I think the number of people collected at this fair appears greater than the number I ever saw collected at Prāg; the cliff for miles was covered with a countless multitude. Perhaps the people were more conspicuous on the cliffs than on the flat sands at the Tribeni. A number of respectable-looking Hindoo women were in boats covered with an awning. This large native village of Bulleah is seventy-four miles above Dinapūr, on the left bank: it is a dārogah station, noted for the fair annually held there, as also for a grain mart.
This is the most dangerous part of the Ganges for quicksands and shifting banks: the stream is very strong, boats being sometimes detained from four to six weeks, waiting for water and a favourable breeze. The people carry away the Ganges water from this place in sealed bottles, as they do from Prāg, and sell it in distant parts of the country at a high price. We had a hard day’s work tracking amidst the sandbanks against a rapid stream, and did not anchor until the sun had set for an hour and a half, and the full moon was high. I was very glad to see the moon; we were in a dilemma on a bad spot in the river; however, after much labour we got off, and lugāoed on a comfortable sandbank. A large vessel belonging to a Mirzapūr merchant was wrecked here a month ago; I visited the wreck,—they have recovered all but fourteen bales of linen, which they are digging out,—they lie twelve feet under the sand. In the evening the manjhī of my boat was preparing a bamboo to use for pushing the budgerow onwards; I measured it as it lay on the ground; it was sixty feet in length, and most beautifully tapered; he said he had some spare ones on board much longer; for nine of these bamboos he only paid one rupee, and he bought them at the spot where the Bhagirathī branches off from the Ganges. At Prāg such a bamboo would have cost eight ānās. A chaukidār has erected a hut close to the wreck with her fragments; there he and his people keep guard over her; in front is an image of Mahadēo, made in mud, and ornamented with fresh green plantain trees stuck into the sand around the idol.
26th.—Anchored early at Buxar, just under the fort. When walking to see the fort I was attracted to the left by the beauty of a most remarkably fine old peepul-tree, which overshadows a temple dedicated to Mahadēo, whose image is within the building; on the outer wall is an image of Hūnūmān. The temple is beautifully overshadowed, and the stems of the peepul-tree—for it is divided into many—are old and picturesque, and the smallness of the leaves denotes the antiquity of the tree. On the bank of the river there is also an old peepul-tree,—its long branching roots are exposed to view, the river having laid them bare by washing away the bank. Buxar on the right, and Kuruntadee on the left bank, are eighty-eight miles above Dinapūr, and are noted as being the Honourable Company’s stud establishment: there is a small fort here where the battle was fought.
27th.—Quitted Buxar early, and were forced to anchor for a time at Chounsah Beerboom, on account of a very heavy wind, which made old Gunga rise in waves, and rocked the budgerow like a sea: started at 4 P.M. and arrived at the Kurum-nassa river; it is a shallow, melancholy-looking, small stream, with nothing to be seen on its banks but fishermen’s nets. Hilsā fish are here caught in great numbers, and the rahū also; I purchased one of the latter, and some quail, which were twenty-five per rupee.
Lugāoed at Barrah, a small village on the right bank: climbed the cliff in the evening; a fisherman who resided there showed me two satī mounds on the top of it,—the one built of stone sacred to a Brahmān, the other of mud in honour of a Kyiatt. A kalsā is the ornament on the top of a dome; there were two of stone, without any points on the satī mound of the Brahmān; and two of mud, decorated with points, and one small image, on that of the Kyiatt[48].
I gave a small present to the people, and took away one of the kalsās of mud as a curiosity: a number of broken idols in black stone had been dug up, and placed on the satī mound of the Brahmān,—I was anxious to have two of them, and determined to ask the fisherman to give them to me. The old man told me with great pride that one of his family had been a satī, and that the Brahmāns complained greatly they were not allowed to burn the widows, as such disconsolate damsels were ready and willing to be grilled; he told me that a great number of mounds are on the left bank of the river, just opposite at Beerpūr, and that there are several about two miles higher up the stream.
The Brahmānī ducks are calling to one another from the opposite banks of the river,—there must be several pairs of them from the ā’o! ā’o! that I hear; this is only the second time during this voyage that I have heard the chakwā. The wind is down, there is a soft and brilliant moonlight,—the weather is really charming, and the moonlight nights delicious; from the high bank by the satīs one can see the stream of the Ganges below, glittering in its beams.
“Eight miles above Buxar, on the right bank of the river, is the junction of the Kurum-nassa: the touch of its waters is considered as one of the direst mishaps that can happen to a Hindū, as it is said it debars him admittance into heaven. There is a bridge over it, built by a Rajah; this part of the country is noted for decoits.” The bridge, which is some distance up the river, is not visible from the junction.
Ten P.M.; I have just returned from the satī mound, accompanied by the old fisherman, who brought with him two of the idols of black stone from the Brahmān’s mound, on which there were about twenty; the old man gave them to me the moment I asked for them; I gave him a present afterwards, therefore he did not sell his gods; but he requested to be allowed to bring them to the boats during the darkness of the night. He and his family are now the sole inhabitants of a little hamlet of five houses, which was formerly inhabited by himself and his four brothers; they are dead, and their houses, which are in ruins, are close to the mounds; the old man lives in the centre, with one young son and two daughters, and keeps his dwelling of mud in comfortable condition. They tell me fowls and chakor (the red-legged partridge) are abundant there; I was unable to procure the latter.
29th.—Stopped the budgerow for a few minutes off the ruins of the palace of the Nawāb of Ghazipūr. The fort-like bastions rise from the Ganges, and the palace is built above; the ghāt is of stone, wide and good: this ruined palace has been before described in this volume, [page 66]. The native town of Ghazipūr is full of picturesque beauty; the mut’hs are numerous, but their architectural beauty is disfigured by whitewash and edges of dark red paint. There is a gigantic image in mud smeared with paint, which lies upon its back close to the water’s edge, and has a curious effect: a little further on an old well has fallen into the river, on account of the high cliff within which it was sunk having been washed away; the cliff, which is of sand, and very high, is covered with native houses, small temples, and trees, from the top to the bottom.