[26]. [Now headquarters of a Tahsīl in Kapāsan district: about 42 miles N.E. of Udaipur city.]
[27]. [These lead mines, once yielding a high revenue, have long been closed (Erskine ii. A. 53).]
[28]. [A trading town, about 30 miles N.E. of Udaipur city.]
[29]. [Among Jains at the present day the period of retreat, known as Pachasan or Paryusan, extends among the Swetāmbara section from 12th dark half of Sāwan (July-August) to 5th bright half of Bhādrapada (August-September): among the Digambara section from 5th bright half to 5th dark half of Bhādrapada (BG, ix. Part i. 113 f.). It corresponds to the Buddhist Vassavāsa or Vassa (Skt. vārshika, ‘belonging to the rainy season’) (Kern, Manual of Indian Buddhism, 80 f.).]
CHAPTER 9
Udaipur, July 1821.—When I concluded the narrative of my journey in October last year, I had no expectation that I should ever put my foot in the stirrup again, except en route to Bombay, in order to embark for Old England; but “honhar!”[[1]] as my Rajput friends exclaim, with a sigh, when an invincible destiny opposes their intentions. I had only awaited the termination of the monsoon to remove the wreck of a once robust frame to a more genial clime; and now, it will remain to be proved whether my worthy friend Duncan’s prophecy—“You must die, if you stay here six months more”—will be fulfilled. Poor Carey lies entombed on the heights of Merta; the doctor himself is just going off to the Cape, half-dead from the Kotah fever; and, as if that were not enough, the naharua, or guinea-worm, has blanched his cheek and made him a cripple. My cousin, Captain Waugh, is at Kotah, depressed by a continuance of the same malaria, and in a few days I again start solus, in the midst of the monsoon, for Haraoti.
Death of the Rāo Rāja of Būndi.
Cholera.
Pauna, or Pahona, July 25.—Yesterday was a day of disaster: I left the capital amidst torrents of rain, and between Merta and Mauli found my best elephant lying dead; the long and sudden march, and too heavy a load, had destroyed the fine animal. It was rather ominous to lose the emblem of wisdom in the outset of this journey. We passed a most uncomfortable day, and still more uncomfortable night, for a strong gale forced up the tent-pins from the clay soil, and brought down the tent over my ears. I had an escape from the pole, part of which I propped under the fly to keep me from suffocation. Around me were nothing but yells of distress, half laughable, half serious; horses loose, and camels roaring in discordant gutturals. We were glad long before dawn to pack up our chattels, thoroughly soaked, and consequently double weight, and begin moving for Pahona, where we are promised a little repose. I have taken this route as it is the last occasion I shall have to visit the work of my own hands, the mart of Bhilwara. Pahona is or was a place of some value; but the Brahmans, through the influence of the Rana’s sister, had got it by means of a forged grant, and abided by the privileges of their order. But fortunately they abused the right of sanctuary, in giving protection to a thief and assassin from interested motives; consequently, the penalty of resumption was incurred, and we hope to suffer no other ill-effects than Chand Bai’s displeasure.