“One of this class,” says Abul Fazil,[25] “can steal away the liver of another by looks and incantations. Other accounts say, that by looking at a person he deprives him of his senses, and then steals from him something resembling the seed of a pomegranate, which he hides in the calf of his leg. The jiggerkhar throws on the fire the grain, which thereupon spreads to the size of a dish, and he distributes it amongst his fellows to be eaten, which ceremony concludes the life of the fascinated person. A jiggerkhar is able to communicate his art to another, which he does by teaching him the incantations, and making him eat a bit of the liver-cake. If any one cut open the calf of the magician’s leg, extract the grain, and give it to the afflicted person to eat, he immediately recovers. These jiggerkhars are mostly women. It is said, moreover, that they can bring intelligence from a great distance in a short space of time, and, if they are thrown into a river with a stone tied to them, they neverless will not sink. In order to deprive any one of this wicked power, they brand his temples and every joint in his body, cram his eyes with salt, suspend him for forty days in a subterraneous cavern, and repeat over him certain incantations. In this state he is called Datchereh. Although, after having undergone this discipline, he is not able to destroy the liver of any one, yet he retains the power of being able to discover another jiggerkhar, and is used for detecting those disturbers of mankind. They can also cure many diseases, by administering a potion, or by repeating an incantation. Many other marvellous stories are told of these people.”
Yhahil had heard many things related of the extraordinary woman already mentioned, though she had never seen her. Impelled by an unconquerable impulse, she determined to visit her. The woman was reputed to possess a singular faculty in tracing human destinies, and was said to have foretold events which had taken place after a considerable interval of time. It was likewise reported, that some of her practices were of a less innocent character. The death of more than one person had been attributed to her, and yet she was held in such awe that no one dared to molest her. When a violent hurricane ravaged the land, it was declared to be of her producing. When famine spread devastation over the country, it was attributed to the jiggerkhar, and not a serious casualty happened, but the blame was attached to her. She was, therefore, shunned and dreaded by the whole country around.
One day about noon Yhahil sought the abode of this prophetess. It was a deep cavern, near the base of a hill. No human habitation was near. Situated on the north side, the beams of the sun were excluded from it. At the entrance were scattered several large fragments of rock, as if casually flung there by some violent convulsion of nature. Not a shrub or particle of verdure was visible within at least fifty yards of the cavern. Lizards crawled about the stones, and snakes were occasionally seen to glide for a moment from their rocky retreats, and retire at the sound of human footsteps. The whole place had an aspect of desolation, perfectly concurring with the life and character of the unnatural being who inhabited the cave. For years the place had been trodden by no foot save her own. Yhahil, with a trembling step, approached the den of the prophetic hag. The old woman was seated on a fragment of rock which lay just in front of her dreary dwelling. On her lap was a Pariah dog, blind with age and disfigured with mange. As the lovely girl approached, the squalid brute raised its head, and commenced a shrill continuous howl, and, when it had finished, began licking its mistress’s face with disgusting familiarity. Having finished this canine caress, it resumed its howl in a still louder key.
Yhahil undauntedly approached, but, on a nearer scrutiny, was for an instant repelled at the sight of the object whom she had come to consult upon the events of the future. Never was anything akin to humanity so perfectly hideous. She might have been taken for any age above a hundred years. She seemed almost to have lived from eternity. Her whole aspect was so essentially old, that every mark which in age so frequently conveys an association with youth was entirely obliterated. She appeared the withered consort of old Time, with whom one might have imagined she had travelled through all the cycles of duration. Every feature of her face was frightful. Her hair, matted and grizzled, fell upon her shrivelled shoulders in long thin wisps, like the dull wiry grass which occasionally hangs from the crest of the sun-scorched rock. Her forehead appeared as if it had been crimped. The wrinkles were so near together, that a needle’s point could scarcely have been inserted between them. The skin clung so close to her cheek-bones as to develop the grim anatomy of her visage with a minuteness almost appalling. Nose she had none, but the slight indication of it which remained showed that such a member had once a “local habitation” upon her now revolting countenance. Her eyes were so deeply sunk into her head, and the lids approximated so closely, that the dim lurid orbs were scarcely discernible.
When Yhahil reached the spot where the jiggerkhar was sitting, she flung a gold mohur[26] into her lap, saying, “I seek a boon, mother.”
“Thou shalt have it, maiden,” said the hag; “thou knowest how to solicit a boon. Silence Parvati,” she said to the dog, which was again beginning to howl, “canst thou not distinguish the voice of a friend—peace, churl! What wouldst thou?”
“I would know of the future, mother, into which thy dim eye can pierce with the clearness of a star. I stand upon this world as upon a pinnacle in the midst of a blasted wilderness, whence I can behold nothing but sterility beneath, and vague unfathomable distance above.”
“Those who would know of the future, child, must buy the knowledge at a heavier cost than a meal of rice.”
Yhahil threw another gold mohur in the sybil’s lap.
“You are a liberal probationer, and deserve a good reckoning in this life, and a happy change in the better. Follow me, and you shall know more.” Saying this she entered the cavern, and the dog limped after her. The entrance was so narrow as to admit only one person at a time. Yhahil followed the old woman undauntedly, but when she stood within the cave her heart sickened. It was so dark that, three yards beyond the entrance, all was involved in impenetrable gloom. The pythoness was no longer visible, but her hoarse cracked voice was audible through the intense darkness of the cell, the rugged sides of which reverberated it with so terrible an echo, that the terrified girl started, sickened, and would have fallen; but drawing a deep sigh she brushed the gathering dews from her forehead, and in another moment had braced her mind to the necessary pitch of high resolve that defied all future suggestions of terror.