In character they are sensitive on points of honor among themselves, but desperate foes, revenging themselves, sometimes years after, for any grievance perpetrated against one of their tribe. I remember an incident related to me by my mother which is characteristic of the Bhil freebooters and robbers. My stepfather was appointed to survey the public road newly opened from Cambay to the confines of the great and then almost unknown province of Guzerat. She had decided to accompany him on his long and hazardous journey. Having acquired a fair knowledge of the Guzerati language, she proved, as he had hoped, an invaluable aid in settling disputes about payments of money for work done, and in directing and instructing such of the Bhils, Khands, and other tribes as were employed on the roads. Furnished with a sepoy guard and a large amount of government money to defray the expenses of the road repairs, they travelled for some time unmolested through the strange country. On one occasion, however, they had pitched their tents in the village of Balmere, and had retired for the night. My stepfather, fatigued with a hard day's ride over the roads, slept soundly. The guards patrolled the little encampment, which consisted of three tents, two for the servants and sepoys on duty, and the other, a double-poled tent, consisting of two rooms with a double wall of canvas around it, for the family. The tumbril which conveyed the government money from place to place stood in the corner of the room, near the cot on which my mother slept. My stepfather occupied the adjoining room. A small lamp stood burning on the tumbril, and the key had been carelessly left in the treasure-box.
About midnight my mother was suddenly aroused by a slight shuffling noise. She raised her head, and, looking toward the spot whence the sound proceeded, was horrified at seeing the shadows of the nude figures of several men passing between the outer and inner walls of the tent. Presently a gang of Bhil robbers opened the tent-door and stood before her, confronting her, armed with bows and poisoned arrows. There were six men in all, with nothing on their persons but langoutis[34] of straw round their loins, and their bodies highly greased, so as to slip away from the grasp of any person who attempted to seize and hold them.
Divining that their object was to rob the tumbril, the brave lady, without uttering a single cry, sprang to her feet, standing erect and seemingly fearless, and gazed defiantly at them. For a moment or two the foremost robbers seemed to hesitate. Then the one of the gang nearest her addressed her in Guzerati, and said, "Woman, we do not desire to hurt you; we only mean to possess ourselves of what we need, the money in that cart there;" saying which, he attempted to advance toward the tumbril. To scream for help would imperil her own and her husband's life, for these freebooters would at once use their poisoned arrows; but to permit them quietly to rob the government treasury would be almost as fatal, entailing on them endless delay, trouble, and perhaps even unjust suspicion at head-quarters. The intrepid wife suddenly remembered that the Bhils had a superstitious reverence for the person of woman, and before they had time to reach the tumbril she flung herself on her face and hands across their path, and said solemnly in Guzerati, "Only by stepping over a woman's body can you obtain possession of what is entrusted to the care of her husband." There she lay, not daring to utter another word, trembling from head to foot, and anticipating momentary death from their cruel arrows.
Minute after minute passed away, but she still did not dare to open her eyes or even turn her head toward them. After lying there for nearly half an hour, which seemed almost an eternity of agonizing suspense, and unable to endure it any longer, she ventured timidly to glance in the direction of the robbers, and, lo! their places were empty; the tent-door was closed. The Bhil freebooters, hearing this strange being address them in their own language, hurling at them one of their most formidable threats, had vanished as softly as they had entered the tent, vanquished by the presence of mind shown by a delicate woman.
On another occasion the military chaplain at Desa, a British station in Guzerat, was on his way to seek change of air at Mount Aboo. At dusk one evening he found himself surrounded by a gang of Bhil robbers; his travelling-wagon was stopped, his driver took to his heels and fled; his servants too had gone on ahead. Not knowing what to do, he addressed them in Guzerati, and said, "I am not a rich man; I am a poor servant of God, a Christian priest in search of health." Immediately the chief of the gang gave orders that he should not be hurt. They stripped him, however, and divided among themselves whatever they could find. Two of the gang, presenting their short daggers to the poor clergyman, made him march before them in his shirt for some distance. Every time that he turned to remonstrate with the robbers they pricked him slightly with their pointed daggers, till at length he resolved to take no further notice of them. On and on he went. A great darkness had overtaken him; almost fainting from fatigue, he sank to the ground unable to take another step, when, to his surprise, he found that the robbers had departed, leaving him to pursue his way through a wild jungle. He spent an anxious night in the forest, retraced his steps to the village, and by complaining to the headman was at once furnished with a guard and every facility to pursue his journey, the law here being that if robbery or murder is perpetrated in the vicinity of a village, the headman is obliged to make ample restitution; and he has the power to levy a fine on the community to indemnify himself for all the expenses that such acts entail on him as patèl, or governor, of the village. The reverend clergyman always maintained that his escape from death on this occasion was owing to the fact of his being able to address the robbers in their own tongue.
