IIIF Color HighRes
National Institute of Informatics - Digital Silk Road Project
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| IIIF Color HighRes |
| Overland to India : vol.1 |
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Citation Information
Ito OVERLAND TO INDIA CHAP.
appetites. There stands a white pillau, a rice pudding pr à la chinoise ; while the next dish is loaded with chicken ill mince surrounded by a wall of rice ; a third contains a pile /11 of kebab or balls of finely chopped mutton, and a fourth Pt small cubes of shislik, which have scarcely ceased to sputter 41 over the embers. A separate dish is placed before me ;
the other gentlemen eat together with their fingers. But si I am a kafir in their eyes, and Mohammedans do not eat from the same dish as a heathen. They do not say so, 011 but put it that they are not worthy to touch with their fingers the same pillau as so distinguished a guest.
All the dishes are brought in at the same time, and
one can take what one likes best. We sit on our heels
with our knees on the carpets, leaning forward and resting
the left elbow on the knee, while the disengaged right Ill
hand is thrust into the pile. Sitting continuously without Ill
growing tired, and without the legs becoming numbed, the r
guests occasionally sit upright for a time, when a servant r
brings out a silver-mounted kalian or water-pipe, and a 1
glowing ember is laid in the iron bowl on the damp 11
tobacco. And then they eat again and take another puff, ti
and enjoy the good things of life with a deliberate refine- s
ment of luxury. Here are bowls of sour milk and small plates ofj5enir or cheese; there is sherab which is conveyed to the mouth in lancet-shaped wooden spoons, and here stand whole heaps of soft thin bread (nan) ; in a word, the dinner is only too bountiful, and when the host and his
brothers in the faith return to their cards, I take my leave a
to rest for the next day. Sujai-i-Nizam I never saw again,
for he kept up his revels till day, and as long as I lay r
awake I heard through the walls, thin as paper, the
bubbling sound of kalians, the chink of silver stivers, 1
and the accompaniment of the cithern and drum to the melancholy notes of the singer.
All was silent and peaceful in the house of feasting I
when I drove on next morning south-eastwards, between I
the villages Mollah Isuf and Kulli, surrounded by willows
and fruit trees, still higher towards the crest of the small I
range that rises between Marand and Tabriz. We follow a broad valley among low hills now of solid rock, now of
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