CHAPTER 6
Bhainsrorgarh, February 19.—Bhainsrorgarh,[[1]] ten miles, four furlongs; thermometer 51°; atmosphere dense and oppressive, and roads execrable, through a deep forest; but for the hatchets of my friends, my baggage never could have been got on. We passed several hamlets, consisting of a dozen or more huts, the first of which I find belongs to my young friend Morji of Gura, himself a vassal of the Pramar of Bijoli (one of the sixteen Omras of Mewar), and holding a few bighas of bhum, as his bat or share of the bapota (patrimony) of Barao. We have elsewhere given a copy of the tenure on which Morji holds a village in the fief of Bijoli.[[2]] At seven miles from Dangarmau, we came to a small shrine of an Islamite saint, who buried himself alive. It is an elevated point, from whence is a wild but lovely prospect. There is a kund, or ‘fountain,’ planted with trees, close to the shrine, which attracts a weekly mela or ‘fair,’ attended by all classes, who cannot help attributing some virtue to a spot where a saint, though a Muslim, thus expiated his sins. In descending, we heard the roaring of mighty waters, and soon came upon the Bamani, forming a fine cascade of about fifty feet in height; its furious course during the monsoon is apparent from the weeds it has left on the trees, at least twenty feet above its present level. The fall of the country is rapid, even from this lower spot, to the bed of the Chambal. Uparmal must have a considerable elevation above the table-land of Janapao, where the Chambal and other streams have their fountains; but of all this we shall by and by form a more correct opinion. We passed the cairn of a Rajput who fell defending his post against the Minas of the Kairar, a tract on the banks of the Banas, filled with this banditti, in one of their last irruptions which disturbed the peace of this region. Each traveller adds a stone, and I gave my mite to swell the heap [649].
The patta of Bhainsror is held by Raghunath Singh, one of the sixteen great lords of Mewar, having the very ancient title of Rawat, peculiar to Rajputana, and the diminutive of Rao.[[3]] Bhainsror is one of the best fiefs of Mewar, and the lands attached to it are said to be capable of yielding one lakh of annual revenue, equal to £50,000 in the dearest countries of Europe; and when I add that a cavalier can support himself, his steed, etc., on £50, its relative value will at once be understood. He has also a toll upon the ferries of the Chambal, though not content therewith, he levied until lately a percentage on all merchandise, besides impositions on travellers of whatever description, under the name of kot ki marummat, or ‘repairs of the castle’: were we, however, to judge by its dilapidated condition, we should say his exactions were very light, or the funds were misapplied. This is the sole passage of the Chambal for a great extent, and all the commerce of higher Malwa, Haraoti, and Mewar passes through this domain. The class of Banjaras (traders) termed Vaishnava, long established at the city of Pur in Mewar, frequent no other route in their journey from the salt-lakes of the desert to Malwa or Bundelkhand. Their tanda or caravan consists of six thousand bullocks, and they never make less than two, and often three, trips in the year. The duty of the Raj is five rupees for each hundred head thus laden; but the feudatory, not content with his imposition of ‘castle repairs’ and ‘bhum’ as lord of the manor, has added a hundred and fifty per cent to the regular transit duty of the State, which is divided into two items; namely, three rupees and a half for the ferry, and as much for bolai, or safe escort through his territory. But as Haraoti always afforded protection (which could be said of no other region of independent India), the ghat of the Chambal was much frequented, in spite of these heavy drawbacks to industry. My friend the Rawat has, however, found it expedient to remove all these war-taxes, retaining only that portion which has been attached to the frontier post, for protection; and a portion of the ferry-rate granted to this fief nearly two centuries ago. Instead of about fifteen per cent, as heretofore levied, including that of the crown, it amounts to less than one-half, and the revenue has been quadrupled!
Bhainsrorgarh Fort.
The Rapids of the Chambal.
On the north alone is it accessible, and there the hill is scarped; but this scarp, which is about three hundred yards distant, forms a good cover, and a few shells thence played upon the castle would soon compel it to surrender. The rock is a soft, loose, blue schistose slate, which would not retard the miner. The approach from the river, here about five hundred yards wide, would be destruction. It is never fordable, and its translucent sea-green waters are now full forty feet in depth. When in the periodical rains it accumulates at its source, and is fed during its passage by many minor streams from the Vindhya and this oberland, its velocity is overwhelming; it rises above the opposing bank, and laying the whole tract to the base of the tableland of Haraoti under water, sweeps away in its irresistible course even the rocks. Speculation might here be exhausted in vain attempts to explain how nature could overcome this formidable obstacle to her operations, and how the stream could effect its passage through this adamantine barrier. The channel cut in the rock is as clean as if performed by the chisel, and standing on the summit of the cliff, which is from three hundred to seven hundred feet in height, one discerns in imagination the marks of union: to use the words of our last great bard, on the Rhone,
Heights which appear as lovers who have parted
In hate, whose mining depths so intervene,
That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted.
