THE TEMPLE OF BHAWĀNĪ.
TEMPLE OF BHAWANI.
Sketched on the Spot and on stone by فاني پارکس
I encountered a man who happened to be an hajjām, a cupper and scarifier. Now, in all Eastern stories a personage of this description appears to be a necessary appendage, and mine, who was also a barber and an Hindū, offered to show me the way to the temple of the Devī. The road, which is straight through the narrow paved alley of the bazār, must be half a mile or more in length: in time we arrived at the temple; three flags were flying from an old peepul-tree, and the noise of the bells which the Brahmāns were tinkling for worship told of the abode of the goddess. The temple, which is built of stone, is of rectangular form, surrounded by a verandah, the whole encompassed by a flight of five steps. The roof is flat, and the pillars that support it of plain and coarse workmanship. On the left is the entrance to the Hindū holy of holies. The Brahmāns begged me to take off my shoes, and said I might then enter and see the face of the goddess. I thought of the Thugs, and my curiosity induced me to leave my shoes at the door, and to advance about three yards into the little dark chamber. The place was in size so small, that when six people were in it, it appeared quite full; the walls were of large coarse stones. The worshippers were turned out of the apartment, and they gave me a full view of the Devī, the great goddess, the renowned Bhagwān!
The head of the figure is of black stone with large eyes, the whites of which are formed of plates of burnished silver: these glaring eyes attract the admiration of the Hindūs:—“Look at her eyes!” said one. Thrown over the top of her head, strings of white jasmine flowers (the double sweet-scented chumpa) took the place of hair, and hung down to the shoulders. If you were to cut a woman off just at the knees, spread a red sheet over her, as if she were going to be shaved, hiding her arms entirely with it, but allowing her feet to be seen at the bottom, making the figure nearly square—you would have the form of the goddess. The two little black feet rested on a black rat, at least they called it so, and a small emblem of Mahadēo stood at the side. Six or eight long chaplets of freshly-gathered flowers hung from her neck to her feet festooned in gradation,—they were formed of the blossoms of the marigold, the chumpa, or white jasmine, and the bright red pomegranate. The figure stood upon a square slab of black stone. It was about four feet in height, and looked more like a child’s toy than a redoubtable goddess. The Brahmān or the Thug, whichever he might be, (for at this shrine all castes worship,) took a white flower, and gave it to me as a present for the goddess, at the same time requesting a rupee as an offering at the shrine. I had no money, but the old bearer had five paisā (about one penny three farthings), which he gave to the Brahmān, who said, “This is not enough to buy a sweetmeat for the goddess!” I made answer,
“I give thee all, I have no more,
Though poor the offering be.”
The man saw it was the truth, and was satisfied. The old bearer then requested me to hold my sketch-book for a few moments whilst he went in and put up a prayer: this I did, and the old man returned very quickly, much pleased at having seen the Devī.
I sketched the goddess when before the shrine, the Brahmān holding the lamp for me. Over her head was suspended from the ceiling an ornament of white flowers, and a lamp like that in the robber’s cave in “Gil Blas” was also hanging from the roof. There was also a lamp on the black slab, which had the appearance of a Roman lamp. Ornaments worn on the wrists of Hindū women, called kangan, formed of a small hank of red, or rather flame-coloured cotton, intermixed with yellow, were offered to the Devī: the Brahmāns put them on her shoulders, as arms she had none. Why and wherefore the kangan is offered, I know not. Before a satī ascends the funeral-pile, some red cotton is tied on both wrists. This may, probably, account for the kangan offered to Bhagwān, the patroness of satīs.
BHAGWĀN.
Sketched in the Temple and on Stone by فاني پارکس
I thought of the Thugs, but mentioned not the name in the temple; it is not wise “to dwell in the river and be at enmity with the crocodile[52].” In the verandah of the temple were two massive bells of a metal looking like bronze.
