Annals and Antiquities of Rajasthan, vol. 3 of 3, by James Tod

59. These inscriptions, while they have given rise to ingenious interpretations, demonstrate the little value of mere translations, even when made by first-rate scholars, who possess no historical knowledge of the tribes to whom they refer. This inscription was first translated by Sir W. Jones in 1784 (Asiatic Researches, vol. i.). A fresh version (from a fresh transcript I believe) was made by Mr. Colebrooke in 1800 (Asiatic Researches, vol. vii.), but rather darkening than enlightening the subject, from attending to his pandit’s emendation, giving to the prince’s name and tribe a metaphorical interpretation. Nor was it till Wilford had published his hodge-podge Essay on Vikramaditya and Salivahana, that Mr. Colebrooke discovered his error, and amended it in a note to that volume; but even then, without rendering the inscription useful as a historical document. I call Wilford’s essay a hodge-podge advisedly. It is a paper of immense research; vast materials are brought to his task, but he had an hypothesis, and all was confounded to suit it. Chauhans, Solankis, Guhilots, all are amalgamated in his crucible. It was from the Sarangadhar Padhati, written by the bard of Hamira Chauhan, not king of Mewar (as Wilford has it), but of Ranthambhor, lineally descended from Visaladeva, and slain by Alau-d-din. Sarangadhar was also author of the Hamir Raesa, and the Hamir Kavya, bearing this prince’s name, the essence of both of which I translated with the aid of my Guru. [For these works see Grierson, Modern Literature of Hindustan, 6.] I was long bewildered in my admiration of Wilford’s researches; but experience inspired distrust, and I adopted the useful adage in all these matters, 'nil admirari.' [Cunningham, while admitting the wild speculations of Wilford, says that important facts and classical references are to be found in his Essays (ASR, i. Introd. xviii. note)note).]

62. In transcribing the Annals of the Khichis, an important branch of the Chauhans, their bards have preserved this passage; but ignorant of Derawar and Lodorva (both preserved in my version of Chand), they have inserted Jaisalmer. By such anachronisms, arising from the emendations of ignorant bards, their poetic chronicles have lost half their value. To me the comparison of such passages, preserved in Chand from the older bards, and distorted by the moderns, was a subject of considerable pleasure. It reconciled much that I might have thrown away, teaching me the difference between absolute invention, and ignorance creating errors in the attempt to correct them. The Khichi bard, no doubt, thought he was doing right when he erased Derawar and inscribed Jaisalmer.

69. ‘The elephant wilds.’ [Skt. kunjari, ‘a female elephant,’ vana, Hindi ban, ‘forest.’] They assert that Ghazni is properly Gajni, founded by the Yadus: and in a curious specimen of Hindu geography (presented by me to the Royal Asiatic Society), all the tract about the glaciers of the Ganges is termed Kujliban, the ‘Elephant Forest.’ There is a Gajangarh mentioned by Abul-i-fazl in the region of Bajaur, inhabited by the Sultana, Jadon, and Yusufzai tribes. [This place does not appear in Jarrett’s translation of the Āīn, ii. 391 f.]

CHAPTER 2

Recapitulation of Hāra History.

—Having sketched the history of this race, from the regeneration of Anhal,^[1] the first Chauhan (at a period which it is impossible to fix), to the establishment of the first Hara prince in Bundi, we shall here recapitulate the most conspicuous princes, with [460] their dates, as established by synchronical events in the annals of other States, or by inscriptions; and then proceed with the history of the Haras as members of the great commonwealth of India.

Ishtpal, son of Anuraj; he was expelled from Asi, S. 1081 (A.D. 1025), and obtained Asir. He was founder of the Haras; the chronicle says not how long after obtaining Asi, but evidently very soon.

Hamir, killed in the battle of the Ghaggar, on the invasion of Shihabu-d-din, S. 1249, or A.D. 1193.

Rao Dewa, S. 1398 (A.D. 1342), took the Bandu valley from the Minas, founded the city of Bundi, and styled the country Haravati.

Rao Dewa, whose Mina subjects far outnumbered his Haras, had recourse, in order to consolidate his authority, to one of those barbarous acts too common in Rajput conquests. The Rajput chronicler so far palliates the deed, that he assigns a reason for it, namely, the insolence of the Mina leader, who dared to ask a daughter of the ‘lord of the Patar.’ Be this as it may, he called in the aid of the Haras of Bumbaoda and the Solankis of Toda, and almost annihilated the Usaras.

