Feast of the Second New Year.
Alexander Rogers translation
In the second place it became known that the governor of Farāh and a number of the officers of that neighbourhood had taken it into their heads, after the death of the late king, that in this confusion Qandahar might easily fall into their hands, and without waiting for an order from S͟hāh ʿAbbās had collected together and won over the Chief of Sewistān (Sīstān). Sending someone to Ḥusain K͟hān, the governor of Herat they asked for support from him. He also sent a force. After that they turned to attack Qandahar. S͟hāh Beg K͟hān, the governor of that place, seeing that battle has two heads, and that if (which God forbid!) he should be defeated he would lose possession of Qandahar, thought that to confine himself in a fort would be better than to fight. He therefore determined to hold the fort, and sent quick messengers to the Court. It happened that at this time the royal standards had started from Agra in pursuit of K͟husrau, and had arrived at Lahore. Immediately on hearing this news (from S͟hāh Beg K͟hān), a large force was sent off of amirs and mansabdars under Mīrzā G͟hāzī. Before the Mīrzā reached Qandahar the news had been carried to the S͟hāh (of Persia) that the governor of Farāh, with some of the jagirdars of that neighbourhood, had proceeded towards the province of Qandahar. Considering this an improper proceeding, he sent Ḥusain Beg, a well-known man and one of his own intimates to make enquiries. He also sent a farman in their names that they should move away from the vicinity of Qandahar and go to their own places and abodes, because the friendship and amity of his ancestors with the dignified family of Jahāngīr Pāds͟hāh were of old standing. That body, before the arrival of Ḥusain Beg and the King’s order, not being able to oppose the royal army, considered the opportunity of returning a favourable one. The said Ḥusain Beg censured the men and started off to wait on me, which he had the honour to do at Lahore. He explained that the ill-fated army which had attacked Qandahar had acted without the order of S͟hāh ʿAbbās. God forbid (he said) that in consequence of this any unpleasantness should remain in my mind. In short, after the victorious troops reached Qandahar, they, according to orders, delivered the fort over to Sardār K͟hān, and S͟hāh Beg K͟hān returned to Court with the relieving force.
On the 27th Ẕī-l-qaʿda, ʿAbdu-llah K͟hān, having brought Rām Chand Bandīlah into captivity and chains, brought him before me. I ordered them to take the fetters from his legs, and bestowed on him a robe of honour, and handed him over to Rāja Bāso that he might take security and release him and a number of his relations who had been captured with him. This through my clemency and kindness came to pass. He had never imagined such clemency and kindness as I showed to him.
“In the bottom of the water, from its clearness, a blind man
Can count the sand-grains in the heart of the night.”
K͟hwāja S͟hamsu-d-dīn Muḥammad K͟hwāfī, who was for long employed as Vizier by my revered father, had made a platform and a reservoir there, into which is led the water from the spring, and thence is used in cultivation and in gardens. On the edge of this terrace he had built a dome for his own burial. By chance his destiny was not there, and (the bodies of) Ḥakīm Abū-l-fatḥ Gīlānī and his brother Ḥakīm Humām, who were close to the person and had the complete confidence of my revered father, were placed in that dome in accordance with his order.
To each of the band of Bug͟hrāʾiyān I gave a dress of honour, and also gave 1,000 rupees to divide amongst themselves. To twelve of the trustworthy courtiers I ordered 12,000 rupees to be given, to be bestowed every Thursday, as long as I was in Kabul, on the poor and needy. I gave an order that between two plane-trees that were on the canal bank in the middle of the garden—to one of which I had given the name of Farāḥ-bak͟hs͟h (joy-giver) and the other Sāya-bak͟hs͟h (shade-giver)—they should set up a piece of white stone (marble?) one gaz in length and three-quarters of a gaz in breadth, and engrave my name thereon (and those of my ancestors) up to Tīmūr. It was set forth on the other side that I had done away with the whole of the customs dues and charges of Kabul, and whichever of my descendants and successors should do anything contrary to this would be involved in the wrath and displeasure of God. Up to the time of my accession these were fixed and settled, and every year they took large sums on this account from the servants of God (the Muhammadan people in general). The abolition of this oppression was brought about during my reign. On this journey to Kabul complete relief and contentment were brought about in the circumstances of my subjects and the people of that place. The good and leading men of G͟haznīn and that neighbourhood were presented with robes of honour and dealt kindly with, and had their desires excellently gratified.
“We have a pleasant physician: come, let as all be ill.”
Ḥakīm ʿAlī, who was his contemporary, exceeded him in skill. In short, in medical skill and auspiciousness and rectitude and purity of method and disposition he was perfect. Other physicians of the age could not compare with him. In addition to his medical skill he had many excellencies. He had perfect loyalty towards me. He built at Lahore a house of great pleasantness and purity, and repeatedly asked me to honour it (with my presence). As I was very fond of pleasing him I consented. In short, the aforesaid Ḥakīm, from his connection with me and being my physician, had great skill in the management of affairs and business of the world, so that for some time at Allahabad I made him Diwan of my establishment. On account of his great honesty he was very exacting in important business, and people were vexed at this method of proceeding. For about twenty years he had ulcerated lungs, and by his wisdom preserved in some measure his health. When he was talking he mostly coughed so much that his cheek and eyes became red, and by degrees his colour became blue. I often said to him: “Thou art a learned physician; why dost thou not cure thy own wounds?” He represented that wounds in the lungs were not of such a nature that they could be cured. During his illness one of his confidential servants put poison into some medicine he was in the habit of taking every day and gave it to him. When he perceived this he took remedies for it. He objected very much to be bled, although this was necessary. It happened that he was going to the privy when his cough overcame him and opened the wounds in his lungs. So much blood poured out of his mouth and brain that he became insensible and fell, and made a fearful cry. An āftābachī (ewer-bearer) becoming aware of this, came into the assembly-room, and seeing him smeared with blood cried out: “They have killed the ḥakīm.” After examining him it was seen that there was no sign of wounds on his body, and that it was the same wound in the lungs that had begun to flow. They informed Qilīj K͟hān, who was the Governor of Lahore, and he, having ascertained the true state of the affair, buried him. He left no capable son.
“If my weeping should cause her to smile, what wonder?
Though the cloud weep, the cheek of the rose-bush smiles.”