The Rapids of the Chambal.
Mewar still extends east of the river, and the greater part of the estate of Bhainsror is on the opposite side. A small stream, called the Karab-ka-khal, divides the lands of the Haras from those of the Sesodias, and there is a bijak-marga, or landmark inscription, at the Shesa talao, put up centuries ago. To this line, and between it and the Chambal, is the paita of Kundal; and farther south, towards Rampura, is that of Pachail, both containing twenty-four villages attached to Bhainsror. All that tract farther inland in Upper Malwa, termed Malkides, in which are the towns of Chaichat and Saket, was in old times included geographically in Mewar: it is yet possessed by the Saktawats, though subject to Kotah.
Tradition has preserved the etymology of Bhainsror, and dates its erection from the second century of the era of Vikrama, though others make it antecedent even to him. Be that as it may, it adds a fact of some importance, namely, that the Charans, or bards, were then, as now, the privileged carriers of Rajwara, and that this was one of their great lines of communication. Bhainsror, therefore, instead of being the work [652] of some mighty conqueror, owes its existence to the joint efforts of Bhainsa Sah, the merchant, and Rora, a Charan and Banjara, to protect their tandas (caravans) from the lawless mountaineers, when compelled to make a long halt during the periodical rains.[[5]] How many lines of heroes possessed it before the Haras established themselves among its ruins is unknown, though the “universal Pramar” is mentioned. Its subsequent change of masters, and their names and history, are matters of less doubt; since the altars of the Dudia, the Pramar, the Rathor, the Saktawat, the Chondawat,
—who sought and found, by dangerous roads,
A path to perpetuity of fame,
are still visible. Of the Dudia name we have already preserved one wreck, though the “rocket of the moon,” was of the family who dwelt upon the whirlpools of the Chambal, we must leave to conjecture. Not so of his successor, the Rathor, who was a scion of the house of Mewa,[[6]] on the Salt River of the desert, from which, though he was but a vassal of Mandor, the Rana scorned not to take a wife boasting the pure blood of the kings of Kanauj. A younger brother accompanied her to the court of Chitor. Soon after, the Rawal of Jaisalmer dared to put an affront upon the Rana, the acknowledged head of the Rajput race! The chivalry of Mewar was assembled, and the bira of vengeance held up, which the stripling heir of Mewa, darting forward, obtained. Although but fifteen years of age, entreaties were lost upon him to induce him to renounce the enterprise, which in all probability some border-feud of his paternal house and the Bhattis, as well as swamidharma, or fealty, to his sovereign and kinsman, may have prompted. His only request was that he might be aided by two of his intimate friends, and five hundred horse of his own selection. How he passed the desert, or how he gained admittance to the chief of the Bhatti tribe, is not stated; suffice it to say, that he brought the Rawal’s head and placed it at the feet of the sovereign of Chitor, for which service he had a grant of Salumbar; and subsequently (fiefs in those days not being amovable) he was removed to Bhainsror. The young Rathor continued to rise in favour; he was already by courtesy and marriage the bhanej, or nephew, of his sovereign, who for this action bestowed upon him a young princess of his own blood; an honour which in the end proved fatal. One day, the Thakur (chief) was enjoying himself in his baronial hall of Bhainsror, in the midst of his little court, with a nautch, when a fatal curiosity, perhaps instigated by jealousy, induced his Rani to peep out from the lattice above. Offended at this violation of decorum, he said aloud to an attendant, “Tell the Thakurani, if she is [653] eager to come abroad, she may do so, and I will retire.” The lady disputed the justice of the reprimand, asserting that her lord had been mistaken, and tried to shift the reproach to one of her damsels; but failing to convince him, she precipitated herself from the battlements into the whirlpools beneath: the spot where she fell into the Chambal still retains the name of Ranighatta.[[7]] When it was reported to the Rana that a false accusation had caused the suicide of his niece, the sentence of banishment from Mewar was pronounced against the Rathor, which was afterwards commuted, out of a regard for his former service, to the sequestration of Bhainsror; and he had the small fief of Nimri and its twenty dependent hamlets, situated upon the Patar, and not far from Bhainsror, bestowed upon him.
