The Akhtîj.
The respect paid to ploughing is illustrated by the early Vedic legend of Sîtâ, who, like the Etruscan Tago, sprung from a furrow.[2] It is only in a later development of the story that she becomes the daughter of Janaka, and wife of Râma Chandra.
The agricultural year in Northern India begins with the ceremony of the Akhtîj, “the undecaying third,” which is celebrated on the third day of the light fortnight in the month of Baisâkh, or May. In the North-Western Provinces the cultivator first fees his Pandit to select an auspicious hour on that day for the commencement of ploughing. In most places he does not begin till 3 p.m.; in Mirzapur the time fixed is usually during the night, as secrecy is in most of these rural ceremonies an important part of the ritual.
In Rohilkhand the cultivator goes at daybreak to one of his fields, which must be of a square or oblong shape. He takes with him a brass drinking vessel of water, a branch of the Mango tree, both of which are, as we have seen, efficacious in scaring spirits, and a spade. The object of the rite is to propitiate Prithivî, “the broad world,” as contrasted with Dhartî Mâî, or “Mother Earth,” and Sesha Nâga, the great snake which supports the world. Whenever Sesha yawns he causes an earthquake.
The Pandit first makes certain observations by which he is able to determine in which direction the snake happens at the time to be lying, because, in order to ease himself of his burden, he moves about beneath the world, and lies, sometimes north and south, north-west and south-east, and so on. This imaginary line having been marked off, the peasant digs up five clods of earth with his spade. This is a lucky number, as it is a quarter more than four. Hence Sawâi, or one and a quarter, has been taken as one of the titles of the Mahârâja of Jaypur. He then sprinkles water five times into the trench with the branch of the sacred mango. The object of this is by a form of sympathetic magic to ensure the productiveness of the crop, and scare the demons of evil which would injure it. In Bombay, at the beginning of the sowing season, a cocoanut is broken and thrown at each side of the plough, so that the soil spirits may leave and make room for Lakshmî, the goddess of prosperity, who is represented by the plough.[3] During all these proceedings the peasant watches the omens most carefully, and if anything inauspicious happens, the ceremony must be discontinued and recommenced at a luckier hour later on in the day. When he gets home, some woman of the family, who must not be a widow, who is naturally considered unlucky, presents him with curds and silver for good luck. He then stays all day in the house, rests, and does no work, and does not even go to sleep. He avoids quarrels and disputes of all kinds, and on that day will give neither grain nor money, nor fire to any one.[4] Next day he eats sweet food and balls of wheaten flour, toasted with curds and sugar, but carefully abstains from salt.
These usages have parallels in the customs of other lands. Thus, the rule against giving fire on the sowing day prevailed in Rome, and is still observed in the rural parts of England. In Iceland and the Isle of Man it is believed that fire and salt are the most sacred things given to man, and if you give them away on May Day you give away your luck for the year; no one will give fire from a house while an unbaptized baby is in it.[5]
In Râjputâna the custom is less elaborate. The first day of ploughing after the rains begin is known as the Halsotiya festival. Omens being favourable, the villagers proceed to the fields, each household carrying a new earthen pot, coloured with turmeric, the virtues of which have been already explained, and full of Bâjra millet. Looking to the north, the home of the gods, they make an obeisance to the earth, and then a selected man ploughs five furrows. The ploughman’s hands and the bullock’s hoofs are rubbed with henna, and the former receives a dinner of delicacies.[6]
In Mirzapur, only the northern part of the field, that facing the Himâlaya is dug up in five places with a piece of mango wood. The peasant, when he goes home, eats rich food, and abstains from quarrels.
All over the country the people seem to be becoming less careful about these observances. Some, without consulting a Pandit at all, go early to the field on the morning after the Holî fire is lighted, scratch the ground with a ploughshare, and on their return eat cakes and sweetmeats. Others, on the first day after the Holî, when they hear the voice of the Koil, or Indian cuckoo at twilight, go in silence to the field and make a few scratches.[7]
Among the Drâvidian Hill tribes of Mirzapur, the ceremony seems to be merely a formal propitiation of the village godlings. Among the Korwas, before ploughing commences, the Baiga makes an offering of butter and molasses in his own field. This he burns in the name of the village godlings, and does a special sacrifice at their shrine. After this ploughing commences. The Kharwârs, before sowing, take five handfuls of grain from the sowing basket, and pray to Dhartî Mâtâ, the earth goddess, to be propitious. They keep the grain, grind it, and offer it at her annual festival in the month of Sâwan or August. The Pankas only do a burnt offering through the Baiga, and offer up cakes and other food, known as Nêuj. Before the spring sowing, a general offering of five cocks is made to the village godlings by the Baiga, who consumes the sacrifice himself. All these people do not commence agricultural work till the Baiga starts work in his own field, and they prefer to do this on Monday.
