Bijli the Dancer, etc

Front matter

BIJLI THE DANCER r ids a THE JNAUTCH BIJLI THE DANCER BY JAMES BLYTHE PATT0N WITH SIX ILLUSTRATIONS BY HORACE VAN RUITH METHUEN & CO. 36 ESSEX STREET, W.C. LONDON LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS PAGE THE NAUTCH ..... Frontispiece Preparing for the Chase - - 41 The Murder of Kasim - - - - - 134 He stood with Hands behind his Back, contemplating the Face of his sleeping Mistress - 243 MubArik the Kanchan entered - - - 281 She clung to his Feet - - - -

Chapter I. One

April night in Northern India, the calm starlit sky looked down on innumerable torches and lamps illuminating the courtyard of the house of the Nawab Bahadur Khan of Ronahi, and on the crowd of men absorbed in the perform ance of the actors and singers. All Ronahi was present. From the latticed gallery at the upper end of the courtyard hung the great chandelier, its many branches bearing lights with coloured shades, its glass prisms glittering with tremulous rays. And beneath the chandelier, on a dais covered with red cloth, sat the noble host surrounded by his guests. An absurd play, performed by some Dehli actors, had concluded, and the crowd at the lower end of the courtyard was opening out to admit the dancers, who were to succeed them. ' Whence came the dancers, Nawab Sahib ?' inquired Rafat Ali, the Tahsildar, addressing the host. ' That is more than I can tell you,' replied Bahadur Khan, turning for information to his Jamadar, the old Sayyid, Imdad Ali, who stood behind his master, leaning against the gallery pillar. ' Your Excellency,' replied the man, ' the next performers are the two women, with their followers, who were halting in the Hafizganj Sarai — travelling, we were told, to Patna.' 'Ah, I remember,' said the Nawab, in an indifferent tone. ' You told me, I think, that one of the women was known as Bijli ?'* ' So her people mentioned to one of our men,' replied the Jamadar. ' Bijli ?' repeated the Tahsildar, his broad face rippling with a smile. ' Is her glance as destructive and swift as the thunderbolt ?

Or is she named from the quick gliding of her feet ?' Young Ahmad Khan, the Nawab's nephew, smiled contemptuously, and said in Persian verse : ' Her face as black as the thunder cloud, alight with the flash of an angry eye, A black witch !' ' A name of some promise,' murmured the stout Shekh, Sher Muhammad, behind his bushy white beard. * Lightning. ' Seat the Shekh Sahib in front,' said the Tah sildar, laughing. ' His soft heart will be a good conductor, and her flashes pass harmlessly into the ground.' ' Why called Bijli ?' inquired Bahadur Khan again, addressing his Jamadar. ' Her people said that she brought the nickname with her from Bhopal,' he replied. ' We should learn its meaning when we witnessed her song and dance.' Bahadur Khan was growing weary of the entertain ment. He cared little for dancing and erotic songs, and to sit for long as a mere spectator was irksome to a man of his restless spirit and active habits.

But it was the night following the feast of Bakr Id, an occasion always celebrated, according to the custom of his house, by such performances, and his family pride would not permit him to curtail the usual ceremonial. He suppressed a yawn, and, with an affectation of interest, remarked to his guests : ' Her people have a cunning way of exciting our curiosity to witness her performance. She seems well served, and that is itself a recommendation.' ' Her reputation has not yet reached us of Ronahi, said Lala Debi Das the cornbroker. ' Nay, but her name may have been known in Dehli and Lahore, and yet not have penetrated into Ronahi.' It was the Tahsildar who spoke, in a tone of easy patronage. 1—2 ' I think, though,' interposed Babu Baijnath the banker, ' our Nawab Sahib will hardly admit that we of Ronahi are so remote from the great world that the rumour of the cities cannot reach us.' Bahadur Khan replied courteously : ' I believe this dancer's name is no better known in Dehli than in our own Ronahi.' ' Your Excellency,' said the Jamadar, addressing his master, ' I was told by one of her people that she had been in Bhopal, about the Court of Sikandar Begam, protected by one of the nobles.' ' No such dancers are to be found nowadays as those we knew in the prime of the Lucknow Court,' remarked the stout Sher Muhammad. ' I recollect seeing Nikhi the Dancer at her best ; yes, when she would not move a foot under a thousand rupees a night — ay, and got it, too.' ' These are days of the Honourable Company and economy,' said Baijnath the banker. ' Saving the presence of our free-handed Nawab Sahib.' ' By your friendly support, Sir Banker,' replied Bahadur Khan, smiling sardonically at his financier. ' But see, they advance.