Bijai Singh, the descendant of the hero of this tale, has just been to see me; a shrewd and stalwart knight, not a whit degenerated by being transplanted from the Luni to the Chambal; for, though surrounded by Mahratta depredators, by means of the fastnesses in which he dwells, and with the aid of his good lance, with which he repays them in kind, he has preserved his little estate in times so fatal to independence. Had I not entered deeply into the history of the past, I might have been led away by the disadvantageous reports given of these brave men, who were classed with the common freebooters of the hills, and pointed out as meriting similar chastisement; since these associations, both for their own security and retaliation on the vagabond Mahrattas, who usurped or destroyed their birthright, gave a colour to the complaints against them.
The Pramar (vulg. Puar) succeeded the Rathor in the fief of Bhainsror. How long the former held it is uncertain; but the mode in which the last vassal chieftain lost it and his life together, affords another trait of national manners. Here again the fair, whose influence over the lords of Rajputana we have elsewhere mentioned, was the cause of the catastrophe. The Pramar had espoused the daughter of his neighbour chieftain of Begun, and they lived happily until a game at pachisi, somewhat resembling chess, caused a dispute, in which he spoke slightingly of her family, an affront never to be pardoned by a Rajputni; and the next day she wrote to her father. The messenger had not left his presence with the reply, before the nakkara beat the assembly for the kher.[[8]] The descendants of the ‘black cloud’ (Kalamegh) obeyed the summons, and the hamlets on the Bamani, or the Patar, poured forth their warriors at the sound of the tocsin of Begun. When the cause of quarrel was explained, it came home to every bosom, and they forthwith marched to avenge it. Their road lay [654] through the forest of Antri; but when arrived within a few coss of Bhainsror, they divided their band, and while the chief took the more circuitous route of the pass, the heir of Begun followed the course of the Bamani, took the Pramar by surprise, and had slain him in single combat ere his father joined him. The insult to the Meghawats being avenged, the Pramars were about to retaliate; but seeing the honour of her house thus dearly maintained, affection succeeded to resentment, and the Rajputni determined to expiate her folly with her life. The funeral pile was erected close to the junction of the Bamani and Chambal, and she ascended with the body of her lord, her own father setting fire to it. I encamped close to the altars recording the event.
This feud changed the law of succession in the Begun estate. The gallantry of the young Meghawat consoled the old chief for the tragical event which lost him a daughter; and in a full council of “the sons of Kalamegh,” the rights of primogeniture were set aside in favour of the valorous youth, and the lord paramount (the Rana) confirmed the decision. The subordinate fief of Jathana, which formerly comprehended the present district of Jawad, was settled on the elder son, whose descendant, Tej Singh, still holds a share of it, besides the title of Rawat. Both estates have alike suffered from the Mahrattas, equally with others in Mewar.
The successor of the Pramar was a Chondawat, of the branch Kishanawat, and a younger son of Salumbar; and it would be well for Lal Singh had he sought no higher distinction than that to which his birth entitled him. But Lalji Rawat was a beacon in the annals of crime, and is still held out as an example to those who would barter a good name here, and the hope of the life to come, for the evanescent gifts of fortune. He purchased the honours of Bhainsror by shedding the blood of his bosom-friend, the uncle of his sovereign.
Nāthji Mahārāja.
To be released from such a restraint, Arsi at last resolved on assassinating his uncle; but his valour and giant strength made the attempt a service of danger, and he therefore employed one who, under the cloak of friendship, could use the poniard without risk. Lal Singh was the man, the bosom friend of the Maharaja, who, besides exchanging turbans with him, had pledged his friendship at the altar; a man who knew every secret of his heart, and that there was no treason in it. It was midnight, when a voice broke in upon his devotions, calling on him from the portico by name. No other could have taken this liberty, and the reply, “Come in, brother Lalji; what brings you here at such an hour?” had scarcely passed the lips of Nathji, when, as he made the last prostration to the image, he received the dagger of his friend in his neck, and the emblem of Siva was covered with his blood! For this service, the assassin was rewarded with the fief of Bhainsror, and a seat amongst the sixteen barons of Mewar; but as the number cannot be increased, the rights of the Saktawat chief of Bansi were cancelled; thus adding one crime to another, which however worked out its own reward, and at once avenged the murder of Nathji, and laid Mewar in ruins, causing [656] fresh streams of the blood which had already so copiously flowed from the civil wars arising out of the hostility of these rival clans, the Saktawats and Chondawats.