In Hoshangâbâd the ceremony is somewhat different. The ploughing is usually begun by the landlord, and all the cultivators collect and assist at the ceremony in his field before they go on to their own. “It is the custom for him to take a rupee and fasten it up in the leaf of the Palâsa tree with a thorn. He also folds up several empty leaves in the same way and covers them all with a heap of leaves. When he has done worship to the plough and bullocks, he yokes them and drives them through the heap, and all the cultivators then scramble for the leaf which contains the rupee. They then each plough their fields a little, and returning in a body, they are met by the daughter or sister of the landlord, who comes out to meet them with a brass vessel full of water, a light in one hand and the wheaten cakes in the other. The landlord and each of the cultivators of his caste put a rupee into her water vessel and take a bit of the cake, which they put on their heads. On the same day an earthen jar full of water is taken by each cultivator to his threshing-floor, and placed to stand on four lumps of earth, each of which bears the name of one of the four months of the rainy season. Next morning as many lumps as are wetted by the leaking of the water jar (which is very porous and always leaks), so many months of rain will there be, and the cultivator makes his arrangements for the sowing accordingly.”[8]
In the Himâlaya, again, there is a different ritual: “On the day fixed for the commencement of ploughing the ceremony known as Kudkhyo and Halkhyo takes place. The Kudkhyo takes place in the morning or evening, and begins by lighting a lamp before the household deity and offering rice, flowers, and balls made of turmeric, borax, and lemon juice. The conch is then sounded, and the owner of the field or relative whose lucky day it is, takes three or four pounds of seed-grain from a basin and carries it to the edge of the field prepared for its reception. He then scrapes a portion of the earth with a mattock, and sows a part of the seed. One to five lamps are placed on the ground, and the surplus seed is given away. At the Halkhyo ceremony, the balls as above described are placed on the ploughman, plough, and plough cattle; four or five furrows are ploughed and sown, and the farm servants are fed.”[9] This custom of giving away what remains of the seed-grain to labourers and beggars prevails generally throughout Northern India.
A curious rite is performed in Kulu at the rice planting. “Each family in turn keeps open house. The neighbours, men and women, collect at the rice-fields. As soon as a field is ready, the women enter it in line, each with a bundle of young rice in her hands, and advance dabbing the young plants into the slush as they go. The mistress of the house and her daughters, dressed in their gayest, take their stand in front of the line, and supply more bundles of plants as they are wanted. The women sing in chorus as they work; impromptu verses are often put in, which occasion a great deal of laughter. Two or three musicians are generally entertained by the master of the house, who also supplies food and drink of his best for the whole party. The day’s work often ends with a tremendous romp, in which every one throws mud at his neighbours, or tries to give him or her a roll in it. No such ceremony is observed in sowing other crops, rice having been formerly, in all probability, the most important crop. It is also the custom to make a rude image of a man in dough and to throw it away as a sacrifice to the Ishta Deotâ or household deity.”[10] This can hardly be anything but a survival of an actual sacrifice to appease the field godlings at sowing time. The rude horseplay which goes on is like that at the Saturnalia and on the English Plough Monday.
Going on to the Drâvidian races, the Mundas have a feast in May at the time of sowing for the first rice crop. “It is held in honour of the ancestral shades and other spirits, who, if unpropitiated, would prevent the seed from germinating. A he-goat and a cock are sacrificed.” Again in June they have a festival to propitiate the local gods, that they may bless the crops. “In the Mundâri villages everyone plants a branch of the Bel tree in his land, and contributes to the general offering, which is made by the priest in the sacred grove, a fowl, a pitcher of beer, and a handful of rice.” In July, again, each cultivator sacrifices a fowl, and after some mysterious rites, a wing is stripped off and inserted in a cleft of a bamboo, and stuck up in the rice-field or dung-heap. If this is omitted, the rice crop, it is supposed, will not come to maturity. It appears more like a charm than a sacrifice. Among the Kols of Chota Nâgpur, there is a special dance, “the women follow the men and change their attitudes and positions in obedience to signals from them.” In one special figure “the women all kneel and pat the ground with their hands, in tune of music, as if coaxing the earth to be fertile.”[11]