Beware, Sher Muhammad : there are embers smouldering behind that white beard of yours ready to flame at the swing of that skirt.' The crowd of men at the lower end of the court yard divided to make way for two dancing women, with their attendant musicians and torch-bearers. They advanced into the midst of the assembly, a strongly-contrasted pair. The one short and stout, her full bosom bursting from her bodice, her limbs encumbered by her voluminous skirt ; her face broad, thick-lipped, with prominent eyes and wide nostrils — a merry, sensual face not unlike that of a rustic Faun. But her companion, to whom she served as a foil, was a tall, graceful woman, bearing the many folds of her garments as naturally as a bird its plumage. She wore a long-sleeved vest of purple silk, bound with gold lace ; a stuff skirt of the same colour reaching to her ankles.

It was gathered in in numerable plaits at the waist, and almost concealed the wide curve of her hips. Beneath its gold embroidered hem could be just seen trousers of yellow silk, and her bare feet adorned with many rings and broad silver chains. An immense gauze veil was thrown as a hood over her head and across her breast, and amidst its soft folds was visible an oval face of the fair, straight-featured Kashmiri type, with arched brows and liquid eyes which, full of light of the many lamps, sparkled as with an electric flash when she raised the long silken lashes and gazed steadily on the group of gentlemen on the dais. The dancers took up their positions in front of the Nawab, and saluted with a bow and a wave of the right hand. To the right and left of them stood a torchman holding aloft a blazing flambeau, and behind, their faces grave with importance, the three musicians bearing light guitars and small kettle drums.

The dance began. Nimble fingers sounded the drums, and the guitars took up the air. Then arose the cadenced stamp of the dancers' feet and the ring of the anklet-bells, as they moved with stealthy, gliding steps, and waved their arms in graceful curves. They turned about and the many-plaited skirt expanded, displaying all its rich embroidery, the silken trousers, and the jewelled feet. Then, with fingers on the supple, twitching hips, they advanced and retreated with rhythmic stamp to the rapid rumble of the drums and the strange harmonies and discords of the strings. To the spectators it was a scene full of light and sound and movement ; of brilliant dresses, glancing gold and silver, flashing eyes, wild music and grace, and beneath all the suggestion of passion suppressed. The torches, which had been raised and lowered in the cadence of the music, were now held on high, and for a moment the instruments were silent.

The tall dancer stood forward alone, and a love-song of Hafiz burst from her lips in passionate tones, the liquid of the-Persian verse pouring in long interlacing harmonies through a melody suggestive of despairing love. Her throat seemed to throb like that of the nightingale when he sings his fullest notes, her bosom to heave and her voice to tremble with emotion, and when she concluded with the fifth verse tears were rolling down her cheeks. Bijli's Song. When I whispered a prayer to entreat But a glance, 'twas in vain ; When I fell on the path at his feet, I was spurned with disdain. And his wrath was not cleansed from his breast By the flood of my tears ; On the granite no mark is impressed By the rainfall of years. As the torch at the dawn sinks its fire In the breezes' caress, I await his approach to expire In the waft of his dress.

When my sighs by the night-wind were borne, All the grove was distressed, And the nightingale waked till the morn ; Undisturbed was his rest ; For, remorseless, he careth no more If I stay or depart ; And he slumbers unmoved as I pour Forth the song from my heart. There was silence for a moment, and then from the lower end of the assembly arose a murmur of applause which, lessening in volume as it spread upwards, ended on the dais in a rustling of shifting limbs. Then the drums rumbled once more, the guitars took up the strain, as Bijli the Dancer, her anklet bells ringing to the cadenced stamp of her jewelled feet, with a wave of her arms, unlaced the folds of the great veil. The light gauze swung to the right and left, held in her outstretched arms, leaving uncovered her head and bust — the smooth, oval head, its raven hair braided with silver ribbons and fastened with golden bodkins ; the long, round neck, with its jewelled chain ; the slope of the shoulders, and the full bosom beneath the bodice of gold embroidered net.

