"A reward of two thousand pounds is offered for the capture of one of the former leaders of the Indian rebellion. He will be the head of Du Ponte, life or death. We have learned that he is currently in the Bombay area. He is better known as . . . " Such was the notice which could be seen by the inhabitants of Aurangabad on the night of March 6, 1867. The last name had disappeared from a freshly posted notice on the wall of the dilapidated bungalow by the Dudma River—a name forever hated and quietly admired.The reason is that a monk and beggar tore up the capitalized name printed on the corner of the notice, and no one noticed it on this lonely river bank.The name of the Governor of Mumbai, which was signed with the name of the Governor of India, was also torn off.

What is the motive of this beggar monk?Did he think that tearing up the notice would save the riots of 1857 from prosecution, and that he himself would not be arrested?Had he actually believed that a dreadful personage of such illustrious reputation could be wiped out by this torn piece of paper? He's just crazy. In fact, all the houses, palaces, mosques and hotels in the city of Aurangabad have that notice on their walls.Not to mention, an officer who read out the notice shouted the governor's arrest warrant and ran around in the streets and alleys.Even the inhabitants of the smallest town in the province had learned that there would be a bounty for handing over Don du Pont's head.The torn name would still be heard throughout the district by twelve o'clock.If the news is true and the big boss is indeed hiding in this area of ​​the Indian peninsula, there is no doubt that he will soon be handed over to the Governor's Palace by those who are greedy for rewards.

And what reason did the monk and beggar want to tear up a notice that had been issued and printed several times? Probably out of a kind of anger—or maybe out of some kind of contempt.In any case, he shrugged and disappeared into one of the most densely populated and worst-lived neighborhoods. On the Indian peninsula, the wide part sandwiched between Sigat and the Gath of the Bay of Bengal is the Dekkan.Generally it refers to the southern part of India bounded by the Ganges River.Dekkan means south in Sanskrit and it includes some provinces in the two regions of Mumbai and Madeira.Aurangabad is the main one, it is in the same city as the capital of Dekkan.

In the sixteenth century, the eminent Mongol Emperor Aurang Zebu moved his court to this city, known as Kirky in the early history of the Indian peninsula.At that time it had a hundred thousand inhabitants, now only fifty thousand remain, and they are subject to the British in the service of Nizam de Edrabad.However, it is one of the safest cities on the peninsula.There has never been a terrible case of cholera, and even the epidemic fever, which is so rampant in India, has never visited the city. In Aurangabad, some remnants of its former glory can still be seen.The Great Mongolian Palace stands on the right bank of the Dudma River, the mausoleum of the favorite concubine Sha Zahan, the father of Aurang Zeb. It is a mosque built in imitation of the Taj Mahal. The four minarets and other magnificent buildings, the artistic conception and gorgeous decoration all show the world-famous might and strength of the conquerors of the Indian Peninsula.In the Indian peninsula, Kabul and Asam once pushed the kingdom to extreme prosperity.

Although the population of Aurangabad has declined considerably since this period, it is said that anonymity is still easy in a place with an extremely diverse population.That monk or beggar, whether real or not, once mixed into the crowd, he would not be able to be identified no matter what.There are countless people like him in India.These people set up a beggars' guild with the monks of the lower ranks, begging on foot or on horseback, and if they think that there is not enough alms, they will have the cheek to let others ask for more, but they don't look down on those monks who stay in the temple well.Deeply trusted among lower class Indians.

The monk and beggar in the text is over five feet nine inches tall.For example, his age is not only forty, but at most forty-one.His face, and especially the gleam in his watchful black eyes, made him look like a handsome Indian prince.Unfortunately, the delicate contours of the face were concealed by the potholes left by the smallpox.This grown man is physically flexible and strong.What makes him special is that he is missing a finger on his left hand.His hair was dyed red, his clothes were scanty, his feet were bare, his turban was wrapped around his body, and he was barely wrapped in a ragged woolen striped shirt, which was tied in a belt.On the chest is a colorful mark, which is the symbol of the old-fashioned and rebels in Indian mythology, the fourth symbol of Vishnu, a lion head and three eyes and three teeth representing the evil god Siva cross.

There is a real but justifiable unease in the streets and alleys of Aurangabad, especially in the lower neighbourhoods, where people from all over the world mix.In those places, people came out of the dilapidated houses where they lived and crowded the streets and alleys.No matter men, women, old or young, Europeans or natives, soldiers of national or local armies, beggars of all kinds, or peasants in the suburbs, they are all chatting, discussing, gesticulating and commenting on the notice, calculating how much money they can get from the government. bounty hope.Even if they were standing in front of the game wheel with the same jackpot of 2,000 pounds, they would not be so excited.But it's not easy to get this bounty: it's Du Pont's head!To be sure, not only luck is required to meet this big man, but also brave enough to catch him.