Lalji did not long enjoy his honours; his crime of “triple dye” was ever present to his mind, and generated a loathsome, incurable disease; for even in these lands, where such occurrences are too frequent, “the still small voice” is heard: worms consumed the traitor while living, and his memory is blasted now that he is dead; while that of Nathji is sanctified, as a spirit gentle, valorous, and devout.
Man Singh, the son of this man of blood, succeeded to the honours of Bhainsror, and was a soldier of no common stamp. At the battle of Ujjain, where the Rana of Mewar made the last grand stand for independence, Man was badly wounded, made captive, and brought in the train of the conquering Mahratta, when he laid siege to Udaipur. As he was recovering from his wounds, his friends attempted to effect his liberation through that notorious class called the Baoris,[[10]] and contrived to acquaint him with the plot. The wounded chief was consoling himself for his captivity by that great panacea for ennui, a nautch, and applauding the fine voice of a songstress of Ujjain as she warbled a tappa of the Panjab, when a significant sign was made by a stranger. He instantly exclaimed that his wounds had broken out afresh, staggered towards his pallet, and throwing down the light, left all in confusion and darkness, which favoured the Baori’s design; who, while one of his friends took possession of the pallet, wrapped the sick chief in a chadar (sheet), threw him on his back, and carried him through the camp of the besiegers to the city. The Rana, rejoiced at his liberation, commanded a salute to be fired, and the first intelligence the Mahratta leader had of his prisoner’s escape was in answer to the question as to the cause of such rejoicing; they then found one of the vassal substitutes of Man still occupying the bed, but the sequel does not mention how such fidelity was repaid. The cenotaph (chhatri) of this brave son of an unworthy sire is at the Tribeni, or point of confluence of the three streams, the Chambal, the Bamani, and the Khal; and from its light and elegant construction, adds greatly to the picturesque effect of the scenery. The present chief, Raghunath Singh, who succeeded Man, has well maintained his independence throughout these perilous times. Bapu Sindhia, whose name will long be remembered as one of the scourges of these realms, tried his skill upon Bhainsror, where the remains of his trenches, to the north-west of the town, are still conspicuous; but he was met with sortie after sortie, while the hill-tribes were nightly let loose upon him, until he was forced to make a precipitate retreat [657].
I cannot conclude the annals of this family without a passing remark on the great moral change effected since the power of Britain has penetrated into these singular abodes. It was my habit to attend on any of the chieftains who honoured me by an invitation to their family fêtes, such as their salgirahs, or ‘birthdays’;[[11]] and on these occasions I merged the Agent of the British Government entirely in the friend, and went without ceremony or parade. Amongst my numerous pagri badal bhai, or ‘adopted brothers’ (as well as sisters), was the Maharaja Sheodan Singh, the grandson and possessor of the honours and estates of Nathji, who still enjoys the domain of Bagor, and from whom I used to receive a share of its melons, which he cultivates with the same ardour as his grandsire. The ‘annual knot’ (salgirah) of my friend was celebrated on the terraced roof of his palace, overhanging the lake of Udaipur, and I was by his side listening, in the intervals of the song, to some of his extemporaneous poetical effusions (on which my friend placed rather too high a value), when amongst the congratulatory names called aloud by the herald, I was surprised to hear, “Maharaja Salamat, Rawat Raghunath Singhji-ka mujra lijo!” or, “Health to the Maharaja, and let him receive the compliments of Rawat Raghunath Singh”: the grandson of the murderer come to pay his respects to the grandson of the murdered, and to press with his knee the gaddi on which he sat! With justice may we repeat their powerful metaphor, on such anomalies in the annals of their feuds—bher aur bakri ekhi thali se pītē hain, ‘the wolf and the goat drink from the same platter.’[[12]] We might thus, by a little attention to the past history and habits of these singularly interesting races, confer signal moral benefits upon them; for it must be evident that the germs of many excellent qualities require only the sunshine of kindness to ripen into goodly fruit; and for the sake of our own welfare, as well as that of humanity, let not the protecting power, in the exercise of patronage, send amongst them men who are not imbued with feelings which will lead them to understand, to appreciate, and to administer fitting counsel, or correction where necessary. The remembrance of these injuries is still fresh, and it requires but the return of anarchy again to unsheath the poniard and drug the cup; but if we consult their real good, the recollection will gradually grow fainter.
Bhainsror attacked by Alāu-d-dīn.
