By-Ways of Bombay | Page 5

producing a roll of pink papers and
waving them before his audience, describes them as the Prayer-treasure
of the Heavenly Throne ("Duai Ganjul Arsh"), Allah's greatest gift to
the Prophet. "The Prophet and his children," he continues, "treasured
this prayer; for before it fled the evil spirits of possession, disease and
difficulty. Nor hath its virtue faded in these later days. In Saharanpur,
hark ye, dwelt a woman, rich, prosperous and childless, and unto her I
gave this prayer telling her to soak it in water once a month and drink
thereafter. And lo! in two months by the favour of Allah she conceived,
and my fame was spread abroad among men. The troubles of others
also have I lightened with this prayer,--even a woman possessed by a
Jinn, under whose face I burned the prayer, so that the evil spirit fled."
He asks from two to four annas for the prayer sheet and finds many a
purchaser in the crowd; and now and again he rolls the sheet into a thin
tube and ties it round the neck of a sick child or round the arm of a sick
woman, whom faith in Allah urges into the presence of the peripathetic
healer. "Oh, ye lovers of the beauties of the Prophet," he cries, "Faith is
the greatest of cures. Have faith and ye have all! Know ye not that
Allah bade the Prophet never pray for them that lacked faith nor pray
over the graves of those of little faith!"

Hark, through the hum of the crowd, above the rumble of wheels and
the jangle of bullock-bells, rises the plaintive chant of the Arab
hymn-singers, leading the corpse of a brother to the last "mukam" or
resting-place; while but a short distance away,--only a narrow street's
length,--the drum and flageolets escort the stalwart young Memon
bridegroom unto the house of the bride. Thus is it ever in this city of
strange contrasts. Life and Death in closest juxtaposition, the hymn in
honour of the Prophet's birth blending with the elegy to the dead.
Bag-pipes are not unknown in the Musalman quarters of Bombay; and
not infrequently you may watch a crescent of ten or twelve wild Arab
sailors in flowing brown gowns and parti-coloured head-scarves
treading a measure to the rhythm of the bagpipes blown by a younger
member of their crew. The words of the tune are the old words "La
illaha illallah," set to an air endeared from centuries past to the
desert-roving Bedawin, and long after distance has dulled the tread of
the dancing feet the plaintive notes of the refrain reach you upon the
night breeze. About midnight the silent streets are filled with the
long-drawn cry of the shampooer or barber, who by kneading and
patting the muscles induces sleep for the modest sum of 4 annas; and
barely has his voice died away than the Muezzin's call to prayer falls on
the ear of the sleeper, arouses in his heart thoughts of the past glory of
his Faith, and forces him from his couch to wash and bend in prayer
before Him "Who fainteth not, Whom neither sleep nor fatigue
overtaketh."
During the hot months of the year the closeness of the rooms and the
attacks of mosquitoes force many a respectable householder to shoulder
his bedding and join the great army of street-sleepers, who crowd the
footpaths and open spaces like shrouded corpses. All sorts and
conditions of men thus take their night's rest beneath the
moon,--Rangaris, Kasais, bakers, beggars, wanderers, and artisans,--the
householder taking up a small position on the flags near his house, the
younger and unmarried men wandering further afield to the nearest
open space, but all lying with their head towards the north for fear of
the anger of the Kutb or Pole star.
"Kibla muaf karta hai, par Kutb hargiz nahin!" The Kibla forgives, but

the Kutb never!
The sights and sounds vary somewhat at different seasons of the year.
During Ramazan, for example, the streets are lined with booths and
stalls for the sale of the rice-gruel or "Faludah" which is so grateful a
posset to the famishing Faithful, hurrying dinnerless to the nearest
mosque. When the evening prayer is over and the first meal has been
taken, the coffee-shops are filled with smokers, the verandahs with men
playing 'chausar' or drafts, while the air is filled with the cries of iced
drink sellers and of beggars longing to break their fast also. Then about
8 p.m., as the hour of the special Ramazan or "Tarawih" prayer draws
nigh, the mosque beadle, followed by a body of shrill-voiced boys,
makes his round of the streets, crying "Namaz tayar hai, cha-lo-o," and
all the dwellers in the Musalman quarter hie them to the house of
prayer.
It is in