The beggar—apparently the only one of them all who could keep calm in the face of the temptation of a bounty—went through the crowd, stopping every now and then to listen to what others were saying, like a man who wanted to profit from it .Although he never intervened in anyone's conversation and remained silent, he watched and listened carefully. "Two thousand pounds if you find the big man!" cried one, raising a greedy hand. "It's not the same thing to find him, but to catch him!" said another. "Originally, he is not a person who can be caught without a fight."

"But didn't you hear that he died of a fever in the jungle of Nepal recently?" "Pure nonsense! Scheming Don Du Pont wants to play dead to escape!" "There are even claims that he has been buried in a camp on the Nepalese border." "The funeral is fake and used to deceive people!" After hearing the last sentence, the monk and beggar didn't even frown, his expression was still calm.But he couldn't help frowning when he heard the following details from an Indian - apparently the most excited of the group.Such exhaustive details cannot be faked:

"The real situation is that in 1859, the big headman fled to a camp under a mountain in Nepal together with his brother Balao Luo and the former maharaja of Gonda, Debi Buks Singh. The three were arrested. The British army was cornered and decided to cross the border between India and China. Before that, Datouren and his two accomplices arranged a funeral for themselves, so that everyone thought they were dead, but they were really buried in the A left finger that I cut off myself at the funeral." "Where did you know that?" a listener asked the rather confident Indian.

