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It was what men call a Mahratta Laonee, and it said: Their warrior forces Chimnajee Before the Peishwa led, The Children of the Sun and Fire Behind him turned and fled. And the chorus said: With them there fought who rides so free With sword and turban red, The warrior-youth who earns his fee At peril of his head,
'Who is it? 'A consistent man, said Wali Dad. 'He fought you in '46, when he was a warrior-youth; refought you in '57, and he tried to fight you in '71, but you had learned the trick of blowing men from guns too well. Now he is old; but he would still fight if he could. 'Is he a Wahabi, then? Why should he answer to a Mahratta laonee if he be Wahabi or Sikh? said I.
"Who is it?" "A consistent man," said Wali Dad. "He fought you in '46, when he was a warrior-youth; refought you in '57, and he tried to fight you in '71, but you had learned the trick of blowing men from guns too well. Now he is old; but he would still fight if he could." "Is he a Wahabi, then? Why should he answer to a Mahratta laonee if he be Wahabi or Sikh?" said I.
So she took her sitar and sat in the window-seat and sang a song of old days that had been sung by a girl of her profession in an armed camp on the eve of a great battle the day before the Fords of the Jumna ran red and Sivaji fled fifty miles to Delhi with a Toorkh stallion at his horse's tail and another Lalun on his saddle-bow. It was what men call a Mahratta laonee, and it said:
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