Horrified children stared until the man shouted, ‘Run to the river!’
Archers and men with swords swarmed toward them at a marching trot. The woman reached for the child’s hand, but she was swept away in the stampede. The man scooped the child into his arms and raced toward the water.
With a thud, the man fell. An arrow protruded from his thigh. He struggled to rise as the child staggered away from him. He called to her, but she was too distraught to hear. She wept for her mother and could not stop.
Jahani woke abruptly with such a feeling of bereftness. Why didn’t her mother save her? She opened her eyes and sighed. She was in the nomad women’s tent – not in that dream she often had as a child living in Sherwan with Hafeezah, her foster mother. ‘Ammi,’ she whispered.
Jahani rolled over and cuddled up to her heart sister Anjuli. Nearly four moons ago, her best friend Sameela had been killed; and on that same fateful day she discovered Hafeezah wasn’t her true mother. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the feelings of abandonment that often swamped her. No matter what Jahani knew, she would always think of Hafeezah as her ammi.
Anjuli’s arm curled around her. ‘Are you awake, Jahani bai?’
‘Chup, quiet,’ Jahani whispered. ‘It’s too early, go back to sleep.’
Jahani let her mind wander back to that day in summer, which began her journey with Azhar – her mysterious protector – and Hafeezah, to find her true family. They had travelled for a moon on horses over dangerous yet beautiful terrain to reach Naran, where she met her adoptive parents Baqir and Zarah. And now she was finally here with the nomads and her true birth mother, Yasmeen. She glanced to the mat next to her where Yasmeen was soundly sleeping. Jahani never would have thought she was a nomad, but she was tall and fair like them. And recently she felt as if she belonged and they accepted her. She loved riding on Chandi, her pari horse, in the open fields and mountains with the goats and sheep. Yazan, her snow leopard, filled her mind then. He was following the nomads and visited the camp at night to check on her.
Jahani smiled, hearing noises of the flocks stirring, a bleat from a sheep, a snort from a horse, and half a bray from a donkey. A bird called, and she thought of Azhar again, and his carpet. He could truly fly. That ride with him was astonishing …
Danger! Danger!
Jahani sat up as the urgent thought dropped into her mind, scattering her memories.
Danger! There it was again.
Suddenly she realised Chandi was warning her. Jahani checked under the flap of the tent. It was before dawn and she could just see Chandi rearing near the trees, pulling madly at her rope. Jahani raced out of the tent and immediately saw that, not only Chandi, all of the horses were disturbed. She ran across to Tafeeq, the nomad chieftain’s tent. He shared it with his son, Rahul, the nomad prince. She whispered urgently, ‘Uncle ji! Rahul! Uncle ji!’
Seconds later Tafeeq emerged, pulling on his long coat. ‘What is the matter?’
‘I had a dream … Then Chandi, my horse, she warned …’ Jahani faltered. Would he believe her? It was only recently that she had been able to communicate with Chandi through her thoughts. It was a rare thing to be able to do.
Tafeeq’s serious expression didn’t falter as he squinted into the darkness beyond the horses. Perhaps he was used to Jahani’s mother’s dreams. Yasmeen was a pir and also Tafeeq’s sister. ‘Rahul,’ he hissed. ‘Get up, beta! Rouse the men to unhobble the horses and have swords at the ready. Something is amiss.’ He turned to Jahani. ‘Stay in your tent. Do not come out. Tell the other women, also.’
‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘The war lord, Muzahid’s soldiers perhaps. As soon as the sun rises they will attack. Now go.’
Jahani ran back to the tent hoping that Tafeeq was wrong. Even though she had fled Muzahid on the eve of their wedding, she had thought he would never find her, especially after the nomads had dyed and plaited her red hair and dressed her in their clothing. Baqir had arranged the marriage without her consent.
She woke everyone in the tent – Anjuli first to translate in case she didn’t portray the right level of urgency. Anjuli had been Jahani’s constant companion since they’d rescued her from a burning village. It was a miracle she had survived. Fortunately for Jahani, Anjuli knew the nomads’ language, which Jahani was still learning, and helped Jahani to communicate to the women.
