Thus grandly closes the wonderful story of the great war!
CHAPTER III
THE SACRED LAND
Round about the town of Thanesar lies Brahmavarta the sacred land of the Hindus, and within a short walk of the town is Kurukshetra.
Thanesar itself is in ruins, and the lake near which the Pandavas and Kauravas fought their great battle is now a dismal swamp, yet adorned on one side by a beautiful fringe of really magnificent banyan trees, under whose leafy covering are sheltered a few of those unimposing brick and plaster temples so common in Upper India.
Unsparing time has strewn the whole world with the ruins of man’s handiwork. The crumbling remains of cities, temples and palaces may be found in every country under the sun; and, according to circumstances, appeal to widely different feelings and evoke widely different sentiments in the heart of the spectator. Thus, it is with a profound sense of the reality and greatness of Roman power that we muse amidst the columns of the Forum, or recall to mind in the mighty Colosseum the tragic pastimes of the imperial people. It is with a respectful admiration, not unmingled with pity, that we see in old Delhi the considerable ruins of the lordly mosque constructed out of the spoils of more ancient Hindu temples. But it is only with a feeling of simple depression, unrelieved by any other sentiment, that we wander amongst the extensive brick ruins of Thanesar, unredeemed by a trace of either beauty or grandeur, and largely tenanted by monkeys, in whom a pious Punjabi graduate recognizes “defunct Brahmans ... watching as it were over their old habitations.”[108]
I visited the town in December, 1892, and never have I seen a place which looked more utterly forlorn. Whole streets of brick-built houses quite modern in appearance falling into ruins, which are too mean to be interesting, too recent to be picturesque and, for the most part, entirely uninhabited, except by the “defunct Brahmans” already referred to. Where shops and dwellings still exist they partake of the general tumble-down character of the town; but the wares for sale are by no means ancient, and show that the remnant who burrow in Thanesar still indulge in the rich confectionery of the country and still take pleasure in the gay-coloured saree and the glittering chowree of glass.
Amidst the general decay a few Hindu temples with tall, tapering spires still show a brave front, and the tomb of the Mussulman saint, Shaikh Chilli, built on a slight elevation, rears its marble dome into the air with something of pride; but the rest, as I have said, is meanness and squalor itself.
Within the precincts of Shaikh Chilli’s tomb is a school where I saw the boys at their tasks as I passed in to see the place. “What unlucky boys,” thought I, “to be brought up amidst the unwholesome moral atmosphere of a decaying city!”
Although there is no present glory or grandeur about Kurukshetra, a visit to it will repay the thoughtful student of Indian history and religion.