly. “It is not for me to judge, but if
God made him a good man, it’s a pit y He did not give him a better
face.”
Ghulam Hossain laughed aloud. He had nothing of the usual Hazara
giggle about him. “Ah, there we have it, mother,” he said gaily. “The
lad is ugly, and has not found favour in your woman’s e yes. Poor lad,
he is indeed unfortunate. He had not looks enough to secure him a good
wife, or indeed, apparently, to give him credit for a good character.”
The old lad y was not too well pleased; she felt she was being laughed
at, so she said nothing more, but looked unconvinced. Moreover, it was
not as though the girl were to be given in marriage – she was only
going on a visit, but she did not like this plan of naming a girl on a
man she was not intended to marry. It was against all custom, and gave
the man and his family an authorit y o ver her niece that was quite
beyond their social position. But her son-in-law was a strange man,
with quite unusual notions, and there was no use opposing him, and no
use talking. It was his business too, not hers, after all. The girl was his
to do what he chose with.
But Ghulam Hossain’s difficulties were by no means all over when he
had succeeded in silencing the old lady. Gul Begum had not been
brought up as an ordinar y Hazara girl. She had ideas of her own. When
the scheme was unfolded to her she most evidently did not approve.
“Let me stay here, father, with you,” she pleaded piteously. “Don’t
send me awa y. If you can’t protect me from this man, who can?”
“Nothing but marriage, or a supposed marriage such as this, can protect
you from this monster,” her father said quietly. “Be reasonable, my
flower. I do not send you from me willingly. You know that, don’t you,
Jan-e-m (my life)? You know the story your grandmother told you
about those dogs? The y are this very man’s dogs. Had I sent him a