‘Wake up, danger,’ Jahani whispered, and the women groaned. ‘We must be quiet,’ she added as questions flew at her. ‘Chup! There may be an attack.’
Jahani paused as Neema pulled out a sword from under her mat. Neema hadn’t wanted her there when she first came; she said Jahani was dangerous and, with a sinking heart, Jahani knew she had been right. They were all in danger now because of her.
‘What?’ Neema said.
‘Do you fight?’ Jahani asked, half in the nomad mother tongue and half in Hindustani.
Neema understood. ‘Zarur, certainly,’ she answered in the same way. So, she could speak some Hindustani. ‘This is my husband’s sword.’ Neema continued. ‘Tafeeq has never stopped me fighting. Widows often do and even some wives.’
‘Afterward, maybe you can teach me.’
Neema stared at her.
Jahani continued, ‘I have a sword, too. I can use it, but I need more practice.’
Neema made a ‘show me’ sign with her hands.
Azhar had given Jahani the sword and her charmed horse Chandi. Because Azhar was her protector and had guided Jahani on her journey, he helped her flee to the nomads. He had said to keep the sword hidden, but surely that wouldn’t relate to the nomad women in times of danger. And she didn’t want to miss this opportunity to grow closer to Neema. Jahani pulled it out of the bag.
Neema’s eyes popped. ‘Where did you get this? Is it a relative’s?’ Her voice changed. ‘Did you steal it?’
‘Nay, it was a gift.’
‘Who gave it to you? It looks like something a queen would have with those gems on it. No ordinary person would be able to buy a sword like this.’
Jahani looked down at it, then glanced at Neema but didn’t respond.
‘Don’t worry,’ Neema said. ‘I won’t be stealing it. Cover it up again. It’s too good to use. It belongs on a wall in a rich man’s house.’
‘But I want to help you.’
‘I won’t need any help. The nomads aren’t an easy target. Our tribe is a trained army. We’ve had to be, moving around the way we do. You’d do better staying in here and keeping Yasmeen, Kamilah and Anjuli safe. And the others.’ She pointed her chin at them. Neema’s daughter Kamilah sat on a mat with her quilt tucked around her shoulders. Her eyes were wide, but she had a comforting arm around Anjuli.
Jahani asked Yasmeen and all the older women to sit on mats in the middle of the tent, so no swords could slash at them through the walls. Then she crouched by the opening. Neema knelt on the other side, half watching Jahani and half checking outside. The look on her face was stern and warned Jahani to stay inside. But Jahani stared out stubbornly.
They didn’t have long to wait. At first light armed men in grey uniforms crept into the quiet camp. She tensed remembering the men that had attacked them on the way to Naran. They had been dressed in brown shalwar qameezes and red turbans and were the men of Dagar Khan. So, these must be Muzahid Baig’s men – Tafeeq was right.
She watched as what seemed like hundreds of men surrounded the whole area. What had the attackers planned to do? Kill them while they slept? Still no alarm sounded. Didn’t Tafeeq and Rahul see them?
Suddenly she heard the call Rahul gave his hawk, and the nomads burst from their tents, swords raised.
The two groups of men combated in the nomads’ compound. Jahani saw Rahul momentarily fighting with a sword and his dagger at the same time. Others were slashing, their swords clashing as men fell. She closed her eyes when blood sprayed from a man’s shoulder. Some were wrestling on the ground. Jahani gasped as she spied two armed men racing
toward the women’s tent. With a whirl of his sword, a nomad boy tried to stop their advance, and Neema rushed out to assist him. But their opponents were fierce and the boy was weakening, even with Neema’s help. Soon the men would reach their tent if Jahani didn’t do something. Without a moment to lose, Jahani snuck around the back of the women’s tent, untied Chandi with trembling fingers and mounted.
Help Neema, Jahani thought.
But Chandi already knew. Be ready. Raise your sword, Shamsher. Chandi reared and galloped toward Neema’s opponents. Slice! Slice!
Jahani slashed down and one of the attackers fell back. The boy moved closer to Neema, and they held their ground.
Danger in tent.
Jahani twisted around and saw an armed man creeping through the flap.
