"Deen! deen! deen!" he cried, dancing around as he shrilly voiced the fanatic call to massacre--the dread call which through the centuries has drenched with human blood a thousand shrines, both Moslem mosques and Hindu temples.
"Subah!" shouted the Afghan general, half rising, his hand on his sword hilt. "Stop that, you son of a dog, or I will make you meat for jackals. Subah!" At the reiterated stern command the dancing figure became instantly rigid. Then, just as suddenly as he had leaped from his crouching attitude, the fakir sank to the ground in a huddled heap, his face buried in the dust.
"You would be happier to-day, O man of many sorrows, had you followed the philosophy of 'kooch perwani'--had you said to yourself: 'What is done is done, and cannot be undone. Let it pass. Kooch perwani--no matter.'"
It was the Rajput who was speaking, in rebuke yet in commiseration.
"Even when all seemed lost" continued the Hindu soldier, "you should have forgotten the blue diamonds, the abiding greed for which was the real cause of your undoing; you should have forgotten your lost wealth and honourable position, your dear ones gone to the abode of bliss, the enemies who had despitefully used you but who, as your own religion teaches, were in truth only God's emissaries sent to punish you for your sins. It is the philosophy of 'kooch perwani' that teaches us to forget the dead past, do the work of the vital present, and by doing it aright build for the future an edifice of happiness and contentment. Had you followed that philosophy, O fakir, you might have been again to-day rich in the good things of the world."
The mendicant raised his face from the dust. "To which I reply, O prince,--kooch perwani. By the ordeals through which I have passed I have come to learn that the treasures of this world are of no account. Therefore is my philosophy to-day greater than your own. You wear costly robes, I the loin cloth of the beggar. Kooch perwani; for when death comes, we are equals. There is no pocket to a shroud."
"In my case the philosophy of life is of the simplest," remarked the Afghan general. "I neither crave the wealth of the prince, nor do I inflict upon myself the mortifications of the ascetic. For the one rich robes and the sceptre, for the other a loin cloth and a begging-bowl; but for me the good sword that commands respect from my enemies, confidence from my friends, and my due share of the good things of existence. In this frame of mind I find the full measure of joy in each day that passes."