I can fancy terror acting on the Hindoos when worshipping the great black hideous idol, Kalī Ma, at Kalī-ghāt, near Calcutta; but this poor stump of a woman, with quiet features, staring eyes of silver, and little black feet, inspires no terror:—and yet she is Bhagwān—the dreaded Bhagwān!
The temple was crowded by men and women coming and going, as fast as possible, in great numbers. The month of Aghar is the time of the annual meeting; it begins November 15th, and ends the 13th of December; therefore Bindachun must be full of rascals and Thugs at this present time, who have come here to arrange their religious murders, and to make vows and pūja.
This visit to Bindachun interested me extremely; the style of the temple surprised me; it is unlike any of the Hindoo places of worship I have seen, and must be of very ancient date. The pillars are of a single stone without ornament, rough and rude. Some of the shops in the bazār, like the one on the right where sweetmeats are sold, are of curious architecture; stone is used for all the buildings, quarries being abundant in this part of the country.
The people crowded around me whilst I was sketching the exterior of the temple, but were all extremely civil: the Brahmāns and beggars clamoured for paisā (copper coins), but were civil nevertheless. It is a disreputable neighbourhood: I hope they will not rob the boats to-night, as all the rascals and murderers in India flock to this temple at the time of the annual fair, which is now being held. Having made my salām to the great goddess, I was guided by the barber to another idol, which he said was worshipped by very few people. It was a female figure, very well executed in stone, with four or five figures around it, carved on the same block. I was much inclined to carry it off; it is one of the handsomest pieces of Hindū sculpture I have seen. A few flowers were lying withered before it in the hovel where it stood, placed there, it may be, by the piety of the barber. Even my husband was induced to climb the steps of the ghāt, and to walk through the bazār to the temple, but he did not enter it. A number of idols were under a peepul-tree in the bazār; they were a great temptation, but in this high place of superstition it might be dangerous to carry off a god.
This wandering life is very delightful; I shall never again be content “to sit in a parlour sewing a seam,” which the old song gives forth as the height of feminine felicity! Much sooner would I grope through a dark alley idol hunting—Apropos, by the idols under the peepul-tree was a satī mound, broken and deserted, not even a kālsa was there to claim the passing salām of the Hindū, nor a flower to mark the spot: perhaps the great goddess draws off the worshippers from the deified mortal, although all satīs are peculiarly under her protection.
THE TASHMA-BAZ THUGS.
“Thuggee and Meypunnaism are no sooner suppressed than a new system of secret assassination and robbery is discovered, proving the truth of Colonel Sleeman’s remark, that ‘India is a strange land; and live in it as long as we may, and mix with its people as much as we please, we shall to the last be constantly liable to stumble upon new moral phenomena to excite our special wonder.’ As anticipated, at least one set of new actors have to be introduced to the public, and these are the Tashma-baz Thugs.
“The Thugs formerly discovered went forth on their murderous expeditions under the protection of a goddess, the Tashmabazes have for their genius a European! Who in England would be prepared to credit that the thimble-riggers of English fairs have in India given rise to an association that, in the towns, bazārs, and highways of these provinces, employs the game of stick and garter as the lure for victims destined to be robbed or murdered? Yet this is the simple fact. The British had hardly gained possession of this territory before the seeds of the flourishing system of iniquity, brought to light almost half a century afterwards, were sowed in 1802 by a private soldier in one of his majesty’s regiments stationed at Cawnpore. The name of this man was Creagh. He initiated several natives into the mysteries of the stick and garter, and these afterwards appeared as the leaders of as many gangs, who traversed the country, gambling with whomsoever they could entrap to try their luck at this game. It consists of rolling up a doubled strap, the player putting a stick between any two of its convolutions, and when the ends of the strap are pulled, it unrolls, and either comes away altogether, or is held at the double by the stick, and this decides whether the player loses or wins. A game requiring apparently no peculiar skill, and played by parties cleverly acting their parts as strangers to each other,—being even dressed in character,—readily tempted any greedy simpleton to try his luck, and show