The lithe limbs and supple body moved in graceful postures as the dancer advanced and retired, revolved with expanding skirt, wound and unwound the gauze veil, ever to the accompani ment of the rhythmic clash of the silver anklet-bells. The drums burst into their loudest tones ; the guitars grew strident ; the torches swung to the right and left, high and low ; the minstrels and torchmen gave vent to brief cries of admiration, and Bijli, with skilful hands, wound the lightly-floating veil about her head, crossed it in many folds over her bosom, and stood still, no part of her person remaining visible except her sparkling eyes, which flashed between the soft gauze. Baz Khan, a stalwart Pathan orderly, who stood in front of the spectators on the right, held his breath during the dance, and, when it ceased, rent his vest from neck to waist, murmuring inarticulate words in his beard, and stood as one dazed , the while, from the spectators around him, burst ejacu lations of delight at the dancer's wondrous skill.

The honoured guests on the dais were silent. They had sat motionless, fascinated by the dancer, following her every movement with eager eyes — the sway of the head, the curves of the figure, the gliding feet, the graceful swing of the many-plaited skirt ; and when the dance ended, each drew a long breath. But Bahadur Khan — everything had faded from his consciousness except the woman before him ; he sat, with arms tightly folded over his breast, fascinated as a bird by the snake. He had felt the emotions expressed by her song ; and when tears broke from the singer, his eyes, too, had overflowed, and the tears ran unheeded down his cheeks, while he remained motionless, absorbed in the dance. At a sign from Bijli her attendants drew around her, and retired with her in a group to the lower end of the assembly.

Then Bahadur Khan passed his kerchief over his face, aware at length of his undignified exhibition of emotion. He turned to the Tahsildar, Shekh Rafat Ali, saying : ' Do you not find the heat of these lamps op pressive ?' ' Not at all — not at all,' was the reply. ' But, Nawab Sahib, I congratulate you, for surely you have brought before us to-night a performer of rare skill and grace.' Then old Sher Muhammad, speaking with more than his usual gravity, said : ' 'Tis thirty years since I heard the great Nikhi sing — yes, thirty years — and only now do I hear again such a voice as hers. You have discovered a rare treasure, Nawab Sahib.' 'Such grace! such lissom, twining arms! A supple waist ! What passion in her song !' chimed in the others, with more warmth than was per missible to dignified reserve. ' We have to thank Mir Imdad Ali here,' remarked the Nawab, pointing to his Jamadar. ' It was he who summoned her from the sarai in Hafizganj.' ' He has a keen scent for such game,' remarked the banker in an undertone to the little corn-factor.

Then, addressing Bahadur Khan, he said : ' Perhaps, with your Excellency's permission, the woman might perform again.' The Nawab hesitated a moment. Meantime Bijli and her troupe had disappeared through the crowd at the lower end of the assembly, and her successors in the entertainment were advancing. Bahadur Khan felt a strange repugnance to recalling Bijli before the crowd of men, to allowing her lithe movements to be exhibited to coarse eyes, to hearing again comments on her flashing eyes, arching brows, and supple waist. ' Aj', again,' urged the Tahsildar. ' It was too short ; no other fault can even the critical Sher Muhammad find.' ' It shall be as you wish, gentlemen/ replied Bahadur Khan at length, assuming a tone of polite indifference. And, turning to his Jamadar, Imdad Ali, he said : ' See that she has a double fee, and ten gold mohars besides, at once, for she has pleased our honoured guests.

