PARISNĀTH.
12th.—The passage off Mhow was difficult,—rocks and sands. We were on a sandbank several times. The temple of Parisnāth at Pabosa was to me a very interesting object. At Allahabad I procured a small white marble image of this god, and while considering whom it might represent, the moonshee came into the room. The man is a high-church Hindoo: on seeing the image, he instantly covered his eyes and turned away, expressing his disapprobation. “That is the idol Parisnāth,” said he, “a man of the pure faith may not look upon it, and will not worship in a temple desecrated by its presence.” There are about four hundred heretical Hindoos at Prāg. The image is represented in a sitting posture, not unlike the attitude of the Budha idol of Ava, but from which it differs in the position of the right hand.
Colonel Tod says, “The 23rd of the Jain Apostles was Parswanáth—Parswa the god. There is a column in Cheetore dedicated to Parswanáth, Budhist, or Jain.”
I imagine the white marble images in my possession are the same as those mentioned in the “Annals and Antiquities of Rajah’stan.” I have before given, in [p. 214], an account of the disturbance occasioned at Allahabad from an attempt made by a man to place an image of Parisnāth in the Achibut chamber. Moored the pinnace off Surawal.
13th.—Aground off Kuttree, again off Shahpoor, and, for the third time, off Jumnapoor: lugāoed off Mowhie.
13th.—Aground on a sunken rock off Toolseepoor, again off Dampour. During the rains the river is deep; but at this time of the year it is late to undertake a voyage to Agra, and I think it not impossible it may be impracticable to take the pinnace so far up the river. Nevertheless, we have come on very well, with occasional difficulties, such as going over sunken rocks at times, bump, bump, under the vessel. I have felt half afraid of seeing their black heads through the floor of the cabin. We have grounded on sandbanks four and five times a day in avoiding the rocks. The Jumna is full of them, and the navigation dangerous on that account. The contrary wind has generally obliged us to track, as our course lies right in the teeth of the west wind, which is strong, and generally blows pretty steadily at this time of the year. There is one consolation, the river winds and twists so much, the wind must be fair somewhere or other.
Every twelve miles a dārogha comes on board to make salām to the mem sāhiba, and to ask her orders. I send letters to Prāg by this means; the dārogha gives them to our own chaprāsīs, who run with them from station to station. There is no dāk (post) in these parts. The dāroghas bring fish, eggs, kids, any thing of which I am in need; and I pay for them, although they are brought as presents, it being against the orders of Government to receive the gift even of a cabbage or beet-root from a native. The tracking ground was fine; moored off Bhowna.
15th.—Strong west wind, very cold: the river broad and deep; the thermometer at 9 A.M. 60°. The darzee in the after-cabin is at work on a silk gown: the weather is just cold enough to render warm attire necessary. The other day I was on deck in a green velvet travelling cap, with an Indian shawl, put on after the fashion of the men, amusing myself with firing with a pellet-bow at some cotton boats en passant for tamāshā. Some natives came on board to make salām, and looked much surprised at seeing a ghulel (a pellet-bow) in feminine hands. The cotton boats would not get out of the way, therefore I pelted the manjhīs, (masters, or steersmen) of the vessels, to hasten the movements of the great unwieldy lubberly craft. Of whom can I talk but of myself in this my solitude on the Jumna-jee? Now for the telescope to look out for the picturesque.
17th.—Wind strong, cold, and westerly: the stream broad and deep, anchored off Jerowlee in a jungle: just the place for a sportsman. A quantity of underwood and small trees amongst the ravines and cliffs afford shelter for the game. Here you find nil-gā’ī, peacocks, partridge, and quail. Several peacocks were quietly feeding on the cliffs; others roosting on the trees. At this place they told me there is a bura kund, which is, I believe, a well, or spring, or basin of water, especially consecrated to some holy purpose or person; but I did not visit the spot.
20th.—Passed Chilla Tara Ghāt and the Cane River, in which agates, cornelians, calcedony, &c., are found. The day was pleasant, the water deep, but there being but little wind we were obliged to track. Moored off Arouwl, at which place the patelī got upon the rocks.
21st.—A strong east wind: we had a fine sail, but went aground off Bindour: moored at Serowlee.
22nd.—After a very pleasant day, and pretty good sailing, we lugāoed off Humeerpore: during the night we were kept on the qui vive by a very severe storm, accompanied by thunder, lightning, and very heavy rain.
