“They next caused two tents to be set up at the distance of a bow-shot the one from the other, the doors or entrances being placed exactly opposite. They raised the tent walls all round, and desired that it might be particularly observed they were empty. Then fixing the tent walls in the ground, two men entered, one into each tent. Thus prepared, they said they would undertake to bring out of the tents any animal the company chose to mention, whether bird or beast, and set them in conflict with each other, Jeipal, with a smile of incredulity, required them to exhibit a battle between two ostriches. In a few minutes two ostriches of the largest size issued, one from either tent, and attacked each other with such fury that the blood was seen streaming from their heads. They were at the same time so equally matched, that neither could get the better of the other, and they were therefore separated by the men, and conveyed within the tents. Jaya’s uncle then called for the Neilahgâo, and immediately were seen to issue from their tents two of these untameable animals, equally large, fat, and fierce, which likewise commenced a furious combat, seizing each other by the neck, and alternately forcing one another backwards and forwards for the space of nearly two guhrries of time, after which they were also separated and withdrawn into the tents. In short, they continued to produce from either tent whatever animal the company chose to name, and before their eyes set them to fight in the manner above described.”[16]
When the jugglers had withdrawn, the guests commenced the more substantial enjoyments of the table. Jeipal and Jaya marked where their respective dishes were placed, towards which they were finally conducted by a sort of master of the ceremonies. During the first bustle, Jeipal contrived to remove his own dish, and substitute that of Jaya’s uncle before the latter had taken his station. The confusion was so great, caused by the various movements of such a number of persons, that the change of dishes was a matter of no great difficulty.
Jeipal began to eat of the mess before him in order to give encouragement to his wife’s relation, who was placed by his side. The latter unsuspiciously ate of the poisoned food, and in a very short time had consumed the whole contents of the fatal dish. Jeipal, meanwhile, was not backward, but followed the example of Jaya’s uncle, and soon saw the bottom of his platter. Jaya had not tasted hers, which being remarked by her aunt, the latter pressed her with extreme urgency to eat, but her solicitations being firmly resisted, she expressed great anger. “Is it thus you serve your guests, to refuse partaking of your own wedding banquet, as if you were not willing that they should enjoy it, or begrudged what has been provided?”
“I don’t like the appearance of this dish,” said Jaya calmly; “it has an unnatural smell, too. In short, I shall not taste it.”
“It was prepared on purpose for you, and of those very ingredients of which you have always expressed yourself so fond.”
“I know it has been prepared for me, and therefore decline it; but to show you how little selfish I am in partaking of anything especially prepared for me, I resign it to you with the greatest cheerfulness—pray eat it, and I shall be much better satisfied than taking the indulgence myself.”
The woman shrank back with a consciousness that she had been detected. In a short time the poison began to operate upon her husband. His cheeks became blanched, his lips closed with a convulsive compression, his whole body stiffened, and he fell upon the floor. The poison was of so potent a nature, that within a few minutes he was a corpse. Considerable confusion prevailed; the body was removed; but such is the characteristic apathy of the Hindoo, that the banquet was concluded without further interruption. No inquiry was made as to the cause of the man’s death. It was looked upon as a sudden visitation for some secret crime. No pity was expressed for the sufferer, but for one it was an event to be deeply deplored. The wife had the awful prospect of expiring amid the flames upon the body of her deceased husband.
The guests separated, and this wretched woman was left to the dreadful companionship of her own fierce repinings. On the morrow her husband was to be consumed upon the pile amid the flames of which she would be doomed to expire. It was a fearful thought. She was not prepared to die, and the very idea of death was at once a dread and an agony.
The day of sacrifice dawned. The noisy tomtoms and harsh brazen trumpets warned her of the solemn obligation which she was called upon to fulfil. The shouts of thousands of mad enthusiasts rent the air; but she was reluctant to answer their acclamations by exhibiting herself as a willing oblation. The Brahmins, perceiving her fears, administered opium in such quantities that she soon became stupefied; still, nothing could remove her extreme horror of death.
The opium at length took such an effect upon her, that she scarcely knew what she did, and was finally induced to accompany the Brahmins to the pile. The sight of it renewed her terrors. After a while the effects of the opiate had somewhat subsided, and when within the area in which the fatal pyre had been reared, she positively refused to ascend it; but it was now too late—she had gone too far to retract. The Brahmins surrounded her—the tomtoms began their din, the trumpets their clamour, and she was forced upon the fatal platform. Fire was instantly applied. She raised herself amid the flames, but was forced back by the officiating Brahmins with long bamboos. Her hair streamed upon the breeze—her arms were a moment raised with the violent action of agony—her eyes almost started from their sockets—but the flames rose higher and fiercer. Being struck in the temple with a bamboo, she fell backward into the devouring element, and was no more seen.