And let her come forward again when these people retire.' Imdad Ali bowed, and stepped down from the dais to cross the courtyard. ' Stay one moment !' cried his master to him, as though struck by a sudden thought. As the man stood a few paces away, Bahadur Khan rose quickly, and, striding to his side, whispered hotly in his ear : ' Heed this ! She must not appear again here. But see you detain her for me. I will speak to her when this herd has departed. Send me some excuse for her being unable to appear again to-night. You understand ?' The keen old face of the Sayyid lit up with in telligence ; he signified his comprehension with a quick glance, and departed on his errand. ' Pray do not rise, gentlemen ; do not disturb yourselves,' said the Nawab, returning to his guests, who had risen politely. ' Be seated, I beg.' And he resumed his place with an aspect of complete indifference.

The rest of the performance fell flat, for the vision of the graceful Bijli still haunted the spectators. Before it was concluded a servant brought a message to the Nawab, who thereupon turned to his guests, and said : ' Gentlemen, I regret to tell you that my Jamadar sends word the dancer will be unable to perform again to-night. She is somewhat indisposed, and no persuasion will induce her to reappear.' Servants now came up with trays of pan and flasks of rose-water, signals for the breaking-up of the assembly, and with grave courtesy, and many expressions of regret that Bijli could not be induced to perform again, the guests departed.

Chapter II

T T was long past midnight before the last of the * guests departed, and Nawab Bahadur Khan turned to enter his private apartment at the back of the dais. His body-servant, the aged Piru, raised the heavy curtain for his master to pass in, when the Land-Steward, Mir Niaz Ahmad, advanced rapidly up the courtyard. He was by race a Sayyid, of short stature, sharp features, small eyes, thin lips, and henna-stained beard. ' Excuse me for interrupting your Excellency at such a time,' he said quickly ; ' but our bailiff from Gambhira is here with the village headman, Nur Hasan. Your Excellency knows the man — a troublesome fellow.' Bahadur Khan turned round to the speaker, and, glancing at him indifferently with half-closed eyes, replied : ' It is late, Niaz Ahmad. Let the business lie until the morning.' 'As your Excellency thinks fit,' returned the Land- Steward. ' But Nur Hasan is on his way to lodge a complaint in the Faringi court at Hafizganj, and insists on going thither without delay.

I can place him under restraint until the morning; but, as I said, and as your Excellency knows, he is a trouble some fellow.' ' Let the man be brought here at once,' said Bahadur Khan sharply, a frown on his face. The Land-Steward hurried away, while Bahadur Khan turned back, and stood waiting on the edge of the dais under the chandelier. The courtyard had been cleared of all visitors, and some servants were moving about quietly extinguishing the lights. He stood, with hands clasped behind his back, his head bent slightly forward, pensively watching the servants at their work. The Nawab Bahadur Khan of Ronahi, the chief landowner or zamindar of the British District of Hafizganj, was at this period in the thirty-fifth year of his age. Tall of stature, of erect bearing, and broad of shoulder, his spare but muscular figure indicated strength and activity.

His face was of the high-caste Arab type ; the forehead straight and lofty, but somewhat narrow ; the nose aquiline, with finely-cut nostrils, which expanded and contracted slightly at each breath he drew ; the straight, strongly - marked eyebrows curved somewhat low under the temples ; and his eyes, brown and liquid, showed more than usual of the white between the long lashes. His cheeks were nearly devoid of hair, but a short, crisp beard covered his chin, and a narrow silky moustache curled upwards from his lip, leaving exposed the curving outline of his mouth. His complexion was of a light-brown shade, with an undertone of pink, which waxed and waned with his changing emotions, glowing with a red flush when he was angry. Bound about his head in neat and graceful folds was a turban of intermingled gray and green rolls, embroidered with gold thread, beneath which stray curls of glossy hair clustered at the back of his neck.

He wore a long coat of white silk, collarless, and cut to the base of his neck, so as to leave uncovered the smooth column of his throat. A muslin shirt, a white silk vest bound with beads, and white trousers, fitting closely below the knees and loose above, completed his costume. Facing him as he stood was the arched gateway opening on to the street, and to his right and left the courtyard was enclosed by a row of little rooms, their fronts forming a peristyle of low Saracenic arches. They were used for dwellings by his servants and retainers, and in a few of them feebly glimmering lights were visible between the fluted pillars. Bahadur Khan felt irritated at being detained, but it was not his habit to express his irritation in words, which were signs of weakness, unless followed by action, and incompatible with the aristocratic reserve which was characteristic of his demeanour.