23rd.—A wretched day; cold, damp, and miserable, a most powerful wind directly against us. To add to the discomfort, we sprang a leak, which gave sixty buckets of water in twenty-four hours. The leak was found under the rudder. We had to take down a part of the aft-cabin, and to take up some boards before we could get at it: and when found, we had nothing on board fit to stop it. At last it was effectually stopped with towels, torn up and forced in tight, and stiff clay beaten down over that. I thought this might last until our arrival at Kalpee, where proper repairs might take place: moored off Bowlee.
25th.—Christmas Day was ushered in by rain and hail, the wind high and contrary. At noon the wind decreased, and we got on better, tracking along the banks, with fourteen men on the goon (track-rope). At seven in the evening, just as we had moored, a storm came on, accompanied with the most brilliant forked lightning; and the most violent wind, blowing a gale, united with the strong stream, bearing full down against us. It was really fearful. After a time the vivid and forked lightning became sheeted, and the rain fell, like a second deluge, in torrents. The peals of thunder shook the cabin windows, and all the panes of glass rattled. We had lugāoed off a dry nālā (the bed of a stream); the torrents of rain filled the nālā with water, which poured down against the side of the pinnace with great force and noise. Fearing we should be driven from our moorings by the force of the current, I ran on deck to see if the men were on the alert. It was quite dark: some were on shore taking up the lāwhāsees by which she was secured to the bank; the rest were on deck, trying with their long bamboos to shove her out of the power of the current from the nālā. Having succeeded in this, we were more comfortable. It was out of the question to take rest during such a storm, while there was a chance of being driven from our moorings; and being quite alone was also unpleasant. At length the gale abated, and I was glad to hear only the rain for the rest of the night. Daylight closed my weary eyes: on awaking refreshed from a quiet slumber, I found the Seagull far from Ekouna, near which place we had passed so anxious a night.
26th.—Moored off Kalpee, famous for its crystalized sugar. Here a large budget of letters was brought to me. I remained the whole day at the station to procure provisions and answer the letters. Nor did I forget to purchase tools and every thing necessary for the repair of the leak in the vessel, although we forbore to remove the towels and clay, as she now only made half a bucket in twenty-four hours.
28th.—North-west wind very cold: the river most difficult to navigate in parts; rocky, sandy, shallow. Anchored off Palpoor; found a quantity of river shells; they are not very pretty, but some are curious.
29th.—We were in the midst of great sandbanks, in a complete wilderness; the stream was strong and deep, the tracking-ground good; here and there the rocks appeared above water under the high cliffs. Off Belaspoor, on one sandbank, I saw ten crocodiles basking in the sun, all close together; some turtle and great white birds were on a rock near them; on the river’s edge were three enormous alligators, large savage monsters, lying with their enormous mouths wide open, eyeing the boats. The men on board shouted with all their might; the alligators took no notice of the shout; the crocodiles, more timid than the former, ran into the water, and disappeared immediately. These are the first alligators I have seen in their own domains; they are very savage, and will attack men; the crocodiles will not, if it be possible to avoid them. I would willingly have taken the voyage for this one sight of alligators and crocodiles in their native wildernesses; the scene was so unusual, so wild, so savage. At sunset, anchored off Gheetamow, and found some shells during my evening ramble.
At the sale of the effects of the late Col. Gough, in Calcutta, was the head of a magar (alligator) of incredible size, caught in the Megna; which, though deficient in not having an under-jaw, was a good weight for a man to carry, stooping to it with both hands. The creeks of a bend of the Sunderbunds, not far below Calcutta, are the places frequented, I hear, by the patriarchs of their race.
The next day we entered a most difficult part of the river; it was impossible to tell in which direction to steer the vessel; rocks on every side; the river full of them; a most powerful stream rushing between the rocks; to add to the danger, we had a strong westerly wind directly in our teeth, which, united to the force of the stream, made us fear the goon might break; in which case we should have been forced most violently against the rocks. We accomplished only one mile in four hours and a half! I desired the sarang to anchor the vessel, and let the men have some rest; they had been fagging, up to their waists in water, all the time, and I wished the wind to abate ere we attempted to proceed further. After the dāndees had dined, we pushed off again. At Kurunka a pilot came on board, which pleased me very much, as it was impossible to tell on which side of the rocks the passage might be: the pilot took us up with great difficulty through the rocks to the land-mark off the bungalow at Badoura; there he requested leave to anchor until the wind might abate; he was afraid to try the stream, it being still stronger higher up. Of course I consented; after which, accompanied by the pilot, I walked some three miles to collect fossil bones; these bones were discovered by the sappers and miners on the river-side, at the little village of Badoura; the bones are petrified, but to what animal they belonged is unknown; some cart-loads of them have been taken to Allahabad, to be shown to the scientific; I brought back five or six of the bones we found at the place. A short time ago this part of the river was impassable; the Company sent sappers and miners, who, having surrounded each rock with a fence that kept out the water, blew them up, and made a passage down the centre of the river; of course this was a work of time; the fences were then removed, and the stream flowed unconfined. Large boats can now go up and down in safety, if they know the passage. The next morning the pilot accompanied us as far as Merapoor, when he made his salām, and returned to the sappers’ and miners’ bungalow. The river now became good and clear; we encountered no more difficulties, and moored quietly off Seholee at six in the evening.