Abdication of Rāo Dewa.

—How long it was after this act of barbarity that Dewa abdicated in favour of his son, is not mentioned, though it is far from improbable that this crime influenced his determination. This was the second time of his abdication of power: first, when he gave Bumbaoda to Harraj, and went to Sikandar Lodi; and now to Samarsi, the branches of Bundi and the Patar remaining independent of each other. The act of abdication confers the title of Jugraj;^[2] or when they conjoin the authority of the son with the father, the heir is styled Jivaraj. Four instances of this are on record in the annals of Bundi; namely, by Dewa, by Narayandas, by Raj Chhattar Sal, and by Sriji Ummed Singh. It is a rule for a prince never to enter the capital after abandoning the government; the king is virtually defunct; he cannot be a subject, and he is no longer a king. To render the act more impressive, they make an effigy of the abdicated king, and on the twelfth day following the act (being the usual period of [461] mourning) they commit it to the flames.^[3] In accordance with this custom, Dewa never afterwards entered the walls either of Bundi or Bumbaoda,^[4] but resided at the village of Umarthuna, five coss from the former, till his death.

Rāo Napuji.

—Samarsi had three sons: 1. Napuji, who succeeded; 2. Harpal, who obtained Jajawar, and left numerous issue, called Harpalpotas; and 3. Jethsi, who had the honour of first extending the Hara name beyond the Chambal. On his return from a visit to the Tuar chief of Kaithan, he passed the residence of a community of Bhils, in an extensive ravine near the river. Taking them by surprise, he attacked them, and they fell victims to the fury of the Haras. At the entrance of this ravine, which was defended by an outwork, Jethsi slew the leader of the Bhils, and erected there a hathi (elephant) to the god of battle, Bhairon. He stands on the spot called Char-jhopra, near the chief portal of the castle of Kotah, a name derived from a community of Bhils called Kotia.^[5]

Napuji.

—Napuji, a name of no small note in the chronicles of Haravati, succeeded Samarsi. Napuji had married a daughter of the Solanki, chief of Toda,^[6] the lineal descendant of the ancient kings of Anhilwara. While on a visit to Toda, a slab of beautiful marble attracted the regard of the Hara Rao, who desired his bride to ask it of her father. His delicacy was offended, and he replied, “he supposed the Hara would next ask him for his wife”; and desired him to depart. Napuji was incensed, and visited his anger upon his wife, whom he treated with neglect and even banished from his bed. She complained to her father. On the Kajri Tij, the joyous third of the [462] month Sawan, when a Rajput must visit his wife, the vassals of Bundi were dismissed to their homes to keep the festival sacred to ‘the mother of births.’ The Toda Rao, taking advantage of the unguarded state of Bundi, obtained admittance by stealth, and drove his lance through the head of the Hara Rao. He retired without observation, and was relating to his attendants the success of his revenge, when, at this moment, they passed one of the Bundi vassals, who, seated in a hollow taking his amal-pani (opium-water), was meditating on the folly of going home, where no endearing caresses awaited him from his wife, who was deranged, and had determined to return to Bundi. While thus absorbed in gloomy reflections, the trampling of horses met his ear, and soon was heard the indecent mirth of the Toda Rao’s party, at the Hara Rao dismissing his vassals and remaining unattended. The Chauhan guessed the rest, and as the Toda Rao passed close to him, he levelled a blow, which severed his right arm from his body and brought him from his horse. The Solanki’s attendants took to flight, and the Chauhan put the severed limb, on which was the golden bracelet, in his scarf, and proceeded back to Bundi. Here all was confusion and sorrow. The Solanki queen, true to her faith, determined to mount the pyre with the murdered body of her lord; yet equally true to the line whence she sprung, was praising the vigour of her brother’s arm, “which had made so many mouths,^[7] that she wanted hands to present a pan to each.” At the moment she was apostrophizing the dead body of her lord, his faithful vassal entered, and undoing the scarf presented to her the dissevered arm, saying, “Perhaps this may aid you.” She recognized the bracelet, and though, as a Sati, she had done with this world, and should die in peace with all mankind, she could not forget, even at that dread moment, that “to revenge a feud” was the first of all duties. She called for pen and ink, and before mounting the pyre wrote to her brother, that if he did not wipe off that disgrace, his seed would be stigmatized as the issue of “the one-handed Solanki.” When he perused the dying words of his Sati sister, he was stung to the soul, and being incapable of revenge, immediately dashed out his brains against a pillar of the hall.