Yasya yasya jāda bhūmis,
Tasya tasya tadā phalam.[[13]]
“Samvat 1302 (A.D. 1246).” This form of sasan, or religious charity, is peculiar, and styled sasan Udayaditya, which proves that the Pramar, of whom this is a memorial, was a feudatory of the prince of Dhar, whose era has been fixed. These discoveries stimulated our research, and my revered friend and Guru, who is now deeply embued with antiquarian enthusiasm, vainly offered a large reward for permission to dig for the image of Parsvanath, his great pontiff, of whose shrine he has no doubt the first inscription is a memorial. When about to leave this place (indeed our baggage had gone on), we were informed of some celebrated temples across the river at a place called Baroli, anciently Dholpur. The shrine is dedicated to Ghateswara Mahadeva, with a lingam revolving in the yoni, the wonder of those who venture amongst its almost impervious and unfrequented woods to worship. As I could not go myself, I dispatched the Guru to hunt for inscriptions and bring me an account of it.
Dābhi, February 20, eleven miles; thermometer 48°.—Reascended the third steppe of our miniature Alp, at the Nasera pass (ghat), the foot of which was exactly five miles from Bhainsror, and three and a half furlongs more carried us to its summit, which is of easy ascent, though the pathway was rugged, lying between high peaks on either side. This alone will give a tolerable idea of the height of the Patar above the level of the river. Majestic trees cover the hill from the base to its summit, through [659] which we could never have found a passage for the baggage without the axe. Besides some noble tamarind (imli) trees, there was the lofty semal, or cotton-tree; the gnarled sakhu, which looks like a leper amongst its healthy brethren; the tendu, or ebony-tree, now in full fruit, and the useful dhao, besides many others of less magnitude.[[14]]—The landscape from the summit was grand: we looked down upon the Charmanvati (vulg. Chambal) and the castle of Raghunath; while the eye commanded a long sweep of the black Bamani gliding through the vale of Antri to its termination at the tombs of the Saktawats. The road to Dabhi was very fair for such a tract, and when within four miles of our tents, we crossed a stream said to have its fountain at Menal, which must consequently be one of the highest points of Uparmal. This rill afforded another means of estimating the height of our position, for besides the general fall to the brink of the chasm, it precipitates itself in a fine cascade of three hundred feet. Neither time nor place admitted of our following this rill to its termination, about six miles distant, through a rugged woody tract. From the summit of the pass of Nasera, we had a peep at the tomb of a Muslim saint, whence the ground gradually shelved to the end of our journey at Kotah.
Monuments to Warriors.
Karipur, February 21, 9½ miles.—Encamped in the glen of Karipura, confined and wild. Thermometer 51°, but a fine, clear, bracing atmosphere. Our route lay through a tremendous jungle. Half-way, crossed the ridge, the altitude of which made up for the descent to Dabhi, but from whence we again descended to Karipura. There were many hamlets in this almost impervious forest; but all were desolate, and the only trace of population was in the altars of those who had defended to the death their dreary abodes against the ruthless Mina of the Kairar, which we shall visit on our return.
Sontra.
“Samvat 1422 (A.D. 1366). Pardi, Teja, and his son, Deola Pardi, from the fear of shame, for the gods, Brahmans, their cattle, and their wives, sold their lives.”
“S. 1446 (A.D. 1390). In the month of Asarh (badi yakam): Monday, in the castle of Sontra (Sutrawan durg), the Pramar Uda, Kala, Bhuna, for their kine, wives, Brahmans, along with the putra Chonda, sold their existence.”
“S. 1466 (A.D. 1410), the 1st Asarh, and Monday, at Sontragram, Rugha, the Chaora, in defence of the gods, his wife, and the Brahmans, sold his life.”
The following was copied from a kund, or fountain, excavated in the rock:
“S. 1370 (A.D. 1314), the 16th of Asarh (sudi yakam), he, whose renown is unequalled, the king, the lord of men, Maharaja Adiraj, Sri Alau-d-din, with his army of three thousand elephants, ten lakhs of horse, war-chariots and foot without number, conquering from Sambhar in the north, Malwa, Karnat, Kanor, Jalor, Jaisalmer, Deogir, Tailang, even to the shores of the ocean, and Chandrapuri in the east; victorious over all the kings of the earth, and by whom Sutrawan Durg, with its twelve townships, have been wrested from the Pramar Mansi; by whose son, Bilaji, whose birthplace (utpatti) is Sri Dhar, this fountain was excavated. Written and also engraved by Sahideva the stone-cutter (sutradhar).”
