By the Lamas themselves I never heard these mounds alluded to otherwise than by the words “Mani panee.” Cunningham, however, who had ample opportunity of ascertaining their meaning and origin, terms them “Manís” (in another form of spelling, “Munees”), and thus describes them:—“The Maní—a word naturalized from the Sanscrit—is a stone dyke, from four to five feet high, and from six to twelve in breadth; length from ten or twenty feet to half a mile The surface of the Maní is always covered with inscribed slabs; these are votive offerings from all classes of people for the attainment of some particular object. Does a childless man wish for a son, or a merchant about to travel hope for a safe return; each goes to a Lama and purchases a slate, which he deposits carefully on the village ‘Maní,’ and returns to his home in full confidence that his prayers will be heard.” [↑]
[7] This was in all probability intended to represent the form of the lotus. Vide [Appendix B]. [↑]
Part V.
Ladak and the Monastery of Hemis.
The first event after being settled in our new quarters was the arrival of a sheep, presented to us by the Kardar, or chief dignitary of the town, as a mark of affection and distinction. This, according to the strict letter of the law, we should have refused to accept; twenty days marching, however, while it had sharpened our appetites, had rather diminished our stores. Sheep were not to be got every day, and an ill-looking animal which we had succeeded in purchasing at Egnemo, had been overcome by the heat of the weather and taken itself off on the road. Other supplies, also, were a good deal weakened by successive attacks; potatoes had been extinct many days, and the stock of ducks, [[182]]which formed our main stay in case of future difficulties, was rapidly succumbing to the knife of the assassin. Under these circumstances we felt that we would be in no way justified in hurting the Kardar’s feelings at the expense of our own, by refusing his present, and believing ourselves to be in this instance fit subjects for out-door relief, the new arrival was soon swinging about in the breeze, a welcome addition to our unfurnished larder.
Having thus ended the struggle between our duty and our feelings, we turned our attention to the exploration of the surrounding country.
W.H.K. Delt. Hanhart, Lith.
Rajah’s Palace, Ladak.
The town of Ladak, although in a commercial point of view by no means a flourishing-looking settlement, was, as far as picturesqueness was concerned, everything that could be desired. It was built in the style so popular throughout the country—on pinnacles of rock, and such out of the way positions as seemed, of all others, the least adapted for building purposes—immediately outside the town, occupying a sort of bason among the surrounding mountains, and was what might fairly be called a “city of the dead.” It was of considerable extent, and was formed of groups of the numerous monumental buildings which I have described, and which in a country where the habitations of the living appear so [[183]]few in proportion to those of the dead, form so curious and remarkable a feature. These tombs, although by no means of very modern date, bear traces, in many instances, of the more recently departed of the Buddhist population. Burnt fragments of bone, hair, &c., were scattered about in various directions, while, collected together in one corner, were the little mounds of mud with a rise at one extremity, where the sculptured turban ought to rest, which denoted the last resting-place of the Moslem faithful. Meeting with the Kardar’s chupprassie, I entered into conversation with him about the manners and customs of the Thibetians, a subject on which he seemed to have very hazy ideas indeed, although not on that account at all the less inclined to impart them to one more ignorant than himself. His opinion of the inscribed stones was that they were all written by the Lamas, but he failed completely in explaining for what reason they were collected together. He was aware, however, of Khurjidal, who was to inspect them at the last day. The tomb-like erections, he said, were considered in the light of gods; the bones and ashes of departed Lamas having been pounded up together and deposited beneath them, together with such valuables as turquoises, Pushmeena, rupees, &c. This fact would perhaps [[184]]account for their being so often in a ruined state—Gûlab Singh having, probably, taken a look at their foundations in search of such valuable pickings. The reason my informant gave me for the unwillingness of the people, however poor, to sell their superabundant ornaments, was that they regarded them as sacred, and held them as their own property during their lifetime only; on decease the jewels reverted to the possessions of the Church. The Lamas are provided, by the custom of dedicating in every family of two or more, one to that office; should there be a number of girls in a family, all those that do not marry become nuns, and adopt the male attire of red and yellow. The nuns, however, seem to be by no means kept in confinement; they work in the fields, and one of them enlisted with us as a coolie, and brought her load into camp before any of her male coadjutors. Among other curious information my friend told me, that the Thibetians by no means consider that each man is entitled to the luxury of a wife all to himself; but that a family of four or five brothers frequently have but one between them, and that the system is productive of no ill-feeling whatever among the different members.[1] He also [[185]]pointed out a fact which I had not before noticed, viz., that the Thibetians invariably pass to the right hand of these piles of stones and other monuments, but for what reason he was unable to inform me.[2] Having finished his stock of information, which I received thank-fully in default of better, he told me, with delightful coolness, that it was the proper thing for me to give him a bottle of brandy for the Kardar, and that it would be necessary to send also a corkscrew with the bottle, to enable him to get at it! The impudence of the request was almost worth the bottle, but brandy was too scarce and precious a commodity to justify us in pleasing the Kardar, so that all I could do was politely to decline sending the corkscrew or the bottle either. In the afternoon we explored the Bazaar, where we found abundance of dogs, dirt, and idlers, but little else. What little there was in the way of merchandise the proprietors seemed utterly indifferent about disposing of, and after visiting a [[186]]few shops we went away in disgust. The people were a mixture of Cashmeeries, Chinese, Tartars, Bengalees, and Indians of all sorts and sects, and more idle, good-for-nothing looking scoundrels I never laid eyes on. One most amusing group of Mahomedan exquisites reminded one forcibly of Punch’s Noah’s ark costumes and Bond Street specimens of fashion. They were dressed in exaggerated turbans and long white Chogas, or loose coats, which reached down to their heels; and, as arm in arm, with gentle swagger, they sauntered through the bazaar, they had, in addition to their heavy swellishness, an air of Eastern listlessness to which the most exquisite of their European prototypes could never hope to attain. On reaching our camp we found another traveller had added his little canvas to the scene; it was one of the Government Survey, whom the natives invariably designate by the comprehensive title of “the Compass Wallahs.” Wallah is, in Hindostanee, as nearly as possible an equivalent to “fellow,” and in explaining the character of this particular order of Wallah, the accent is always strong on the second syllable of the compass. The Compáss Wallah in question we found quite a wild man of the mountains; his face, from changes of heat and cold and long exposure, was burnt and blistered into all sorts of colours, and, [[187]]to make his appearance more generally striking, he wore as head-dress, a flyaway, puggery, or turban of blue cotton, of the most voluminous dimensions and wonderful construction imaginable. He gave us an amusing account of his operations among the clouds; how he always rode a cow! and was so much alone that he at times began to doubt the existence of other white men in creation besides himself; how he was sea sick at first, and unable to sleep at night from the great rarification of the atmosphere, &c. He joined us during dinner, just in time for a triumph of a plum pudding which our cook had unexpectedly produced, and his heart was so gladdened and expanded by either the suet, the raisins, or the brandy, that he chatted away until the dissipated mountain hour of eleven o’clock, when we sent him off to bed, much pleased with his entertainment, and again reassured, at least for a time, of the continued existence, not only of white men in the world, but of their plum puddings. Among other statistics he gave us the height of Ladak, as 11,000 feet, and that of the recently discovered monarch of the mountains, now set at rest as belonging to the Himalayan range, as being 29,003 feet above the level of the sea.[3] [[188]]