As he stood motionless and alone beneath the still burning chandelier, he recalled the vision of the tall dancer, and her song, and he fancied he heard the ring of her anklet-bells. He glanced upwards to the latticed windows of the apartments over the peristyle on his left, expecting to see there a light and some signs that they were occupied. But they were still dark and silent and empty, as they had now been for many months. At length his Land-Steward, Mir Niaz Ahmad, reappeared from the archway, followed by two men : the first, Nur Hasan, the headman of the Nawab's village of Gambhira, a man of about forty, sturdy and broad-shouldered, but lean of habit, his features large and coarsely cut, a typical example of the agricultural Shekhs of the Upper Ganges plain. He was dressed in a short jacket of white cotton and a loin-cloth hanging loosely below his knees.

Following him was the village bailiff, Fateh Khan, known as Fattu, an oldish man of short stature, bony frame and grizzled beard. ' Well, Fattu,' said Bahadur Khan, addressing the latter, ' what business brings you to us at this hour ? Speak up promptly.' ' Let Nur Hasan speak,' replied the man, shifting his bamboo staff from his right to his left hand, to bow low before his master. ' Let him speak. It is he who makes this business urgent and troubles your Excellency.' The peasant saluted the Nawab with the salam, and bowed low, both hands pressed to his forehead, and then waited for the Nawab to address him. ' And on you be peace,' said Bahadur Khan, returning his salutation. ' So it is you, Nurii. I think I have not spoken with you since your narrow escape from finding a lodging with your son in the gaol at Hafizganj.' ' Khudawand, my lord,' replied the man, with uncouth submissiveness of manner. ' I brought my yearly offering to your assembly at the Id festival, and made my submission.

But we were many — the headmen of fifty villages of your domain — and I may have escaped my lord's notice.' ' I did not say you had not been present here, but that we had not conversed,' returned the Nawab, with a sarcastic smile. ' Had you not been among our visitors at the Id feast, we should have no doubt remarked your absence. No more troubles, I hope, from your transactions with the graziers beyond the river ?' The peasant smiled deprecatingly. 'Then, speak without further ceremony, brother,' said the Nawab sharply. ' What brings you here at this untimely hour?' ' May my lord live long and prosper !' replied the peasant. ' There is trouble in my house.' He looked round at the servants, who had drawn near to listen to the conversation. The Nawab understood the glance, and, with an imperious wave of his hand and a half-articulated order, dismissed the listeners out of earshot. 'The women?' said Bahadur Khan interroga tively. ' My lord will remember,' he replied ; ' my son was sent to prison for four years, and for three already he has lain rotting in that pestilent Meerut gaol.' ' I remember,' returned the Nawab, nodding. ' The police tracked stolen cattle to his herd in the grazing lands by the river.

He was a sturdy scamp, that son of yours ; but he managed his business badly. A pity ! But what next ?' Nur Hasan now for the first time looked up in the Nawab's face, and the blaze of the chandelier fell upon his features. His eyes were restless and bloodshot ; his lips dry and cracked as with fever ; the expression on his countenance was haggard and wild. He dropped his eyes before the cool, observant glance of Bahadur Khan, and, hanging down his head again, replied : ' My lord knows all these things. My son's wife lived with us — as a widowed daughter in our house — widowed three years ago.' 'Well? The old tale, I suppose,' put in the Nawab, as the man hesitated. ' She has disappeared. We missed her soon after nightfall, and not a trace of her can we find.' 'And her seducer? Whom do you suspect?' inquired Bahadur Khan. ' I charge no one — nay, I know nothing,' replied the man, his eyes fixed on the Nawab's feet. ' But this I have learnt : that Muhammad Kasim has left the village.' In reply to a look of inquiry from his master, Fattu the bailiff explained : ' He means young Kasim, son of his cousin, Inayat Ali.

