1 a vizier's daughter - Hazara.net

57
A VIZIER’S DAUGHTER – A TALE OF THE HAZARA WAR
The parting between the grandmother and granddaughter was more
affectionate than an y they had ever had before. Gul Begum actually
wept when she saw the last of the old lady disappearing down the
pathway.
“Never mind, it won’t be for long,” she said, addressing Mohamed
Jan’s mother, “and then I shall go home.”
“Don’t make too sure of that,” the elder woman replied ; “we have not
seen the last of the Afghans yet, but if you apply yourself to work
industriously the time will soon pass. We all grow old quite soon
enough.”
“I have brought m y needlework,” Gul Begum replied coldly. “I will get
it and sit in the shade and work hard , and then, as you say, the time
will soon pass.”
But days passed on, and then weeks, and still there was no sign of the
war abating. She heard that the men were all up in arms, and sometimes
she ventured to ask Mohamed Jan why he had not gone off to the war;
but he was a man laz y by nature, and it took a good deal of stirring to
rouse him, unless he saw a chance of making money, then, indeed, it
was astonishing the energy he displa yed.
“You have been here three whole months,” he said to Gul Begum one
day. “Does your father think that a rifle and three sheep are to pay me
for that?”
The girl looked up surprised. “I should think they more than paid for
the little food of yours that I have eaten,” she said indignantly.
“Oh, that’s it, is it?” Mohamed Jan replied. “I am to get nothing for the
trouble of protecting you, and for being kept away from my fellowcountrymen,
who are up in arms all over the mountains defending their
country, while I am kept here to look after an idle woman who cannot
even answer civilly when she is civilly spoken to.”
Gul Begum gave some angr y retort, and a hot discussion ended by
Mohamed Jan assuring his guest that it was high time she learnt what
her true position was, and that he would take an early opportunity of
teaching it to her. The girl winced. The long absence from home was
beginning to be torture to her, but now that her jailors, as she called
them in her heart, were going to treat her with harshness instead of
indifference, she determined to write to her father and let him know the
sorry plight she was in. Ah, how as a child she had resented those
writing lessons! How hard she thought it that she should be obliged to
sit still and make all those little strokes and dots while other gir ls were
running about the hills or sitting playing in the sun! now she felt most
truly thankfu l for the persistency wit which her father had taught her;
but she had some days to wait before she could get hold of either pen
or ink.