Banks of the Mej River,[[12]] September 26, distance ten miles.—I this day quitted my hospitable friend, the Rao Raja. As I left my tent, I found the Maharaja of Thana, with the Dablana[[13]] contingent (zabita), amounting to a hundred horse, appointed to escort me to the frontier. Our route lay through the Banda-ka-nal, ‘the valley of Banda,’ whose gorge near the capital is not above four hundred yards in breadth, but [671] gradually expands until we reach Satur, about two miles distant. On both sides of this defile are numerous gardens, and the small temples and cenotaphs which crown the heights, in many places well wooded, produce a most picturesque effect. All these cenotaphs are perfectly classical in form, being simple domes supported by slender columns; that of Suja Bai is peculiarly graceful. As we reached Satur, the valley closed our last view of the fairy palace of the Haras, rearing its domes and gilded spires half-way up the mountain, the kunguras of Taragarh encircling it as a diadem, whilst the isolated hill of Miraji, at the foot of which was the old city, terminates the prospect, and makes Bundi appear as if entirely shut in by rocks. Satur is a sacred spot in the history of the Haras, and here is enshrined their tutelary divinity, fair Hope (Asapurna), who has never entirely deserted them, from the sakha of Asi, Gualkund, and Asir, to the present hour; and though the enchantress has often exchanged her attributes for those of Kalima,[[14]] the faith of her votaries has survived every metamorphosis. A high antiquity is ascribed to Satur, which they assert is mentioned in the sacred books; if so, it is not in connexion with the Haras. The chief temple is dedicated to Bhavani,[[15]] of whom Asapurna is an emanation. There is nothing striking in the structure, but it is hallowed by the multitude of sacrificial altars to the manes of the Haras who have “fallen in the faith of the Chhatri.” There were no inscriptions, but abundance of lazy drones of Brahmans enjoying their ease under the wide-spreading bar and pipal trees, ready, when well paid, to prepare their incantations to Bhavani, either for good or for evil: it is chiefly for the latter purpose that Satur-ki-Bhavani is celebrated. We continued our journey to Nawagaon, a tolerable village, but there being no good encamping ground, our tents were pitched a mile farther on, upon the bank of the Mej, whose turbid waters were flowing with great velocity from the accumulated mountain-rills which fall into it during the equinoctial rains.
Thāna, September 27.—This is the seat of Maharaja Sawant Singh, the eldest son of my friend Maharaja Bikramajit of Khini. He affords another instance in which the laws of adoption have given the son precedence of the father, who, while he receives homage in one capacity, must pay it in another; for young Sawant was raised from the junior to the elder branch of Thana. The castle of Sawant Singh, which guards the western frontier, is small, but of solid masonry, erected on the crest of a low hill. There are only six villages besides Thana forming his fief, which is burdened with the service of twenty-five horse. In Bundi, ‘a knight’s fee,’ or what should equip one cavalier, is two hundred and fifty rupees of rent. In the afternoon the Maharaja brought [672] his son and heir to visit me, a fine little fellow six years of age, who with his sword buckled by his side and miniature shield on his back, galloped his little steed over hill and dale, like a true Rajput. I procured several inscriptions, but none above three hundred years old.
Jahāzpur,[[16]] September 28.—At daybreak I again found the Maharaja at the head of his troop, ready to escort me to the frontier. In vain I urged that he had superabundantly performed all the duties of hospitality; “Such were his orders, and he must obey them.” I well know the laws of the Medes were not more peremptory than those of Bishan Singh; so we jogged on, beguiling the time in conversation regarding the semi-barbarous race of the tract I was about to enter, the Minas of Jahazpur and the Karar or fastnesses of the Banas, for ages the terror of the country, and who had studded the plains with cenotaphs of the Haras, fallen in defending their goods and chattels against their inroads. The fortress of Jahazpur was not visible until we entered the pass, and indeed had nearly cleared it, for it is erected on a hill detached from the range but on its eastern face, and completely guards this important point of ingress to Mewar. This district is termed Chaurasi, or consisting of eighty-four townships, a favourite territorial subdivision: nor is there any number intermediate between this and three hundred and sixty. Jahazpur, however, actually contains above a hundred townships, besides numerous purwas, or ‘hamlets.’ The population consists entirely of the indigenous Minas, who could turn out four thousand kamthas, or ‘bowmen,’ whose aid or enmity were not to be despised, as has been well demonstrated to Zalim Singh, who held the district during fifteen years. Throughout the whole of this extensive territory, which consists as much of land on the plains as in the hills, the Mina is the sole proprietor, nor has the Rana any property but the two tanks of Budh Lohari, and these were wrested from the Minas by Zalim Singh during his tenure.[[17]]
I was met at the frontier by the taiyunnati[[18]] of Jahazpur, headed by the old chief of Basai and his grandson Arjun, of whom we have spoken in the journey to Kotah. It was a very respectable troop of cavalry, and though their appointments were not [673] equal to my Hara escort, it was satisfactory to see assembled, merely at one post, a body which the Rana two years ago could not have collected round his own person, either for parade or defence: as a beginning, therefore, it is good. Received also the civil manager, Sobharam, the nephew of the minister, a very good man, but without the skill to manage such a tract. He was accompanied by several of the Mina Naiks, or chiefs. There is much that is interesting here, both as matter of duty and of history; we shall therefore halt for a few days, and rest our wearied invalids.
[1]. In almost every respect like a sparrow-hawk; perhaps a little more elongated and elegant in form; and the beak, I think, was straight. [Mr. C. Chubb of the Natural History Museum, South Kensington, has kindly examined a specimen of Eudynamis honorata or E. orientalis, the “Brain Fever” bird, and he confirms the Editor’s recollection that the bill of the bird is rounded, and somewhat hooked at the tip.]
[2]. [Thirty-six miles N.E. of Udaipur city.]
[3]. [The unhealthiness of Kotah is due to the water of the Kishor Sāgar lake on the east percolating through the soil to the river on the west (IGI, xv. 425).]
[4]. [Skt. parusa, an axe-shaped goad: also known as ankus.]
[5]. [About 10 miles W. of Kotah city.]