Your Excellency knows there is a standing feud between the two branches of the house.' ' A curious coincidence, perhaps,' remarked the Nawab, glancing at the Land-Steward, who said dryly : ' No doubt, your Excellency, very remarkable.' ' Your old feud is as lively as ever, I suppose ?' said the Nawab. ' My lord knows well,' replied the peasant huskily. ' Inayat is ever watching to destroy me and mine. Even now I fear he is plotting against me.' ' You are a well-matched pair, brother, you and Inayat,' replied the Nawab, smiling contemptuously. ' You are drawn from the same stock.' Then, in a sharp, peremptory tone, he said : ' Niaz Ahmad here tells me you insist on going to the magistrate at Hafizganj about this business. You no doubt know that no tenant of mine is permitted to apply to the Faringi courts without my sanction.' 2—2 ' I am distracted with this shame which has befallen my house,' replied the man, still hanging down his head. ' I came first to my lord for advice and help.' ' Tell me, then,' said the Nawab : ' what do you wish to do at court to-morrow ?' ' I must file a petition on stamp-paper for record, that my son's wife has disappeared.

I do not trust the police. I must beg of the magistrate that search may be made for the woman and for Muhammad Kasim, and I must warn him that I fear Inayat, my enemy, is contriving some plot against me, I know not what.1 Bahadur Khan stood silent a moment, looking down on the peasant, struck by his downcast demeanour and the convulsive grip of his hands in the folds of his waist-cloth. At length he said : ' Your son's wife has fled from your protection ; you know not where she is concealed, but you suspect Muhammad Kasim of having abducted her?' The man bowed silent assent. 'Tell me,' continued the Nawab: 'had you any reason before last night to suspect there was an intrigue between them ?' ' None, my lord — none whatever,' replied the peasant hastily. ' Then, what motive can have induced her to fly ?

Such women indulge their guilty love in secret under the shadow of their husband's roof.' ' Indeed it is so ; my lord speaks the truth,' replied the peasant. ' I cannot tell why she fled, or how. Nothing happened in our household to cause her disquiet. She was as our own daughter, cherished and loved. I cannot tell what drove her away, unless ' He hesitated. ' Unless what ?' replied Bahadur Khan ' My lord,' replied Nur Hasan, in a low voice, 'unless she feared the exposure of her shame — unless she saw that discovery of her guilty love was inevitable. It is three years since she saw her husband.' ' I understand,' said Bahadur Khan. ' You searched the village and raised a hue and cry ?' ' My lord, I inquired and searched but little. She was gone, and I was shamed.' ' You mean that the people in the village have not yet learnt of her flight ?' ' I have told no one,' replied the man. ' No one but Fattu, whom I found here; outside our household none know of my shame.

But what I fear now is that my enemy Inayat may be contriving some plot, for his son Kasim is gone, too. He will surely contrive some lie to protect the seducer and entangle me. 'Ah!' said the Nawab dryly. 'You would now take timely measures to divert the current of sus picion at its source. Yes, and, to do this, publish the shame of your house and your son in the courts of Hafizganj. Yet surely, brother, this will seem strange conduct for a Kuraishi Shekh, a man of honourable blood and pride such as you. Will not your enemy scoff and spit scornfully at the name of one whose son's wife is a harlot ?' ' My lord,' replied the peasant, raising his eyes for a moment to scrutinize the Nawab's face, and quickly dropping them again, ' I have been distraught at this sudden blow. My unfortunate son is my only child ; his wife was a sacred charge to me and to his mother.

If my son curses us when he returns home, what answer can we give, but to bow down our heads in shame ? God's curse fall on the woman and her lover !' ' Ay, curse them ! — you speak well, brother,' said the Nawab gravely. But he added, with a con temptuous expression on his countenance : ' But you Shekhs, you are cunning, and hide the fire of your passion and revenge under a cloak of dissimula tion, such as a Kayasth clerk might weave.' Nur Hasan threw his turban at the Nawab's feet, and bent forward, almost touching the carpet of the dais with his forehead, the long, snaky locks of his iron-gray hair falling over his temples. ' My lord,' he cried, ' I am here in your hands. This is no time for reproach. I have been struck down by a heavy blow, and if help is possible it is for you to give it.' ' Cover yourself, brother,' said the Nawab coldly. ' I will see what may be done.' He then turned to Fattu the bailiff, and asked quietly : ' Tell me, Fattu, are there antelopes about Gambhira in these days ?