Beneath the surface of the fountain was another inscription, but there was no time to bale out the water, which some future traveller over the Patar may accomplish. Sontra, or as classically written, Satrudurg, ‘the inaccessible to the foe,’ was one of the castles of the Pramar, no doubt dependent on Chitor when under the Mori dynasty; and this was only one of the subdivisions of Central India, which was all under Pramar dominion, from the Nerbudda to the Jumna—an assertion proved by inscriptions and traditions. We shall hear more of this at Menal and Bijoli on our return over Uparmal, which I resolve to be thoroughly acquainted with.
Kotah, February 22, eleven miles to the banks of the Chambal.—Although not a cloud was to be seen, the sun was invisible till more than spear-high, owing to a thick vapoury mist, accompanied by a cold piercing wind from the north-west. The descent was gradual all the way to the river, but the angle may be estimated from the fact that the pinnacle (kalas) of the palace, though one hundred and twenty feet above the level of the Chambal, was not visible until within five miles of the bank. The barren [662] tract we passed over is all in Bundi, until we approach Kotah, where the lands of Nanta intervene, the personal domain of the regent Zalim Singh, and the only territory belonging to Kotah west of the Chambal. Karipura, as well as all this region, is inhabited by Bhils, of which race a very intelligent individual acted this morning as our guide. He says it is called by them Baba ka nund, and that they were the sovereigns of it until dispossessed by the Rajputs. We may credit them, for it is only fit for Bhils or their brethren of the forest, the wildbeasts. But I rejoiced at having seen it, though I have no wish to retrace my steps over this part of my journey. Half-way, we passed a roofless shed of loose stones, containing the divinity of the Bhils; it is in the midst of a grove of thorny tangled brushwood, whose boughs were here and there decorated with shreds of various coloured cloth, offerings of the traveller to the forest divinity for protection against evil spirits, by which I suppose the Bhils themselves are meant.[[16]]
Maypoles.
Kotah City.
[1]. [About 120 miles E.N.E. from Udaipur city.]
[3]. [Rāwat, Rājaputra, ‘King’s son.’]
[4]. [In the Indore State, 9 miles S.W. of Mhow cantonment (IGI, x. 134).]
[5]. [By another tradition, Bhainsa Sāh was a merchant, servant of the Chauhān kings of Sāmbhar and Ajmer (Erskine ii. A. 96).]
[6]. [The “cradle of the Rāthors,” now in Mallāni.]
[7]. [The ‘cleft or fissure of the Rāni.’]
[8]. [The feudal levy.]
[9]. [About 70 miles N.E. of Udaipur city.]
[10]. [A criminal tribe, known in the Panjāb as Bāwaria, and as Moghias in Mārwār (Census Report, Mārwār, 1891, ii. 190 f.).]
[11]. [The ‘annual knot.’ The custom still prevails among Indian Muhammadans, and the mother of the Mughal Emperor used to keep a string in the harem, and added a knot, probably as a magical protective, for every year of her son’s life. The custom of using in this way a thread of red or yellow silk was adopted by the Rājputs (Āīn, i. 267; Jaffur Shurreef, Qanoon-e-Islam, 26; Manucci ii. 346).]
[12]. [The usual form is: Bher bakrī ek ghāt pītē hain, ‘The wolf and the goat drink at the same river steps.’]
[13]. [This is the reading by Dr. Tessitori, who remarks: “The above, of course, is Sanskrit.”]
[14]. [Imli, Tamarindus indica; semal, Bombax heptaphyllum; sākhu or sagwān, the teak, Tectona grandis; tendu, Diospyrus embryopteris; dhao, Anogeissus latifolia.]
[15]. [Pāliya, ‘a protective, guardian,’ or ‘home of the guardian spirit’; often erected to Rājputs or others dying on the field of battle. At the Kāli Chaudas festival, 14th dark half of Āsho, these stones are daubed with red lead, and coco-nuts are offered (Enthoven, Folklore Notes, Gujarāt, 90; BG, ix. Part I. 218, 363 f.; Forbes, Rāsmāla, 691).]
[16]. The same practice is described by Park as existing in Africa. [Such trees are known in Gujarāt as ‘Rag Uncle’ (Forbes, Rāsmāla, 452). On rag-trees see E. S. Hartland, Legend of Perseus, ii. 175 ff.; W. Crooke, Popular Religion and Folklore of N. India, 2nd ed. i. 161 ff.]