Chandi galloped toward the tent, and Jahani slid to the ground just as the man was dragging out Kamilah. He had one hand over her mouth. Yasmeen was hanging onto his belt trying to stop him, but the man knocked her aside. Jahani watched in horror. She had already lost Hafeezah and Zarah, she couldn’t lose Yasmeen, too.
Chandi reared at the man; he threw Kamilah to the ground, raising his sword against the enraged horse. Jahani clenched the hilt of her sword. Could she fight on the ground?
Slice left before he does.
Jahani followed Chandi’s command.
Now right.
The man had one eye on Chandi as she pawed the ground like a wild dog, and he didn’t see Jahani’s blow coming until it was too late. Now he looked at her as if begging for mercy.
‘Get back in the tent,’ she shouted at Kamilah, mounting Chandi. They raced over to help Neema and the boy again as more and more men skidded into the area.
Jahani slashed right and left, following orders, but she knew it was the scimitar that was doing all the work, and Chandi who was parrying any blows.
Neema dispatched a man, and Jahani turned to see another man fall. Then one pulled on Jahani’s leg, dragging her from Chandi. Neema covered Jahani until she regained her footing, and then Jahani and Neema continued fighting back-to-back to keep the tent safe. That was until Chandi had enough: she reared and then bit the men’s raised arms; at the same time, another of Muzahid’s men ran over and beheaded Asif, the scout.
A horn sounded calling an end to the battle. As the men retreated, taking their wounded slung over horses, Jahani spotted Muzahid watching from the safety of the trees. His glance swept over her across the compound. For a moment she trembled, waiting to be recognised, but then she remembered he had never seen her face. And besides, even though her eyes were blue, the nomad women had dyed her red hair black. She was safely hidden in her own skin.
Neema was beside her then. ‘So you can fight, after all. I saw what you did for Kamilah.’ There was a measured look in her eyes that held no malice.
Kamilah’s wail broke into her thoughts. ‘Rahul. Rahul! Where’s Rahul?’
Main Characters
Kingdom of Hazara
Jahani (14)
Hafeezah Gulzar, Jahani’s mother
Sameela Malik Habib, Jahani’s friend (15)
Azhar Sekandar, Jahani’s protector (18)
Persia
Kifayat Ullah, former wazir of Nagir
Bilal Abdul, former wazir of Hahayul
Kingdom of Hahayul
Dagar Khan, former army commander of Hahayul and self-appointed mir of Hahayul
Pir Zal, a seer
Kingdom of Kaghan
Anjuli Singh (10), village girl
Rasheed and his son, Mikal, living at Lake Saiful Maluk
Baqir Abbaas, a landlord at Naran
Zarah Baqir, Baqir’s wife
Saman Abdul, commander of Baqir’s troop
Kingdom of Skardu
Muzahid Baig, a war lord, who also has a residence in Kaghan
The Nomads
Tafeeq Baseer, the nomad chieftain
Rahul Tafeeq, Tafeeq’s son, the nomad prince (20)
Yasmeen Baseer, a pir, Tafeeq’s sister and Jahani’s nomad mother
Neema and Arifah, nomad widows
Kamilah, Neema’s daughter
Animals
Chandi, Jahani’s mare
Rakhsh, Azhar’s stallion
Sitarah, Hafeezah’s mare
Zadi, Yazan’s mother
Yazan, Jahani’s leopard
Bili, Yazan’s sister
Layla, Rahul’s dog
Farah, Rahul’s mare
Bibi, Rahul’s hawk
Other
Shamsher, Jahani’s scimitar
A Note about Languages
Hindustani was widely spoken in the seventeenth century in the Mughal Empire, though Persian was used in the Mughal Courts and by officials. Burushaski was spoken by many in Hahayul (modern Hunza). The nomads knew Hindustani and Persian, but their mother tongue was Gujjari.
Since Hindustani was widely spoken, this is what most people in Daughter of Nomads speak, either as a mother tongue or second language. Jahani and Hafeezah speak Burushaski as a mother tongue, but they only speak it to each other until Azhar shows that he knows it also. Azhar has been brought up with Persian and he speaks this with his foster father, Kifayat, and also Bilal, the former wazir or prime minister of Hahayul. They all know a smattering of Arabic (except Anjuli) as this is their religious language.
