The king once got a poisonous
boil. The court physicians tried their skill but failed. The servants of the
king at last found out that one Pandit Shrí Bhatta knew the antidotes of
poisons and was well versed in the art of healing.
Pandit
Shrí Bhatt, a local Vaid (physician) sitting in the ground floor room of his
house which served as his clinic, was pulling hard at his Hookah
(Hubble-bubble) while feeling the pulse of one of his patients. The charcoals
in the Chillum (the small earthen pot atop the Hookah) refused to ignite. In
disgust he threw down the long wooden pipe and hurriedly scribbled a
prescription for the patient. His face was anxious and worried. Apparently he
had something on his mind. He had received the other day, through one of his
Muslim friends, a courtier, and a detailed report about King Zain-ul-Abidin's
illness and also the inability of all the royal physicians to cure him. He was
anxious to prove his worth as a physician and his friend had already
recommended his name to the king. He was asked to reach the palace at noon that
day and now that he had finished with his patients, he took his medicine box
with him and left for the palace. The guard at the palace gate escorted Shrí
Bhatt to the main building.
Here
in the king’s room, silence prevailed everywhere and men and soldiers talked in
hushed tones. The king's illness had engulfed everyone with deep anxiety. Everything
looked dark and gloomy. Everything looked dim and dull.
Straightening
the loose folds of his gown he walked with a light foot trying to avoid the
sound of his footfalls. Presently he found himself at the doorstep of the
king's bedroom. Shrí Bhatt, head bent, approached the vast bedstead upon which
the king was reclining. Two royal physicians were changing the bandage of his
infected wound, which a sinister looking boil at his back had turned into.
Saluting the Sultan, he stood at a respectful distance. The royal physician
addressed the king," Your Majesty, Shrí Bhatt is here. May we give him a
try?" The Sultan made a noise of disgust. "Do what you think best,
Shrí Bhatt. We are in great pain," he said, throwing the back of his hand
to him. A chill caution of a trained physician entered Shrí Bhatt's mind. He
unbandaged the wound and touched lightly the skin round it, which looked red
and tender. He applied some medicine on it covering it with a bit of cotton
wool and then bandaged it securely. "Tonight Your Majesty will enjoy sound
sleep and within three days, God willing, sit up completely cured", he
addressed his king. The king's thin and sunken face gave back a frank and weak smile
in reply. That night the king felt relieved of much of the pain. It was late in
the morning when he opened his eyes feeling refreshed after peaceful sleep.
Whether it was the efficacy of Shrí Bhatt's medicine or his good fortune that
did the trick none can tell. But after a few days the king was completely cured.
He did attend the court as predicted by Shrí Bhatt. Sitting on his throne, he
looked around for his patron and spotted him standing in a corner. He motioned
him to his presence. Words came to him slowly as if he had to choose from a
difficult dialect long forgotten. Short pauses in between expressed his
gratefulness more eloquently than the words he spoke. The king asked Shrí Bhatt
to name anything in the world and that would be granted to him. Shrí Bhatt
expressed his gratitude for the magnanimous offer and said that His Majesty's
recovery was all that he desired. Prompted by the king to speak out his mind as
he was keen to do something for him, Shrí Bhatt kept silent. He felt like a
prize winner who does not know how to carry his unwieldy trophy home. The
king's eyes bored into his face as if trying to find a path leading to his
mind. This time Shrí Bhatt looked straight into his eyes and saw in them a deep
sea of generosity. Encouraged by the stately inclination of his head and the generous
smile playing on his lips, he prayed that his Hindu subjects be let off the
hook of tyranny and religious persecution so that their honor and religious
freedom could be restored.
Pleased with the reply, the king granted him
his wish with a nod. That day after the Durbar was over; Shrí Bhatt walking
along the narrow paths leading to his home felt strange insidious warmth
engulfing his being after a long, long time. Tears of relief welled up in his
heart and dribbled down his beard.
The king wanted to make gifts to
Shrí Bhatta. But Shrí Bhatta refused to accept any. But when pressed hard, he
made a request that the Tax on the Kashmir Brahmans was remitted. The
selflessness shown by the physician Shrí Bhatta had its effect upon the mind of
the king was great. The request was accepted and tax was remitted. The Brahmans
were freed from the position of inferiority to which he was demoted by the
previous kings.
Having cured the
king and refused to accept a reward, Shrí Bhatta rose very high in the official
favor. He was made the court physician. His influence both with the king and
his own people was very great. This influence he utilized in the rehabilitation
of his people. The king was all prepared for this. He wanted peace and
prosperity. The king bestowed his favors on men of merit (Brahmans) whose very
existence had been endangered previously.”
The result was
that many Brahmans who were forcibly converted during previous times were
reconverted. Those who had fled away came back in large numbers. The king gave
them rent-free lands. The Brahmans were free to practice their religion and
some temples that were damaged during the previous rule were repaired. Many
Sanskrit books were translated into Persian and similarly Persian books into
Sanskrit. A free kitchen was established for saints and other Brahmins. Schools
were established for the propagation of Sanskrit learning. In his time full
relief was given to the Brahmans. No wonder that the king came to be known as Bhatta Shah i. e., the king of
Bhattas. Free lands were given to them.
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