"I was at the funeral. Dang Du's soldiers put me in jail and I escaped six months later." When the Indian talked eloquently, the monk and beggar kept staring at him, his eyes shining.The hand with the missing finger was carefully hidden in the rags on the chest.He listened in silence, sharp teeth showing from trembling lips. "So, do you know the big head?" Someone asked the former prisoner of Dangdu. "Of course." The Indian replied. "If you met him face to face, would you recognize him immediately?" "That would be as easy as recognizing myself." "In this case, you may have the hope of getting the reward of two thousand pounds!" a person said, with an undisguised envy on his face. "Perhaps . . . ," replied the Indian, "but has the big man really come to Bombay to play with his life? That seems unlikely to me." "What is he doing here?" "Probably another riot." If the speaker was not an Indian soldier serving in the British army, at least he was someone who had experienced the battlefield. "Since the government has disclosed the whereabouts of the big boss to the public, it is conceivable that the government is well-informed in this regard!" The interlocutor belongs to the kind of person who absolutely believes in the government's ability to handle affairs. "Okay!" said the Indian again, "May God help me to meet Don Du Ponte, and I'll be rich!" The beggar monk took a few steps back, but his gaze kept on the prisoner before the big head man. It was getting dark, but the excitement in the streets and alleys of Aurangabad continued unabated.There are more and more rumors about Datouren.Some said that he had been present in the city;At nine o'clock in the evening, the most well-informed people threatened that the big man had been taken into the city's prison and locked up with several Sag people who had spent more than 30 years behind bars there. If any formalities were followed, he would be hanged immediately.That was how the famous Tontia Topi, who had been one of his rioters, died in Shipley Square, but at ten o'clock the account was all different.Everyone agreed that the imprisoned Datou escaped from prison soon, and this news undoubtedly brought a glimmer of hope to those who were thinking of a reward of two thousand pounds. In fact, the above-mentioned are all hearsay, fabricated out of thin air.The most well-informed know no more than those who are less well-informed or know nothing at all.Big heads are always the stuff of money. It's just that the Indian who knows Dangdu is more likely to get the bounty.It is rare, especially in the Mumbai area, to have the opportunity to meet this murderous leader of the Great Rebellion.Further north, in some districts nearer to the center of the peninsula, in the vicinity of Sinthia, Buderd, and Ud, and in the cities of Agra, Delhi, Kanpur, and Lucknow, this bloody order was committed by the The big boss who has committed many crimes has already aroused public anger.Once the people there caught him, they would definitely hand him over to the British.Relatives, husbands, wives, brothers and children of the deceased still mourn their loved ones killed by the hundreds to this day.Ten years have not been able to erase the deep-rooted hatred they buried deep in their hearts.So when Du Pont will never run carelessly to these places that have already made him notorious.If, as the rumors say, he has crossed the India-China border, or for some reason, such as launching an uprising, he has left the camp in the mountains. Although it is an extremely hidden place, the British and Indian police have still discovered it. It, then, was only possible that he had come to Dekkan, the only place where he could rest. Moreover, the governor had already heard the wind that the big head had appeared in Aurangabad, so he offered a reward for his arrest. At any rate, it should be noted that in Aurangabad, high society judges, magistrates, and government clerks were quite skeptical about the news that the Governor was in possession of.How many times have du Pont been found or even caught when rumors never caught on?And how many gossip and gossip made this big man become a legendary figure.He knows the art of double body, which can make the most savvy detectives helpless, but the common people are convinced. Among those who believed most firmly was, of course, the Indian prisoner who had been held by the Big Head.This poor man, who was dreaming about the bounty and wanted to take the opportunity to vent his personal anger, only wanted to act quickly.The look of a winning ticket.His plan was simple: to volunteer for the governor's service the next day; after he had figured out what happened to Don du Pont, that is, the details behind the notice, he went alone to try his luck at the place where he was found. Near ten o'clock in the evening, after hearing so many contradictory rumors, the Indian felt confused in his head, but at the same time became more convinced of his intentions.Finally, he decided to go home and sleep for a while.His only place of residence was a small boat moored on the banks of the Dudma River, so he squinted his eyes and walked in the direction of the boat in a trance. He didn't expect that the monk and beggar had been following him all the time. In order not to attract attention, the beggar monk always walked in the shadows. On the edge of this densely populated neighborhood in Aurangabad, the streets are much quieter at the moment.The main road here leads to a clearing, and beyond the clearing is the Dudma River, a desolate scene.Only those in a hurry will rush past here to the lively neighborhood.The Indian finally heard footsteps, but he did not realize that he was alone by the river. The monks and beggars have been following closely behind, and they have always hidden themselves in dark places, either hiding in the shade of trees or walking close to the ruined walls. But this caution is not superfluous.At this time, a round of the moon that had just risen was quietly emitting an indifferent light.The Indian should have realized that he was being followed closely.As for hearing the footsteps of monks and beggars, that was impossible.With his bare feet, he was skating rather than walking, and in this way he came to the banks of the Dudma River without anyone noticing. Five minutes passed quietly, and the Indian walked—almost mechanically—step by step toward the wretched boat where he was accustomed to spend the night.There can be no second explanation for his whereabouts.He is like a man who must pass through this wasteland every night, completely immersed in the grand blueprint to be realized the next day.The vengeance of the Big Head,--who made him cruel to the prisoner,--and the lust for the bounty made him deaf and blind. He was unaware of the catastrophe that his rash words had caused. He didn't notice the monk and beggar slowly getting closer and closer to him. Suddenly, the monk and beggar jumped up and rushed towards him like a tiger, with a flash of light in his hand.It was moonlight reflecting off the blade of a Malayan dagger. The Indian was stabbed in the chest and fell heavily to the ground. But although the stab was accurate and steady, the poor Indian did not die immediately, mumbled something, and spat out blood. The murderer leaned over and grabbed the slain man, turned his face to the moonlight and said: "Do you recognize me?" "It's him!" the Indian choked with difficulty. Before he had time to say the frightening name of the monk and beggar, he was cut off. In a short while, the dead bodies of the Indians disappeared without a trace in the Dudma River. The monk and beggar waited for the sound of splashing water to calm down before turning around and leaving.He retraced his way through wasteland and deserted neighborhoods, then walked briskly toward a city gate. But when he got there, the city gate had just closed.A few soldiers of the Royal Army stood guard by the gate.As he expected, monks and beggars could not escape Aurangabad. "I must get out of the city gate, and tonight...or I will never get out again!" he said to himself. He turned back the same way, walked more than 200 steps along the circular patrol road inside the wall, climbed up the slope next to the wall, and climbed to the highest point.The top of the city wall is more than fifty feet high from the moat dug between the inner and outer walls.And there is no uneven place on the straight wall for support.It seems that it is completely impossible for a person to crawl on it.Holding on to a rope, he can probably fall from the top, but the monk's belt, which is only a few feet long, can only help him slide from the slope against the wall to the ground. The monk and beggar stopped, looked around, and thought of a way out of the city. The verdant canopy of the big trees around Aurangabad City is like a dome covering the city wall, and the hanging branches are long, flexible and strong, and you may be able to fall steadily into the moat if you hold it. Thinking of this, the monk and beggar no longer hesitated.He burrowed into a canopy, and soon scrambled over the wall, entangled himself in a long branch that bent slowly downward under the weight. When the curved branch touched the hem of the wall, the beggar slowed down as if he were holding a knotted rope instead of a branch.Just like that, he fell to half the height of the city wall, still more than thirty feet above the ground, and how to escape was still a problem. The monk and beggar hanging in mid-air, swaying back and forth, kept looking for a notch for his feet on the wall, he was exhausted. Suddenly, several strong lights pierced the darkness.Then heard several loud bangs.It turned out that the beggar monk was discovered by the soldiers guarding the city.They fired at him, and though he missed, one bullet caught the branch within two inches of his head. Soon, the branch snapped off, and the monk and beggar naturally fell into the moat...Anyone else would definitely die here, but he was safe and sound. Braving another hail of bullets, he climbed out of the moat, climbed up the slope of the outer wall, and quickly disappeared into the night. For monks and beggars, it is as simple as a game. After escaping a long distance, he walked for a while along the British garrison outside Aurangabad. After escaping for more than two hundred steps, he stopped, turned his head, pointed at the city with his crippled finger, and said fiercely: "Luck to Du Pont's lackeys! British, The blood feud between Nana Saib and you will never end here!" The riots of 1857 had stained some names with blood, and Nana Saib was the most terrible of them all.The Viceroy saw him as the supreme challenge to the conquerors of India, and ten years later, his name was once again made public.