his cash. If he lost, he might go about his business; if he won, he was induced to remain with the gamblers, or was followed, and as opportunity offered was either stupified with poisonous drugs, or by any convenient method murdered. Many corpses found from time to time along the vicinity of the Grand Trunk road, without any trace of the assassins, are now believed to have been the remains of the Tashmabazes’ victims; and distinct information has been obtained from their own members of murders committed by them. The merest trifle, it seems, was sufficient inducement to them to commit the crime, there being one case of three poor grass-cutters murdered by those miscreants in a jungle, merely for the sake of their trifling personal property. Indeed, these gangs seem to have been of a more hardened character than any other yet discovered, for their sole aim was gain, however it might be secured, without the plea of religious motive which regulated the proceedings of the other fraternities. Parties of them used to visit all the chief towns and stations of the Doab and its neighbourhood, and established themselves in the thoroughfares leading to the principal cities. Under the guise of gamblers, they were often brought to the notice of the authorities, and subjected to the trifling punishments due to minor offences; but this was the very thing that lulled suspicion as to their real character. They were constantly in the power of many dangerous acquaintances; but these were bribed to silence out of their abundant spoils. The police almost every where seem to have been bought over. In the city of Gwalior, the kotwal got one-fourth of their profits; and in the British territory, five rupees a day have been paid as hush-money to the neighbouring thannah. Amongst their friends was the mess khansaman of a regiment at Meerut, the brother of one of their chiefs, and an accomplice. Gold and silver coin, and ornaments of pearl and coral, formed part of the remittances that used to be sent to their head-quarters at Cawnpore. Indeed, they seem to have carried on a very safe and lucrative business, until the magistrates of Boolundshuhr and Cawnpore pounced upon them in the beginning of this year. Mr. Montgomery followed up their apprehension by a full report to Government, when the matter was taken up by the Thuggee Department, the sifting machinery of which, in the hands of Major Graham, soon brought to light all the facts necessary to establish that the gang formed a hitherto unknown class of Thugs.”—Agra Messenger, Dec. 2, 1848.
12th.—One mile above Bindachun are the dangerous granite rocks of Seebpūr. After a very quiet day and very little difficulty, we anchored off the village of Bhoghwa, where we were informed by the chaukidār, that turkeys, fowls, and birds were abundant.
The exertion of yesterday quite fagged me; I was up and sketching from six in the morning to eleven A.M., at Mirzapūr, and again in the evening at the temple of Bhawānī,—a day of over-fatigue, but a very agreeable one. How I love this roaming life on the river, with the power of stopping at any picturesque spot!—Even tracking against the stream is most delightful to one who, like Dr. Syntax, is in search of the picturesque. My husband objects to accompanying me through the bazārs, because such a crowd collect after me;—he goes along quietly, but with me it is different:—the moment I stop to sketch, a crowd collects, and the attendants are obliged to drive them off to enable me to see the object. I have a great sympathy for Dr. Syntax, and perfectly comprehend the delight he took even in a picturesque horsepond. India would have driven him wild;—it is the country of the picturesque. How I love this life in the wilderness! I shall never be content to vegetate in England in some quiet country place.
“Oh! it settles the spirits, when nothing is seen
But a pig on a common, a goose on a green.”
13th.—After an uninteresting passage with monotonous scenery, we moored off Poorooā, a village on the left bank. Wild ducks, geese, and Brahmanī ducks are numerous on the river-side: it is very cold, so much so that I shall be glad to retire to rest to keep myself warm.
14th.—No wind—a warmer day, and no difficulty on the river. Anchored at a bastī (village) about three miles below Sirsya. The Directory says, “Twenty-eight miles above Mirzapūr, on the left bank of the river, is Suttamaree. Passengers generally land in the cold season, and have a walk across the neck of land in a W.N.W. direction, two miles wide to Taila, and rejoin the steamer off that place, she having to go a détour of twenty-one miles round the point. Two miles above Suttamaree is Deega-kunkur Spit, with a deep bight.
“Letchyagurree and its ravine on the left bank of the river is twenty-two miles above Deega, noted for its robbers, when it was attached to the Oude territories.”
