Back The Collected Novels
Chapters (53)
  1. Cover
  2. Khushwant Singh
  3. COLLECTED NOVELS
  4. Books by the Same Author
  5. Introduction
  6. Train to Pakistan
  7. Dedication
  8. Dacoity
  9. Kalyug
  10. Mano Majra
  11. Karma
  12. I Shall Not Hear The Nightingale
  13. Dedication
  14. Please Read This Note Before Reading the Novel
  15. Characters in the Story
  16. Chapter I
  17. Chapter II
  18. Chapter III
  19. Chapter IV
  20. Chapter V
  21. Chapter VI
  22. Chapter VII
  23. Chapter VIII
  24. Chapter IX
  25. Chapter X
  26. Chapter XI
  27. Chapter XII
  28. Chapter XIII
  29. Delhi
  30. Dedication
  31. Delhi
  32. Lady J.H.T.
  33. Bhagmati
  34. Musaddi Lal
  35. Bhagmati
  36. The Timurid
  37. Bhagmati
  38. The Untouchables
  39. Bhagmati
  40. Aurangzeb Alamgir: Emperor of Hindustan
  41. Bhagmati
  42. Nadir Shah
  43. Bhagmati
  44. Meer Taqi Meer
  45. Bhagmati
  46. 1857
  47. Bhagmati
  48. The Builders
  49. Bhagmati
  50. The Dispossessed
  51. Bhagmati
  52. A Note from the Author
  53. Footnotes

On 6 November 1738, kettle drums were biaten and we started our long march to Delhi. It had already turned cold. In the valleys through which we passed the nights were bitter with frost. The tribes which inhabited the region between Kabul and plains of the Punjab, being robbers by nature, often looted our baggage. We would have liked to have taught them a lesson but the affairs of Hindustan demanded that we quicken our steps.

We arrived at the western mouth of the Khyber. We had been told that this pass was like a trap and that large bands of robbers had assembled on the mountaintops to prey on us. We made a brief halt and joined our men for the maghreb prayer. As the sun was about to set we gave orders to strike camp and proceed forward. While the robbers slept in the warmth of their quilts we rode through the fifty miles of the treacherous defile with no light to guide us save that of the stars that twinkled in the clear, cold sky. By the time the robbers were rubbing their eyes to the rising sun we were on the outskirts of the city of Peshawar. We captured Peshawar without any difficulty.

We pressed on. We crossed the broad stream of the Indus after which this country is named and entered the vast champaign of the Punjab so named after the five (punj) rivers (ab) that flow through it. The land was flatter than any we had visited, but at that time of the year, not unpleasing to the eye. For many marches the snowcapped hills were visible towards the north and the west. How much more beautiful snows appear at a distance than when one has to wade through them!

The skies were as blue as lapis lazuli; the sun as warm as amethyst. The khaki plains were dotted with oases of green wheat, mustard and sugarcane. There was an abundance of game: partridges, peacocks and herds of deer. Many varieties of waterfowl swarmed over the ponds and rives. We were told that tigers, panthers and leopards were also to be found in plenty. In the middle of these islands of prosperity were villages walled like fortresses. Most of the inhabitants—being Muslim—knew that we had come to save the country from the infidel Marathas and were friendly towards us. For provisions that we took from them we paid in silver and gold. If our men were found taking anything by force we had their heads chopped off; if they molested Indian women we had them castrated and gave their month’s wage and their testicles to their victims.