Hamuji. Alu.

—Napuji had four sons, Hamuji, Naurang (whose descendants are Naurangpotas), Tharad (whose descendants are Tharad Haras), and Hamu, who succeeded in S. 1440. We have already mentioned the separation of the branches, when Harraj retained Bumbaoda, at the period when his father established himself at Bundi. Alu Hara [463] succeeded; but the lord of the Patar had a feud with the Rana, and he was dispossessed of his birthright. Bumbaoda was levelled, and he left no heirs to his revenge.

Mewār attempts to regain Influence in Būndi.

—The princes of Chitor, who had recovered from the shock of Ala’s invasion, now re-exerted their strength, the first act of which was the reduction of the power of the great vassals, who had taken advantage of their distresses to render themselves independent: among these they included the Haras. But the Haras deny their vassalage, and allege, that though they always acknowledged the supremacy of the gaddi of Mewar, they were indebted to their swords, not his pattas, for the lands they conquered on the Alpine Patar. Both to a certain degree are right. There is no room to doubt that the fugitive Hara from Asir owed his preservation, as well as his establishment, to the Rana, who assuredly possessed the whole of the Plateau till Ala’s invasion. But then the Sesodia power was weakened; the Bhumias and aboriginal tribes recovered their old retreats, and from these the Haras obtained them by conquest. The Rana, however, who would not admit that a temporary abeyance of his power sanctioned any encroachment upon it, called upon Hamu “to do service for Bundi.” The Hara conceded personal homage in the grand festivals of the Dasahra and Holi, to acknowledge his supremacy and receive the tika of installation; but he rejected at once the claim of unlimited attendance. Nothing less, however, would satisfy the king of Chitor, who resolved to compel submission, or drive the stock of Dewa from the Patar. Hamu defied, and determined to brave, his resentment. The Rana of Mewar marched with all his vassals to Bundi, and encamped at Nimera, only a few miles from the city. Five hundred Haras, ‘the sons of one father,’ put on the saffron robe, and rallied round their chief, determined to die with him. Having no hope but from an effort of despair, they marched out at midnight, and fell upon the Rana’s camp, which was completely surprised; and each Sesodia sought safety in flight. Hamu made his way direct to the tent of Hindupati;^[8] but the sovereign of the Sesodias was glad to avail himself of the gloom and confusion to seek shelter in Chitor, while his vassals fell under the swords of the Haras.

Humiliated, disgraced, and enraged at being thus foiled by a handful of men, the Rana re-formed his troops under the walls of Chitor, and swore he would not eat until he was master of Bundi. The rash vow went round; but Bundi was sixty miles distant, and defended by brave hearts. His chiefs expostulated with the Rana on the absolute impossibility of redeeming his vow; but the words of kings are sacred: Bundi must fall, ere the king of the Guhilots could dine. In this exigence, a childish [464] expedient was proposed to release him from hunger and his oath; “to erect a mock Bundi and take it by storm.”^[9] Instantly the mimic town arose under the walls of Chitor; and, that the deception might be complete, the local nomenclature was attended to, and each quarter had its appropriate appellation. A band of Haras of the Patar were in the service of Chitor, whose leader, Kumbha-Bersi, was returning with his kin from hunting the deer, when their attention was attracted by this strange bustle. The story was soon told, that Bundi must fall ere the Rana could dine. Kumbha assembled his brethren of the Patar, declaring that even the mock Bundi must be defended. All felt the indignity to the clan, and each bosom burning with indignation, they prepared to protect the mud walls of the pseudo Bundi from insult. It was reported to the Rana that Bundi was finished. He advanced to the storm: but what was his surprise when, instead of the blank-cartridge, he heard a volley of balls whiz amongst them! A messenger was dispatched, and was received by Bersi at the gate, who explained the cause of the unexpected salutation, desiring him to tell the Rana that “not even the mock capital of a Hara should be dishonoured.” Spreading a sheet at the little gateway, Bersi and the Kumbhawats invited the assault, and at the threshold of “Gar-ki-Bundi” (the Bundi of clay) they gave up their lives for the honour of the race.^[10] The Rana wisely remained satisfied with this salvo to his dignity, nor sought any further to wipe off the disgrace incurred at the real capital of the Haras, perceiving the impolicy of driving such a daring clan to desperation, whose services he could command on an emergency.

