Hindustan is a country which has few pleasures to recommend it.... Indians have no idea of the charms of friendly society, of frankly mixing together… - Babur

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Hindustan is a country which has few pleasures to recommend it.... Indians have no idea of the charms of friendly society, of frankly mixing together, or of familiar intercourse.... They have no horses, no good grapes, or musk melons, no good fruits, no ice or cold water, no good food or bread in their bazaars, no bath or colleges, no candles, no torches, not a candle stick

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About Babur

Zahir-ud-Din Muhammad Babur or Babur (February 14, 1483 – December 26, 1530) was a descendant of Genghis Khan and Timur; Babur was a military adventurer, a soldier of distinction, a poet, diarist and statesman. Babur was the first Mughal Emperor and founder of the Mughal Empire.

Also Known As

Native Name: ظهیرالدین مُحمَّد بابُر
Alternative Names: Zahīr ud-Dīn Muhammad Bābur Zahir-ud-din Muhammad Baber Ẓahīr al-Dīn, Emperor of Hindustan Muḥammad Bābar Zahir al-Din Muhammad Babar Firdaws Makani

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I made public the resolution to abstain from wine, which had been hidden in the treasury of my breast The victorious servants, in accordance with the illustrious order, dashed upon the earth of contempt and destruction the flagons and the cups, and the other utensils in gold and silver, which in their number and their brilliance were like the stars of the firmament They dashed them in pieces, as, God willing! soon will be dashed the gods of the idolaters, - and they distributed the fragments among the poor and needy.

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All these trod the road to Hell, removing from this house of clay to the pit of perdition. The enemy's country was full, as Hell is full, of wounded who had died on the road. The lowest pit was gorged with miscreants who had surrendered their souls to the lord of Hell. In whatever direction one from the army of Islam hastened, he found everywhere a self-willed one dead; whatever march the illustrious camp made in the wake of the fugitives, it found no foot-space without its prostrate foe. All the Hindus slain, abject and mean, By matchlock-stones, like the Elephants' lords, Many hills of their bodies were seen, And from each hill a fount of running blood.

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