We have now arrived within a very short distance of Allahabad; I shall be quite sorry to end my voyage, and feel the greatest reluctance to returning into society.
15th.—“Sirsya is a large cotton mart on the right bank; it is sixty miles above Mirzapūr and twenty-three miles below Allahabad, to which place there is a good road. There are several pakka (brick) houses here, and two very fine tanks at the back of it, and an old mud fort; thence to Prāg, the river is very intricate and shallow. Iron work in a small way can be done for boats at this place. Turkeys and guinea-fowls abound.”
We passed Sirsya early, and found that the Queen’s 40th regiment had just quitted the place. No fowls or provisions were to be had,—the 40th, like a flight of locusts, had devoured every thing around the spot on which they descended; some hilsā fish alone were to be procured, and most delicious they proved,—not only when fresh, but also when cured with tamarinds and vinegar. There is a house, some temples, and a peepul-tree on the cliff, that would make a good sketch, if taken looking up the river a little below the spot. In consequence of the shallowness of the stream we have had much trouble all day, and were unable to lugāo until half-past seven P.M.—cold and misty.
16th.—Arrived at Munyah ghāt, on the right bank, at noon,—eight miles from Prāg. The river is so intricate, and the navigation so difficult, we shall be a length of time going those eight miles.
The “Directory” says,—“Allahabad is eighty-three miles above Mirzapūr; its fort is at the junction of the Ganges and Jumna. The steamers put up at the Jama Masjid, half a mile inside the Jumna. The native military cantonments, and the place where most of the civilians and officers live, are from three to four miles inland. State prisoners are kept here in the fort. There is also a large stone pillar, said to have been erected by Alexander the Great to mark his conquests. This is the seat of the Sadr Dewanī, or principal court of justice; it was formerly the seat of the Presidency. Bread, butter, eggs, beef, mutton, lamb, kids, fowls, pigeons, turkeys, guinea-fowl, quail, partridge, teal, wild ducks, and wild geese, are procurable here: Europe shops are at the station, and auctions are held. About two miles from the ghāt is the chauk or market, where all sorts of cloth, European and native, are procurable. Shawl-men board the steamers, if sent for, with every kind of Cashmere shawl, waistcoating, caps, gloves, socks, and Afghanistān woollen cloths: as also Delhi jewellers, and manufacturers of cotton carpeting, of various colours, showy on rooms, and rather durable. A little beyond the chauk is the native sarā’e, where beautiful horses are at times to be purchased, of the Persian, Cabul, and Tūrkī breeds. You must send for your letters to the post-office.
“The distance from Calcutta, viâ Bhagirathī, is 831 miles; viâ Sunderbands, 1186; and by dāk route, 504 miles.
“Steamer’s regulated distance is 800 miles. Steamers remain here three entire days, when they depart on their return, taking passengers and cargo. Apply to the agent there, or to the commander, for passage downwards.”
In 1844 the Sadr Board of Revenue and the Criminal and Civil Court, or Sadr Dewanī, were removed to Agra.
At half-past one, P.M., we caught the first sight of the fort and the telegraph. The flags were flying at the junction of the rivers, and the road from the sands over the Mahratta Band was plainly visible. Near Arail, just below the ferry, the river is intricate; and the passage being difficult, we lugāoed off the ferry.
17th.—The Fort of Allahabad had an imposing appearance from the river, and as we approached nearer we observed the flags flying at the bathing-place in great numbers, although the fair was not set. It was delightful once again to see old Prāg, the Jama Masjid, the old well, surmounted by the temple—so like that of the Sibyl, where dwells the Gossein,—the shrine of Mahadēo a little above it, our old friend’s bungalow beyond, and the fine peepul-tree on the high bank of the Jumna, that almost hides the house and chabūtara, where we had passed so many years. Our old acquaintances are flocking down to welcome our return: we are once more at Allahabad, once more lugāoed in the blue waters of the Jumna, off the steamer ghāt.