“Who asks woman for advice? The world deems their understanding shallow; even when truths issue from their lips, none listen thereto. Yet what is the world without woman? We have the forms of Sakti[[48]] with the fire of Siva; we are at once thieves and sanctuaries; we are vessels of virtue and of vice—of knowledge and of ignorance. The man of wisdom, the astrologer, can from the books calculate the motion and course of the planets; but in the book of woman he is ignorant: and this is not a saying of to-day, it ever has been so: our book has not been mastered, therefore, to hide their ignorance, they say, in woman there is no wisdom! Yet woman shares your joys and your sorrows. Even when you depart from the mansion of the sun, we part not. Hunger and thirst we cheerfully partake with you; we are as the lakes, of which you are the swans; what are when absent from our bosoms?”
The army having assembled, and all being prepared to march against the Islamite, in the last great battle which subjugated India, the fair Sanjogta armed her lord for the encounter. In[In] vain she sought the rings of his corslet; her eyes were [625] fixed on the face of the Chauhan, as those of the famished wretch who finds a piece of gold. The sound of the drum reached the ear of the Chauhan; it was as a death-knell on that of Sanjogta: and as he left her to head Delhi’s heroes, she vowed that henceforward water only should sustain her. “I shall see him again in the region of Surya, but never more in Yoginipur.”[[49]] Her prediction was fulfilled: her lord was routed, made captive and slain; and, faithful to her vow, she mounted the funeral pyre.
The Queen of Ganor.
Ceremonials, on a scale of magnificence equal to the shortness of the time, were going on. The song of joy had already stifled the discordant voice of war, and at length the Khan was summoned to the terrace. Robed in the marriage garb presented to him by the queen, with a necklace and aigrette of superb jewels from the coffers of Ganor, he hastened to obey the mandate, and found that fame had not done justice to her charms. He was desired to be seated, and in conversation full of rapture on his side, hours were as minutes while he gazed on the beauty of the queen. But presently his countenance fell—he complained of heat; punkas and water were brought, but they availed him not, and he began to tear the bridal garments from his frame, when the queen thus addressed him [626]: “Know, Khan, that your last hour is come; our wedding and our death shall be sealed together. The vestments which cover you are poisoned; you had left me no other expedient to escape pollution.” While all were horror-struck by this declaration, she sprung from the battlements into the flood beneath. The Khan died in extreme torture, and was buried on the road to Bhopal; and, strange to say, a visit to his grave has the reputation of curing the tertian of that country.[[51]]
Rāja Jai Singh and his Wife.
A Courageous Rājput Woman.
Such anecdotes might be multiplied ad infinitum; but I will conclude with one displaying the romantic chivalry of the Rajput, and the influence of the fair in the formation of character; it is taken from the annals of Jaisalmer, the most remote of the States of Rajasthan, and situated in the heart of the desert, of which it is an oasis.
The Wedding of Sādhu.
She loved him for the dangers he had passed;
for he had the fame of being the first riever of the desert. Although betrothed to the heir of the Rathor of Mandor, she signified her wish to renounce the throne to be the bride of the chieftain of Pugal; and in spite of the dangers he provoked, and contrary to the Mohil chief’s advice, Sadhu, as a gallant Rajput, dared not reject the overture, and he promised “to accept the coco,”[[54]] if sent in form to Pugal [628]. In due time it came, and the nuptials were solemnized at Aurint. The dower was splendid; gems of high price, vessels of gold and silver, a golden bull, and a train of thirteen dewadharis,[[55]] or damsels of wisdom and penetration.