They would have called themselves Katis, but the Muslims surrounding them had for centuries called them Kafirs - infidels - and their land, thus came to be known as Kafiristan One day in 1897, near the village Brumotul not far from Chitral, then a semi-independent Muslim state high in the Himalayas, a bunch of boys went walking. They were not Chitralis, but refugees from another place that lay west of the newly demarcated Durand Line. They were not Muslims, either. The boys would have described themselves as Katis, but the Muslims surrounding them had for centuries used “Kafir” to describe the boys’ ancestors, and “Kafiristan” for their original land. The British had retained that nomenclature for the portion of that land they now controlled, while the Afghan Amir, Abdur Rahman, whose invasion had made the boys refugees, had named his portion “Nuristan” (“The Land of Light”). The boys stopped on a bridge to watch two “Sahibs” fishing in the stream below, not having seen their likes before. One of the sportsmen came over to them and said something in Khowar, one of the several languages spoken among the Kafirs. One Kati boy understood what was said; he asked his friends to find earthworms for the Sahib. Later, he and another boy carried the day’s catch to the Sahibs’ camp. The man who spoke to the boys was an army doctor named Capt; the Kati boy who understood him was named Azar. Something about the boy struck Harris as exceptional. He sent for him the following day and almost obsessively insisted that Azar—barely ten or eleven at the time—should join his service. Azar offered excuses, his mother cried, but his father, Kashmir, the leader of the clan, gave his permission. Azar became Harris’s servant—first for 18 months at Chitral, and then for two years at Peshawar. Meanwhile, Kashmir was killed by some relatives when he was on his way to Kabul—after converting to Islam—to meet the Amir and seek from him his previous high status. In June of 1900 Harris was dispatched to China to help suppress the “Boxer Rebellion,” while Azar stayed with the Captain’s spinster sister. However, when she decided to return to England at the end of the year, Azar refused to accompany her. He insisted on staying in service in the army with the Punjabi soldiers he had come to like, and who had been very kind to him. Miss Harris then handed him over to a Capt. A.A. James. Soon after, Azar fell seriously ill, and during that illness took a vow to become a Muslim on regaining health. After recovery, Azar made his wish known to James, who was not pleased. It was not what Harris had wanted, who, in fact, had given everyone strict instructions against it. (For the record, Harris had never sought to make Azar a Christian.) Seeing Azar’s determination, however, James took the necessary steps and obtained the required permission from the Political Department. One Friday, Azar converted to Islam, and took on a new name: Shaikh Muhammad Abdullah Khan. His devotion to Capt. James, however, and the latter’s manifold kindness to him remained unchanged. A few years later, in the summer of 1905, when Abdullah was at the mountain resort of Murree with his master, he was overwhelmed by a longing for his ancestral homeland. A new ambition also took hold of him. He got the idea of accomplishing what his father had died trying to do—return to the original home in Afghanistan and become the leader of his people. With James’s help, a petition was prepared and—after Abdullah put his thumbprint on it—sent to concerned authorities. Several British officers helped in forwarding the cause. Abdullah eventually got an audience with the new ruler of Afghanistan when the latter visited India, but, not knowing Persian, he could not converse with him. Promises were made—or so Abdullah thought—but nothing happened. Then James had a serious accident, forcing him to return to England. That is where Abdullah’s story, as told by him, ends. It is now available to us in a remarkable book. (Shaikh Muhammad Abdullah Khan
They would have called themselves Katis, but the Muslims surrounding
ReplyDeletethem had for centuries called them Kafirs - infidels - and their land,
thus came to be known as Kafiristan
One day in 1897, near the village Brumotul not far from Chitral, then
a semi-independent Muslim state high in the Himalayas, a bunch of boys
went walking. They were not Chitralis, but refugees from another place
that lay west of the newly demarcated Durand Line. They were not
Muslims, either. The boys would have described themselves as Katis,
but the Muslims surrounding them had for centuries used “Kafir” to
describe the boys’ ancestors, and “Kafiristan” for their original
land. The British had retained that nomenclature for the portion of
that land they now controlled, while the Afghan Amir, Abdur Rahman,
whose invasion had made the boys refugees, had named his portion
“Nuristan” (“The Land of Light”).
The boys stopped on a bridge to watch two “Sahibs” fishing in the
stream below, not having seen their likes before. One of the sportsmen
came over to them and said something in Khowar, one of the several
languages spoken among the Kafirs. One Kati boy understood what was
said; he asked his friends to find earthworms for the Sahib. Later, he
and another boy carried the day’s catch to the Sahibs’ camp. The man
who spoke to the boys was an army doctor named Capt; the Kati boy who
understood him was named Azar. Something about the boy struck Harris
as exceptional. He sent for him the following day and almost
obsessively insisted that Azar—barely ten or eleven at the time—should
join his service. Azar offered excuses, his mother cried, but his
father, Kashmir, the leader of the clan, gave his permission. Azar
became Harris’s servant—first for 18 months at Chitral, and then for
two years at Peshawar. Meanwhile, Kashmir was killed by some relatives
when he was on his way to Kabul—after converting to Islam—to meet the
Amir and seek from him his previous high status.
In June of 1900 Harris was dispatched to China to help suppress the
“Boxer Rebellion,” while Azar stayed with the Captain’s spinster
sister. However, when she decided to return to England at the end of
the year, Azar refused to accompany her. He insisted on staying in
service in the army with the Punjabi soldiers he had come to like, and
who had been very kind to him. Miss Harris then handed him over to a
Capt. A.A. James.
Soon after, Azar fell seriously ill, and during that illness took a
vow to become a Muslim on regaining health. After recovery, Azar made
his wish known to James, who was not pleased. It was not what Harris
had wanted, who, in fact, had given everyone strict instructions
against it. (For the record, Harris had never sought to make Azar a
Christian.) Seeing Azar’s determination, however, James took the
necessary steps and obtained the required permission from the
Political Department. One Friday, Azar converted to Islam, and took on
a new name: Shaikh Muhammad Abdullah Khan. His devotion to Capt.
James, however, and the latter’s manifold kindness to him remained
unchanged.
A few years later, in the summer of 1905, when Abdullah was at the
mountain resort of Murree with his master, he was overwhelmed by a
longing for his ancestral homeland. A new ambition also took hold of
him. He got the idea of accomplishing what his father had died trying
to do—return to the original home in Afghanistan and become the leader
of his people. With James’s help, a petition was prepared and—after
Abdullah put his thumbprint on it—sent to concerned authorities.
Several British officers helped in forwarding the cause. Abdullah
eventually got an audience with the new ruler of Afghanistan when the
latter visited India, but, not knowing Persian, he could not converse
with him. Promises were made—or so Abdullah thought—but nothing
happened. Then James had a serious accident, forcing him to return to
England.
That is where Abdullah’s story, as told by him, ends. It is now
available to us in a remarkable book. (Shaikh Muhammad Abdullah Khan