1835, Jan. 1st.—New Year’s Day was as disagreeable as Christmas Day; cold, frosty; a wind in our teeth; rocks and crocodiles. My pet terrier was taken ill; with difficulty she was brought through the attack; poor little Poppus,—she has a dozen names, all of endearment. Passed Juggermunpoor, where the fair for horses is held.
2nd.—A fair wind brought us to the Chumbal river. The fort and Hindoo temple of Bhurrage are very picturesque objects. This is one of the most difficult passes on the river, on account of the sand banks, and the power of the stream from the junction of the Jumna and Chumbal. I am directed not to stop a moment for any thing but letters on my way to Agra; on my return I shall go on shore (D.V.), and visit all the picturesque places I now behold merely en passant. The Chumbal is a beautiful river; never was a stream more brilliant or more clear; the water, where it unites with the Jumna, is of a bright pellucid green.
From the force of the united streams we had great difficulty in passing the junction; the wind dropped, and we could not move the pinnace on the towing-rope; we sent a hawser in the dinghee to the opposite shore, and then, with the united force of the crews of both vessels, hauled the pinnace across the junction into the quiet waters of the Jumna; it was 6 P.M. ere this was effected. Whilst the people anchored, and got the cook-boat over, I walked to a beautiful Hindoo temple, close to the river’s edge. The fort beyond put me in mind of Conway Castle; the towers are somewhat similar: on my return I must stop and sketch it. A wealthy native has sent to petition an audience; he is anxious to make salām to the mem sāhiba. I have declined seeing him, as we must start at daybreak; but have told him on my return I shall stay a day or two at this picturesque place, and shall then be happy to receive his visit.
Nothing is so shocking, so disgusting, as the practice of burning bodies; generally only half-burning them, and throwing them into the river. What a horrible sight I saw to-day! crowds of vultures, storks, crows, and pariah dogs from the village glutting over a dreadful meal; they fiercely stripped the flesh from the swollen body of the half-burned dead, which the stream had thrown on a sand bank; and howled and shrieked as they fought over and for their fearful meal!
How little the natives think of death! This morning, when I was on deck, the body of a woman floated by the pinnace, within the reach of a bamboo; she was apparently dead, her long black hair spread on the stream; by the style of the red dress, she was a Hindoo; she must have fallen, or have been thrown into the river. I desired the men to pull the body to the vessel’s side, and see if she might not be saved. They refused to touch it even with a bamboo; nobody seemed to think any thing about it, further than to prevent the body touching the vessel, should the stream bring it close to the side. One man coolly said, “I suppose she fell into the river when getting up water in her gharā” (earthen vessel)!
How easily a murdered man might be disposed of! On account of the expense of fuel, the poorer Hindoos only slightly burn the bodies of the dead, and then cast them into the river; by attiring the corpse after the fashion of a body to be burned, and throwing it into the stream, it would never attract attention; any native would say, “Do not touch it, do not touch it; it is merely a burnt body.”
This life on the river, however solitary, is to me very agreeable; and I would proceed beyond Agra to Delhi, but that I should think there cannot be water enough for the pinnace; with a fair wind there is much to enjoy in the changing scene, but tracking against a contrary one is tiresome work.
3rd.—A most unpleasant day; we were aground many times, contending against the stream and a powerful wind. The new goon broke, and we were at last fixed most firmly and unpleasantly on a bank of sand; in that position, finding it impossible to extricate the pinnace, we remained all night.