Rāo Bīr Singh.

—Hamu, who ruled sixteen years, left two sons: 1. Birsingh; and 2. Lala, who obtained Khatkar, and had two sons, Nauvarma and Jetha, each of whom left clans called after them Nauvarma-pota and Jethawat. Birsingh ruled fifteen years, and left three sons: Biru, Jabdu, who founded three tribes,^[11] and Nima, descendants Nimawats. Biru, who died S. 1526, ruled fifty years, and had seven sons: 1. Rao Bandu; 2. Sanda; 3. Aka; 4. Uda; 5. Chanda; 6. Samarsingh; 7. Amarsingh;—the first five founded clans named after them Akawat, Udawat, Chondawat, but the last two abandoned their faith for that of Islam [465].

Rāo Banda, c. A.D. 1485.

—Banda has left a deathless name in Rajwara for his boundless charities, more especially during the famine which desolated that country in S. 1542 (A.D. 1486).^[12] He was forewarned, says the bard, in a vision, of the visitation. Kal (Time or the famine personified) appeared riding on a lean black buffalo. Grasping his sword and shield, the intrepid Hara assaulted the apparition. “Bravo, Banda Hara,” it exclaimed; “I am Kal (Time); on me your sword will fall in vain. Yet you are the only mortal who ever dared to oppose me. Now listen: I am Byalis (forty-two); the land will become a desert; fill your granaries, distribute liberally, they will never empty.” Thus saying, the spectre vanished. Rao Banda obeyed the injunction; he collected grain from every surrounding State. One year passed and another had almost followed, when the periodical rains ceased, and a famine ensued which ravaged all India. Princes far and near sent for aid to Bundi, while his own poor had daily portions served out gratis: which practice is still kept up in memory of Rao Banda, by the name of Langar-ki-gagari, or ‘anchor of Banda.’^[13]

But the piety and charity of Rao Banda could not shield him from adversity. His two youngest brothers, urged by the temptation of power, abandoned their faith, and with the aid of the royal power expelled him from Bundi, where, under their new titles of Samarkandi and Amarkandi, they jointly ruled eleven years. Banda retired to Matunda, in the hills, where he died after a reign of twenty-one years, and where his cenotaph still remains. He left two sons: 1. Narayandas; and 2. Nirbudh, who had Matunda.

Rāo Nārāyandās.

—Narayan had grown up to manhood in this retreat; but no sooner was he at liberty to act for himself, than he assembled the Haras of the Patar, and revealed his determination to obtain Bundi, or perish in the attempt. They swore to abide his fortunes. After the days of matam (mourning) were over, he sent to his Islamite uncles a complimentary message, intimating his wish to pay his respects to them; and not suspecting danger from a youth brought up in obscurity, it was signified that he might come.

With a small but devoted band, he reached the chauk (square), where he left his adherents, and alone repaired to the palace. He ascended to where both the uncles were seated almost unattended. They liked not the resolute demeanour of the youth, and tried to gain a passage which led to a subterranean apartment; but no sooner was this intention perceived, than the khanda, or ‘double-edged sword,’ of Banda’s son cut the elder to the ground, while his lance reached the other before he got to a [466] place of security. In an instant, he severed both their heads, with which he graced the shrine of Bhavani, and giving a shout to his followers in the chauk, their swords were soon at work upon the Muslims. Every true Hara supported the just cause, and the dead bodies of the apostates and their crew were hurled with ignominy over the walls. To commemorate this exploit and the recovery of Bundi from these traitors, the pillar on which the sword of the young Hara descended, when he struck down Samarkandi, and which bears testimony to the vigour of his arm, is annually worshipped by every Hara on the festival of the Dasahra.^[14]

