SHERE ALI'S BOOTS

Dominion, Volume 10, Issue 3035, 23 March 1917, Page 6

SHERE ALI'S BOOTS

THE STORY OF A LAMED INDIAN

(From Edmund Candler.) Mesopotamia. The Khattaks kept their spirits up all through tho hot weather. They were too lively sometimes. There was one m?n who imitated a three-stringed guitar a few yards from my tent as an accompaniment to his friend's high trebles. One night after a. good feed, when the Shamal began blowing, they broke out into one of their wild dances after the Dervish fashion, swinging swords and leaping I'ound tho bonfire. The Khattak is impulsive, mercurial, easily excited, seldom dispirited, and, if so, only for a short time. His elan is sometimes a positive danger during an attack. Shere Ali was among these. Instead of enlarging upon tho Khattaks in general, it will be better, perhaps, if I tell what I know of this boy and of his father, Shahbaz Khan. From these two one may gather a fair estimate of the breed. Shere Ali I saw wounded in a barge at Sheikh Saad. He was introduced to mo by liis machine-gun officer, who was wounded at the same time. Father and son both served- in the Kha-tTak double company of tlie tli Rifles. Shahbaz Elan, retired subadar, died after eighteen months of the great" war without hearing a shot tired. It was very galling to the old man to be out of it, for his idea of bliss was a fcind of glorified Armageddon. "Sahib," he said, "I should' like to be u pto my knees in gore with thousands of dead all round me." But the old man was born fifteen years too early. Father and son were faithful to type. The Khattak "is the Celt of the Indian Army, reckless, generous, improvident, mercurial, altogether a friendly and responsive person, but with the queer kink in ln'm you get in all Patlians, that primitive sensitive point of honour or shame whioli puzzles the, psychologist. : Dressed to Kill. Of such stock was Shere Ali. He was hit in tlie foot aud lamed the moment he left the trenches. This meant, a two-inch shortage, and, as he believed, permanent crutches. Slier© Ali was dispirited. The Khattak thinks no end of his personal appearance. He dresses to kill, and loves to' go'and swank in the bazaar in Mb gala. kit. He will spend hours over his toilet, peering at himself in the glass all fno while without a traco of self-consciousness, though his neighbours may be almost as interested in the performance as he. Then, when 'his hair is neatly oiled, and trim to the level of the lobe of his ear, he will'stride forth in his flowery waistcoat of plum colour or maroon velvet with golden braid, spotless white baggy ■ trousers, a flower behind his ear, a red handkerchief in his pocket, a cane in his hand, and for headgear a high Koliat lungi—black with yellow and l crimson ends—and a lcula covered with gold. I heard more of Sheer Ali when ho roturned fit tliree months afterwards. In the depot the lad's depression seemed permanent. He was very anxious to get back to his village, and kept on asking when he might go. But lie was told that ho must wait ftfr 1 ft"Spccial pair of boots. He was .sent to Lahore to be '.fitted. At last, they came. Ho ■untied the box with 'melancholy"" indifference, threw the tissue paper and cardboard on 'the floor, and examined them resignedly. ' "Sahib," he said, "there is soma mistake. They are not a pair-." He was persuaded to put them on. "Now walk," the adjutant said. Shore Ali rose with an effort, and was leaning forward to pick up his crutolies when he noticed! that his lamo foot touched tlie ground. He advanced gingerly, stamped with it once or twice "in a puzzled way, and then began doubling round the orderly room. The adjutant said that his. chest visibly filled out, and the light came Back to liis eyes. He took a step forward and saluted. "When is the next parade, sahib?" he asked. _ "Never mind about parades,"' the adjutant told him. "Go back to your village and bring us some more jewans (young men) like yourself; as many as you like, and keep on bringing them."