After this specimen of eloquence, literally translated from the Hindostanee in which it was spoken, the dāndees gladly wrapped their blankets round them, and crept into corners out of the wind, to eat chabenī, the parched grain of Indian corn, maize. Could you but see the men whom I term my children! they are just what in my youth I ever pictured to myself cannibals must be: so wild and strange-looking, their long, black, shaggy hair matted over their heads, and hanging down to their shoulders; their bodies of dark brown, entirely naked, with the exception of a cloth round the waist, which passes between the limbs. They jump overboard, and swim ashore with a rope between their teeth, and their towing-stick in one hand, just like dogs,—river dogs; the water is their element more than the land. If they want any clothes on shore they carry them on the top of their heads, and swim to the bank in that fashion. The mem sāhiba’s river dogs; they do not drink strong waters; and when I wish to delight them very much, I give them two or three rupees’ worth of sweetmeats, cakes of sugar and ghee made in the bazār; like great babies, they are charmed with their meetai, as they call it, and work away willingly for a mem sāhiba who makes presents of sweetmeats and kids.
Saw the first wolf to-day; I wish we were at Etaweh,—to anchor here is detestable: if we were there I should be reading my letters, and getting in supplies for Agra. How I long to reach the goal of my pilgrimage, and to make my salām to the “Tāj beebee ke rauza,” the mausoleum of the lady of the Tāj!
CHAPTER XXIX.
PILGRIMAGE TO THE TĀJ.
“HE WHO HAS NOT PATIENCE POSSESSES NOT PHILOSOPHY[125].”
“Whether doing, suffering, or forbearing,
You may do miracles by persevering.”
Etaweh—Moonlight Ride—The Wolves—Bird-catchers—Peacocks—The Bar of Sand—The Good Luck of the Mem Sāhiba—Narangee Ghāt—Betaizor—The Silk-cotton Tree—Fields of the Cotton Plant—The Chakwā Chukwaee—Eloquence of a Dhobee—Aladīnpoor—Noon, or Loon—Modelling in Khuree—Cotton Boats—The Ulāk—Vessels on the River—Plantations of the Castor Oil Plant—Cutting through a Sandbank—First Sight of the Tāj—Porcupines—Bissowna—Quitted the Pinnace—Arrival at Agra.
1835, Jan. 10th.—Ours is the slowest possible progress; the wind seems engaged to meet us at every turn of our route. At 3 P.M. we lugāoed at Etaweh; while I was admiring the ghāts, to my great delight, a handful of letters and parcels of many kinds were brought to me. In the evening, the chaprāsī in charge of my riding horses, with the sā’īses and grass-cutters who had marched from Allahabad to meet me, arrived at the ghāt. The grey neighed furiously, as if in welcome; how glad I was to see them!
In a minute I was on the little black horse; away we went, the black so glad to have a canter, the mem sāhiba so happy to give him one: through deep ravines, over a road through the dry bed of a torrent, up steep cliffs; away we went like creatures possessed; the horse and rider were a happy pair. After a canter of about four miles it became dark, or rather moonlight, and I turned my horse towards the river, guided by the sight of a great cliff, some 150 or 200 feet high, beneath which we had anchored. I lost my way, but turned down a bridle road in the bed of a ravine, which of course led somewhere to the river. I rode under a cliff so high and overhanging, I felt afraid to speak; at last we got out of the cold and dark ravine, and came directly upon the pinnace. I had met, during my ride, two gentlemen in a buggy; one of them, after having arrived at his own house, returned to look for me, thinking I might turn down by mistake the very road I had gone, which at night was very unsafe, on account of the wolves; but he did not overtake me.