The Whirlpools of the Chambal, December 3.—Having halted several days at Barolli to admire the works of man, we marched to contemplate the still more stupendous operations of nature—the Chulis, or ‘whirlpools,’ of the Chambal. For three miles we had to hew a path through the forest for our camels and horses; at the end of which, the sound of many waters gradually increased, until we stood on the bleak edge of the river’s rocky bed. Our little camp was pitched upon an elevated spot, commanding a view over one of the most striking objects of nature—a scene bold beyond the power of description. Behind us was a deep wood; in front, the abrupt precipices of the Patar; to the left, the river expanded into a lake of ample dimensions, fringed with trees, and a little onward to the right, the majestic and mighty Charmanvati, one of the sixteen sacred rivers of India, shrunk into such a narrow compass that even man might bestride it. From the tent, nothing seemed to disturb the unruffled surface of the lake, until we approached the point of outlet, and beheld the deep bed the river has excavated in the rock. This is the commencement of the falls. Proceeding along the margin, one rapid succeeds another, the gulf increasing in width, and the noise becoming more terrific, until you arrive at a spot where the stream is split into four distinct channels; and a little farther, an isolated rock appears, high over which the whitened spray ascends, the sunbeams playing on it. Here the separated channels, each terminating in a cascade, fall into an ample basin, and again unite their waters, boiling around the masses of black rock, which ever and anon peeps out and contrasts with the foaming surge rising from the whirlpools (chulis) beneath. From this huge cauldron the waters again divide into two branches, encircling and isolating the rock, on whose northern face they reunite, and form another fine fall [715].
A tree is laid across the chasm, by the aid of which the adventurous may attain the summit of the rock, which is quite flat, and is called ‘the table of the Thakur of Bhainsror,’ who often, in the summer, holds his got or feast there, and a fitter spot for such an entertainment can scarcely be imagined. Here, soothed by the murmur of foaming waters, the eye dwelling on a variety of picturesque objects, seen through the prismatic hues of the spray-clouds, the baron of Bhainsror and his little court may sip their amrit, fancying it, all the while, taken from the churning of the little ocean beneath them.
Whirlpools[Whirlpools] of the Chambal.
On issuing from the Chulis, the river continues its course through its rocky bed, which gradually diminishes to about fifteen feet, and with greatly increased velocity, until, meeting a softer soil, under Bhainsror, it would float a man-of-war. The distance from the lake first described to this rock is about a mile, and the difference of elevation, under two hundred feet; the main cascade being about sixty feet fall. It is a curious fact that, after a course of three hundred miles, the bed of a mighty river like this should be no more than about three yards broad. The whirlpools are huge perpendicular caverns, thirty and forty feet in depth, between some of which there is a communication underground; the orbicular stones, termed roris, are often forced up in the agitation of these natural cauldrons; one of them represents the object of worship at Bal-rori. For many miles down the stream, towards Kotah, the rock is everywhere pierced by incipient Chulis, or whirlpools, which, according to their size and force, are always filled with these rounded stones.
From hence the Chambal pursues its course through the plateau (sometimes six hundred feet high) to Kotah. Here nature is in her grandest attire. The scene, though wild and rugged, is sublime; and were I offered an estate in Mewar, I would choose Bhainsror, and should be delighted to hold my got enveloped in the mists which rise from the whirlpools of the Chambal [716].
Gangabheva, December 4.—The carpenters have been at work for some days hewing a road for us to pass to Gangabheva, another famed retreat in this wild and now utterly deserted abode. We commenced our march through a forest, the dog-star nearly south; the river dimly seen on our right. On our left were the remains of a ruined circumvallation, which is termed Rana-Kot; probably a ramna, or preserve. At daybreak we arrived at the hamlet of Kherli; and here, our course changing abruptly to the south-east, we left the river, and continued our journey through rocks and thickets, until a deep grove of lofty trees, enclosed by a dilapidated wall, showed that we had reached the object of our search, Gangabheva.
What a scene burst upon us, as we cleared the ruined wall and forced our way over the mouldering fragments of ancient grandeur! Gangabheva, or ‘the circle of Ganga,’[[1]] appears to have been selected as a retreat for the votaries of Mahadeva, from its being a little oasis in this rock-bound valley; for its site was a fine turf, kept in perpetual verdure by springs.
TEMPLES OF GANGA BHEVA.
In the Forest of Pachail in Mewar.
To face page 1766.