Narayandas became celebrated for his strength and prowess. He was one of those undaunted Rajputs who are absolutely strangers to the impression of fear, and it might be said of danger and himself, “that they were brothers whelped the same day, and he the elder.” Unfortunately, these qualities were rendered inert from the enormous quantity of opium he took, which would have killed most men; for it is recorded “he could at one time eat the weight of seven pice.”^[15] The consequence of this vice, as might be expected, was a constant stupefaction, of which many anecdotes are related. Being called to aid the Rana Raemall, then attacked by the Pathans of Mandu, he set out at the head of five hundred select Haras. On the first day’s march he was taking his siesta, after his usual dose, under a tree, his mouth wide open, into which the flies had unmolested ingress, when a young Telin ^[16] came to draw water at the well, and on learning that this was Bundi’s prince on his way to aid the Rana in his distress, she observed, “If he gets no other aid than his, alas for my prince!” “The amaldar (opium-eater) has quick ears, though no eyes,” is a common adage in Rajwara. “What is that you say, rand (widow)?” roared the Rao, advancing to her. Upon her endeavouring to excuse herself, he observed, “Do not fear, but repeat it.” In her hand she had an iron crowbar, which the Rao, taking it from her, twisted until the ends met round her neck. “Wear this garland for me,” said he, “until I return from aiding the Rana, unless in the interim you can find some one strong enough to unbind it.”

The Siege of Chitor.

—Chitor was closely invested; the Rao moved by the intricacies of the Patar, took the royal camp by surprise, and made direct for the tent of the generalissimo, cutting down all in his way. Confusion and panic seized the Muslims, who fled in [467] all directions.^[17] The Bundi nakkaras (drums) struck up; and as the morning broke, the besieged had the satisfaction to behold the invaders dispersed and their auxiliaries at hand. Rana Raemall came forth, and conducted his deliverer in triumph to Chitor. All the chiefs assembled to do honour to Bundi’s prince, and the ladies ‘behind the curtain’ felt so little alarm at their opium-eating knight, that the Rana’s niece determined to espouse him, and next day communicated her intentions to the Rana. ‘The slave of Narayan'’ was too courteous a cavalier to let any fair lady die for his love; the Rana was too sensible of his obligation not to hail with joy any mode of testifying his gratitude, and the nuptials of the Hara and Ketu were celebrated with pomp. With victory and his bride, he returned to the Banda valley; where, however, ‘the flower of gloomy Dis’ soon gained the ascendant even over Kamdeo,^[18] and his doses augmented to such a degree, that “he scratched his lady instead of himself, and with such severity that he marred the beauty of the Mewari.” In the morning, perceiving what had happened, yet being assailed with no reproach, he gained a reluctant victory over himself, and “consigned the opium-box to her keeping.” Narayandas ruled thirty-two years, and left his country in tranquillity, and much extended, to his only son.

Rāo Sūrajmall, c. A.D. 1533.

—Surajmall ascended the gaddi in S. 1590 (A.D. 1534). Like his father, he was athletic in form and dauntless in soul; and it is said possessed in an eminent degree that unerring sign of a hero, long arms, his (like those of Rama and Prithiraj) “reaching far below his knees.”

The alliance with Chitor was again cemented by intermarriage. Suja Bai, sister to Surajmall, was espoused by Rana Ratna, who bestowed his own sister on the Rao. Rao Suja, like his father, was too partial to his amal. One day, at Chitor, he had fallen asleep in the Presence, when a Purbia chief felt an irresistible inclination to disturb him, and “tickled the Hara’s ear with a straw.” He might as well have jested with a tiger: a back stroke with his khanda stretched the insulter on the carpet. The son of the Purbia treasured up the feud, and waited for revenge, which he effected by making the Rana believe the Rao had other objects in view, besides visiting his sister Suja Bai, at the Rawala. The train thus laid, the slightest incident inflamed it. The fair Suja had prepared a repast, to which she invited both her brother and her husband: she had not only attended the culinary process herself, but waited on these objects of her love to drive the flies from the food. Though the wedded fair of Rajputana clings to the husband, yet she is ever more solicitous for [468] the honour of the house from whence she sprung, than that into which she has been admitted; which feeling has engendered numerous quarrels. Unhappily, Suja remarked, on removing the dishes, that “her brother had devoured his share like a tiger, while her husband had played with his like a child (balak).” The expression, added to other insults which he fancied were put upon him, cost the Rao his life, and sent the fair Suja an untimely victim to Indraloka.^[19] The dictates of hospitality prevented the Rana from noticing the remark at the moment, and in fact it was more accordant with the general tenor of his character to revenge the affront with greater security than even the isolated situation of the brave Hara afforded him. On the latter taking leave, the Rana invited himself to hunt on the next spring festival in the ramnas or preserves of Bundi. The merry month of Phalgun arrived; the Rana and his court prepared their suits of amaua (green), and ascended the Patar on the road to Bundi, in spite of the anathema of the prophetic Sati, who, as she ascended the pyre at Bumbaoda, pronounced that whenever Rao and Rana met to hunt together at the Aheria, such meeting, which had blasted all her hopes, would always be fatal. But centuries had rolled between the denunciation of the daughter of Alu Hara and Suja Bai of Bundi; and the prophecy, though in every mouth, served merely to amuse the leisure hour; the moral being forgotten it was only looked upon as ‘a tale that was past.’