4th.—We were obliged to cut our way through the sandbank to the opposite shore, a distance of about a quarter of a mile; this took twelve hours to accomplish; the anchor was carried to a distance with a chain cable, and there dropped; and the pinnace was pulled by main force through the sand, where there was not water enough to float her. When out of it, we came upon a stream that ran like a torrent, aided by a most powerful and contrary wind. To remain where we were was dangerous; the men carried a thick cable in the dinghee to the shore, made it fast, and were pulling the vessel across; when half-way, just as we thought ourselves in safety, the cable broke, the pinnace whirled round and round like a bubble on the waters, and was carried with fearful velocity down the stream. The sarang lost all power over the vessel, but, at last, her progress was stopped by being brought up fast on a sandbank. By dint of hard work we once more got the cable fastened to the opposite shore, and carried her safely to the other side; where, to my great delight, we anchored, to await the decrease of the wind, that howled through the ropes as though it would tear them from the masts.
Thinking the vessel must have received a violent strain under all the force she had endured, we opened the hold, and found she had sprung a leak, that bubbled up at a frightful rate; the leak was under planks it was impossible to remove, unless by sawing off two feet from three large planks, if we could procure a saw; such a thing could not be found. I thought of a razor, the orthodox weapon wherewith to saw through six-inch boards, and get out of prison; no one would bring forward a razor. At length I remembered the very small fine saw I make use of for cutting the soap-stone, and, by very tender and gentle usage, we at length cut off the ends of the planks, and laid open the head of the leak, under the rudder, below water-mark. Here the rats and white ants had been very busy, and had worked away undisturbed at a principal beam, so that you could run your fingers some inches into it. With a very gentle hand the tow was stuffed in, but as we stopped the leak in one part, it sprang up in another; all day long we worked incessantly, and at night, in despair, filled it up with stiff clay. I went to rest, but my sleep was disturbed by dreams of water hissing in mine ears, and that we were going down stern foremost. During the night I called up the men three times to bale the vessel; she gave up quantities of water. We anchored off Mulgong.
5th.—Detained by the strong and contrary wind; the leak still gave up water, but in a less quantity; and it was agreed to leave it in its present condition until we could get to Etaweh. I was not quite comfortable, knowing the state of the rotten wood, and the holes the rats had made, through which the water had bubbled up so fast. The next day, not one drop of water came from the leak, and the vessel being quite right afterwards, I determined not to have her examined until our arrival at Agra, and could never understand why she did not leak.
9th.—Ever since the 4th we have had the most violent and contrary winds all day; obliged generally to anchor for two hours at noon, it being impossible to stem the stream, and struggle against the wind; most disagreeable work; I am quite tired and sick of it. Thus far I have borne all with the patience of a Hindoo, the wish to behold the Tāj carrying me on. It is so cold, my hand shakes, I can scarcely guide my pen; the thermometer 50° at 10 A.M., with this bitter and strong wind. I dare not light a fire, as I take cold quitting it to go on deck; all the glass windows are closed,—I have on a pair of Indian shawls, snow boots, and a velvet cap,—still my face and head throb with rheumatism. When on deck, at mid-day, I wear a sola topī, to defend me from the sun.
This river is very picturesque; high cliffs, well covered with wood, rising abruptly from the water: here and there a Hindoo temple, with a great peepul-tree spreading its fine green branches around it: a ruined native fort: clusters of native huts: beautiful stone ghāts jutting into the river: the effect greatly increased by the native women, in their picturesque drapery, carrying their vessels for water up and down the cliffs, poised on their heads. Fishermen are seen with their large nets; and droves of goats and small cows, buffaloes, and peacocks come to the river-side to feed. But the most picturesque of all are the different sorts of native vessels; I am quite charmed with the boats. Oh that I were a painter, who could do justice to the scenery! My pinnace, a beautiful vessel, so unlike any thing else here, must add beauty to the river, especially when under sail.
Aground on a sandbank again! with such a wind and stream it is not pleasant—hardly safe. What a noise! attempting to force her off the bank; it is terribly hard work; the men, up to their waists in water, are shoving the vessel with their backs, whilst the wind and stream throw her back again. Some call on Allah for aid, some on Gunga, some on Jumna-jee, every man shouting at the height of his voice. What a squall! the vessel lies over frightfully. I wish the wind would abate! forced sideways down on the sandbank by the wind and stream, it is not pleasant. There! there is a howl that ought to succeed in forcing her off, in spite of the tufān; such clouds of fine sand blowing about in every direction! Now the vessel rocks, now we are off once more,—back we are again! I fancy the wind and stream will have their own way. Patience, mem sāhiba, you are only eight miles from Etaweh: when you may get over those eight miles may be a difficult calculation. The men are fagging, up to their breasts in the river; I must go on deck, and make a speech. What a scene! I may now consider myself really in the wilderness, such watery waists are spread before me!