The complexity of life living in many little kingdoms can be shown by the use of language but, besides a few Arabic words, I have chosen to use only three languages in the prose: Hindustani as the main one, Burushaski from the northern kingdoms, and a little Persian. Azhar’s words for the carpet are Urdu words derived from Persia. I have used alternate and older spellings for some placenames, such as Hahayul (Hunza), Nagir (Nagar), and Gilit (Gilgit), Hemalleh (Himalaya), and used the older spelling using ‘q’ instead of ‘k’ for Qurraqoram, Hindu Qush & Qashmir.
Thus words in the glossary are Hindustani (Urdu) or common to other languages, unless otherwise marked.
Glossary
abu dad
accha good
acho brother (Burushaski)
Alhumdulillah God be praised (Arabic)
ammi mum
Angrez English person/people
Angrezi rani English queen
ao come
Ashoka the Great an emperor who ruled most of the Indian subcontinent from 268–232 BCE
Assalamu Alaikum peace be upon you, hello (Arabic)
awa yes (Burushaski)
ayah nanny
aziz dear, beloved (Persian)
baba ji title of respect for an old man
badmarsh bandit
bai a form of endearment or respect in Hindustani
baleh yes (Persian)
bap/bapa father
battho sit
begum madam
beta son
beti daughter
bey ya no (Burushaski)
Burushaski language of the Kingdom of Hahayul
caravanserai roadside inn for travellers and their animals
chai tea
chand moon
chapatti flatbread
charpai lightweight wooden bed woven with hemp rope
chita leopard
chup quiet
darzi tailor
dekho look
dupatta scarf
Eid religious festival
emir king (Persian)
Emperor Aurangzeb the sixth emperor of the Mughal Empire who reigned from 1658–1707
Empress Mehrunnissa also called ‘Nur Jahan’; the twentieth and most-loved wife of Emperor Jahangir, fourth emperor of the Mughal Empire
gali narrow laneway
Gordafarid daughter of a Persian hero
hakim healer
halva a milky sweet
hazoor title of respect to a man of high station
Jahanara princess and sister to Emperor Aurangzeb
jaldi quickly
jan life, also used after a name as an endearment
jao go
ji yes, also used after a name as a term of respect
jinn a spirit which can be good or evil and take human or animal form
ju na thank you (Burushaski)
kaka older sister (Burushaski)
kamarband waistband
khush amdeed welcome
makhfi hidden
mamnoon thank you (Persian)
mehndi henna
mir king
missahiba miss, title of respect
mohur gold coin
nah kheir no (Persian)
nali open drain
neechay under, below, down
ooper up
panir cheese, like ricotta
pari fairy
pedar father (Persian)
pesar son (Persian)
piazay onion
pir seer
pyari dearest
qameez long top/shirt
Qhuda God
Rostam Persian hero
roti bread
salar commander
samovar copper ‘kettle’ with a tap and a central cylinder to house burning coals for heating water or chai
Sekandar Alexander
scimitar sword
shahbash well done, bravo
Shahnameh The Persian Book of Kings
shaitan the devil, sometimes called the Demon King
shalwar baggy trousers
shehzada prince
shehzadi princess
shukriya thank you
Simurgh a giant bird in Persian mythology
Sitarah star
Sohrab Persian hero
subz chai green tea
subzi vegetables
Tahmures the third king of Persia, the binder of demons
taveez amulet, often containing words from the Qur’an
tham king (Burushaski)
tonga horse-drawn carriage with a canvas roof
tonga walla one who drives a tonga
Wa Alaikum Assalam and peace be upon you (Arabic)
wah wow, wonderful
wazir minister of state
Zahhak an evil king in Persian mythology
zarur certainly
Acknowledgements
Daughter of Nomads grew from stories I told my children when we lived near the Pakistani Karakoram Mountains, that we loved very much. It was also the original project that won me the Asialink Fellowship to Pakistan in 2006, and so I wish to thank Asialink and also Arts SA who helped finance that wonderful time of research and collecting of ideas which grew into many books.
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