Hindu Magic: An Expose of the Tricks of the Yogis and Fakirs of India

by Hereward Carrington

I shall begin by describing the famous mango-tree trick—perhaps the best known of all the feats performed by the Indian conjuror. I shall first of all describe the performance as it would appear to the uninitiated witness, afterwards explaining the secret.

As the trick is usually exhibited, it is somewhat as follows: The native comes forward, almost nude, being covered only with a small loin cloth, of such small compass that the onlooker can see clearly that there is nothing hidden in or about it or the performer. As the trick (like almost all Indian tricks) is performed in any locality—on the deck of a ship, in one’s own room, etc.—all idea of pre-arrangement, trap-doors, etc., is precluded. The performer advances, carrying in his hands a little earthen or tin pot containing water, and another containing a quart or so of dry sand. He also has with him some seeds of the mango-tree, and a large cloth, about four feet square. This is shaken out and both sides are shown to the spectators, so that they may see that nothing is concealed within it.

All this having been gone through, the fakir proceeds to build up a little mud pile of his earth and water, mixing the two together with his fingers, and dexterously moulding them into a pyramid of muddy earth. This may be done in some previously examined vessel, or on the bare earth or floor. The mango-seed is now inserted in the soil, and covered on all sides with earth. The fakir then covers the mound of earth with the shawl or large handkerchief, and places his hands and arms under the shawl, manipulating the seed and the earth for some time; placing his hands over the seed; making passes above the seed, etc. As his hands and arms are bare, and can be seen bare throughout this process of manipulation, and as his hands never once approach his body, no one has any objection to his handling the seed and the earth in this manner, or to his placing his hands beneath the cloth. After a few minutes of this manipulation, the conjuror withdraws his hands, and proceeds to make passes over the cloth and above it, at the same time muttering semi-articulate incantations, etc. Sometimes a tom-tom is beaten, or other instrument is played upon, and, after a while, the conjuror removes the cloth, and the seed is seen to have sprouted—a couple of tiny leaves appearing above the surface of the earth. If the onlooker is especially skeptical, the fakir sometimes removes the seed, and shows the skeptic a couple of minute roots, sprouting from the lower end of it. It (the seed) is then replaced in the earth, the manipulations and incantations repeated, and, after a while, the fakir removes the cloth a second time, and the mango is seen to have sprouted still more—now being several inches in height. This process is repeated five or six times, or even more, at the end of which time the mango-tree is two feet or more in height. It is even asserted that, in some cases, the tree has been known to bear fruit.

So much for the effect of the trick. Now for the explanation.

There are numerous ways of performing this mango-tree trick—for trick it is.

In the first place, it will be noticed that it is always a mango-tree that is made to grow, and no other shrub. Now, why is this? Surely it is not because the mango is the only tree in India which is ready to the hand of the fakir, for we know that there are numerous others that might be made to grow. And yet it is always the mango! The conjuror, S.S. Baldwin (from whose book, Secrets of Mahatma Land Explained, I shall have occasion to quote later on), asked a native conjuror if he would make a young palm, a tea plant or a banana tree, grow for him, and received the response: “Nay, sahib, cannot do. Mango-tree the only one can make.” I repeat, why is this?

The reason is that it is the peculiar construction of the mango leaf that renders the trick, as presented, possible at all. The leaf and twigs of the mango-tree are exceedingly tough and pliable, almost like leather, and can be folded or compressed into a very small space without breaking the stems and the leaves, and, when this pressure is released, the leaves will resume their former expanded condition very rapidly, without showing any traces of the folding process. The leaves can be turned upon themselves and rolled into a tight ball, in which folded condition they occupy very little space, and yet will resume their extended condition when this pressure is released. And this brings me to the heart of my explanation.

The mango seed that is placed in the mound of earth is especially prepared before the performance, by the fakir, in the following manner: He splits the seed open, scoops out its contents, dries it somewhat, then places within it a shoot of a mango-tree folded and compressed so as to fit into the mango seed. It must be remembered that the mango seed is no small thing, but is about two inches long (sometimes more) by an inch to an inch and a half broad. It resembles slightly the mussel shell found on the seashore. It will be obvious that a seed of this size might contain a good deal of material, and if the mango leaves were folded into a small compass, would hold a good-sized twig. The leaves are folded very carefully, and are prepared in a special manner. The upper surface of the leaf must be folded on itself, and that surface, skillfully treated and watered, will scarcely show a crease on a superficial examination. The creasing which the under surface would show is, of course, concealed from the spectator’s view.