FilmIndia (Jan-Nov 1942)

FILMINDIA March 1942 consulted Arif the astrologer; and Arif heard him out grave-eyed, saying little. "You prophesied all my victories." said Shah Alam Khan. "You prophesied also— do you rememberthat I should win the crowns of twenty kingdoms, but that no more than nineteen should adorn my Trophy House. Those words have been fulfilled, for I am finished with warfare for ever; and by their fulfilment 1 know that you speak truth. Tell me, now, Arif — what shall I do to find peace?" Arif reflected. "Majesty," he said at length, "it ma> be that the twentieth crown is no earthly one, but the crown of quiet happiness that they wear who have learned the folly of this life's vanities, and laid the world aside, seeking instead the things that are of Allah. Why not make a pilgrimage to the sacred places, Majesty, praying at the shrines of the saints, and learning wisdom and comfort from the holy hermits?" "You are the first who has ever dared offer me such advice, Arif," said Shah Alam Khan. "It may well be that you are right. At any rate I can try." So he set forth, not in great state, but quietly dressed and with only a small escort, for the sacred places of his faith. From one to another he travelled, living simply, spending long hours in prayer and meditation, and presently something like peace began to steal into his heart. His escort — a little party of picked men, with General Salaar at their head — wondered mightily. Presently it came to his ears that there was the tomb of a very holy saint, one Munjin, in a little oasis of the desert a few days' journey away. Thither they went. "And indeed it is most fitting that I should make pilgrimage to this shrine," said Shah Alam Khan, "for Munjin in his lifetime was a king, even as I, and gave up his throne and all his pomp and glory for the sake of living a holy life. It may be that I shall find healing there. THE ROYAL SAINT When they were within a few miles of the saint's tomb he and his escort halted their camels. "Await me here," he said, and set forth to accomplish the last stage of the jour ney on foot, humbly, as became a pilgrim; and so came by morning light to his goal — a mausoleum beautifully built, and set in the midst of a small green garden. Within, the place was kept in exquisite order by an old, old hermit, bent, whitebearded, and with the infinitely serene face of one who has left all worldly things behind. He made Shah Alam Khan courteously welcome. He recounted the story of Munjin — his noble life, his holy death, his gifts of healing the sick and blessing the afflicted; the miracles he was reputed to have wrought. He showed Shah Alam Khan the saint's tomb itself — a plain raised oblong set with a mosaic of palest green jade. "Many, many the pilgrims who, guided hither by Allah's will, have found peace, and rest and refreshment of the soul," the old hermit said. "And here, my son, behold the very symbol of all that Munjin sacrificed when he gave up his kingly life for that of a holy man in the wilderness." He went with his unhurrying gait to the wall beyond the jade tomb. Nur Jehan in "Khan Daan", a Pancholi production. A little flight of narrow steps led up to two curtains of ancient brocade, embroidered with texts from the Holy Koran; the old man pulled them carefully aside. Shah Alam Khan looked and gasped. In the recess of the wall was a jewelled crown of such surpassing beauty and richness that he had never seen nor imagined its like. Every gem was represented there, and the workmanship was exquisite; in the pale light of the small, sacred place it glimmered like a thing alive. Of all the crowns that Shah Alam Khan had won for his own there was none to compare with this. He forgot all else in that moment. His new austerity melted like smoke; his old passionate greed of gain flamed up anew, overwhelmingly. He strode forward, brushing the old hermit aside, to see and examine the lovely thing for himself. He laid swift, masterful hands on it, and brought it down from its resting place. "My son, what are you doing? This is sacrilege!" the old hermit quavered, horrified; and, since Shah Alam Khan took no notice, caught at his cloak and tugged it protestingly. Shah Alam Khan — humble pilgrim no longer, but insulted king — wheeled, instantly furious, and made to strike the old man down. He forgot in his anger that he was standing on the little flight of steps that gave access to the alcove which housed the crown. He missed his footing, stumbled, lost his balance, and fell sideways. His head struck the corner of the jade tomb, very violently; and he lay still, his fingers slowly stiffening in death about the glowing, living brilliance of the royal saint's crown. And there lay the conqueror of kingdoms and crowns — a poor victim of his burning desire. 78