South of the Nerbudda, and in the very heart of the Vindhyan chain, are the Gonds,[35] so called from their habitual nudity—a race of the lowest type, jet-black skin, stunted, thick-lipped, and with small, deep-set eyes. This race is often called by the Hindoos Angorees—i. e. cannibals. They live in miserable huts, surrounded by swine, poultry, buffaloes, and dogs, without any industries, literature, or priesthood, and with few ceremonials of any kind whatever—worshippers of serpents, demons, or anything, in fact, that inspires them with dread, to whom they sometimes sacrifice their children or captives taken in war. Such religious rites as prevail among them are conducted by the aged and honored members of their tribe, both male and female.
Verging on the Gondwana[36] are the hilly provinces of Orissa, inhabited by the Khands, no doubt a tribe slightly in advance in physical type and civilization of their neighbors, the Gonds, the Thugs, and Sourahs. They regard the earth-spirit as in rebellion against the Supreme Deity. To the earth-spirit they direct their prayers, and seek to propitiate her by human sacrifices. Their victims are called "Meriah"[37] by the Oriyahs, and Kudatee by the Khands. These victims must not belong to their tribes nor to the Brahman caste. They are purchased, or more generally kidnapped, from the surrounding districts by persons called Panwhas, who are attached to their villages for these and other peculiar offices. They may be either male or female, and as consecrated persons are treated with great kindness. To the "Meriah" youth or maiden a portion of land is assigned, with farming stock. He or she is also permitted to marry and bear children, who in turn become victims. If a "Meriah" youth form an attachment to the daughter or even wife of a Khand, the relatives indulge him in his wishes, regarding it as an especial favor. These sacrifices take place annually, when the sun is in his highest point in the heavens. The victim is selected by casting of lots. The ceremony lasts three days, and is always attended by a large concourse of people of both sexes. The first day of the approaching sacrifice is spent in feasting, merriment, and prayers, which go hand in hand with wild revelry of all kinds. On the second morning the victim who is to propitiate the earth-goddess is washed, attired in a flowing white robe, and conducted, with music, beating of drums, blowing of horns and rude reed instruments, to the sacred groves preserved for these rites. Here the assembled community implore the earth-goddess Tari (called Pennu by the Shanars and Davee by the Rajpoots, who have in great measure been tainted by their contact with these hill-tribes) to accept the sacrifice about to be offered, and to bless their land with increase of corn, wine, cattle, and so forth. After the offering up of prayer the victim, whether male or female, stands up before the assembly, draws forth his glittering knife, and passes his hand three times over its sharp edge. He then deliberately steps up to the rude altar of Tari, lays down his knife upon it, and, bowing his head, worships the insatiable earth-goddess; then snatching up the knife, he cries, "Drink of my blood and be appeased, O Tari," etc., etc. He waves it aloft three times and plunges it into his side. Leaning toward the earth, which he desires to propitiate in behalf of his fellow-men, he slowly draws out the knife, pours his life-blood out upon her parched and thirsty soil, and expires at the foot of the dreaded altar raised to her name. Honored as no other creature in the land, reared for death, the "Meriah," or doomed one, exults in the performance of this self-sacrifice with a consciousness of being a savior of the country, and has never been known to evade or escape the doom in store for him.
After this horrible sacrifice the human victim is cut into small pieces, and each head of a Khand or Gond family obtains a shred or infinitesimal portion of the body, which he buries in his field to please the spirit of the earth. This is believed to aid not a little in rendering the soil rich and fertile.