Murder of Rāo Sūrajmall.

—The scene chosen for the sport was on the heights of Nanta, not far from the western bank of the Chambal, in whose glades every species of game, from the lordly lion to the timid hare, abounded. The troops were formed into lines, advancing through the jungles with the customary noise and clamour, and driving before them a promiscuous herd of tenants of the forest—lions, tigers, hyenas, bears, every species of deer, from the enormous barahsinghae and nilgae ^[20] to the delicate antelope, with jackals, foxes, hares, and the little wild dog. In such an animated scene as this, the Rajput forgets even his opium; he requires no exhilaration beyond the stimulus before him; a species of petty war, not altogether free from danger.

It was amidst the confusion of such a scene that the dastard Rana determined to gratify his malice. The princes had convenient stations assigned them, where they could securely assail the game as it passed, each having but one or two confidential attendants. With the Rana was the Iago of his revenge, the son of the Purbia, whom the Hara prince had slain. “Now is the moment,” said the Rana to his companion, “to slay the boar,” and instantly an arrow from the bow of the Purbia was [469] sped at the Rao. “With an eagle’s eye he saw it coming, and turned it off with his bow.” This might have been chance, but another from the foster-brother of the Rana convinced him there was treachery. Scarcely had he warded off the second, when the Rana darted at him on horseback, and cut him down with his khanda. The Rao fell, but recovering, took his shawl and tightly bound up the wound, and as his foe was making off he called aloud, “Escape you may, but you have sunk Mewar.” The Purbia, who followed his prince, when he saw the Rao bind up his wound, said, “The work is but half done”; and like a coward, Ratna once more charged the wounded Rao. As his arm was raised to finish the deed of shame, like a wounded tiger the Hara made a dying effort, caught the assassin by the robe, and dragged him from his steed. Together they came to the ground, the Rana underneath. The Rao knelt upon his breast, while, with preternatural strength, with one hand he grasped his victim by the throat, with the other he searched for his dagger. What a moment for revenge! He plunged the weapon into his assassin’s heart, and saw him expire at his feet. The Rao was satisfied; there was no more life left him than sufficed for revenge, and he dropped a corpse upon the dead body of his foeman.

The tidings flew to Bundi, to the mother of the Rao, that her son was slain in the Aheria. “Slain!” exclaimed this noble dame, “but did he fall alone? Never could a son, who has drunk at this breast, depart unaccompanied”; and as she spoke, “maternal feeling caused the milk to issue from the fount with such force, that it rent the slab on which it fell.”

The Satis.

—The dread of dishonour, which quenched the common sympathies of nature for the death of her son, had scarcely been thus expressed, when a second messenger announced the magnitude of his revenge. The Rajput dame was satisfied, though fresh horrors were about to follow. The wives of the murdered princes could not survive, and the pyres were prepared on the fatal field of sport. The fair Suja expiated her jest, which cost her a husband and a brother, in the flames, while the sister of Rana Ratna, married to the Rao, in accordance with custom or affection, burned with the dead body of her lord. The cenotaphs of the princes were reared where they fell; while that of Suja Bai was erected on a pinnacle of the Pass, and adds to the picturesque beauty of this romantic valley, which possesses a double charm for the traveller, who may have taste to admire the scene, and patience to listen to the story [470].^[21]

Rāo Surthān, c. A.D. 1534.

—Surthan succeeded in S. 1591 (A.D. 1535), and married the daughter of the celebrated Sakta, founder of the Saktawats of Mewar. He became an ardent votary of the bloodstained divinity of war, Kal-Bhairava, and like almost all those ferocious Rajputs who resign themselves to his horrid rites, grew cruel and at length deranged. Human victims are the chief offerings to this brutalized personification of war, though Surthan was satisfied with the eyes of his subjects, which he placed upon the altar of ‘the mother of war.’ It was then time to question the divine right by which he ruled. The assembled nobles deposed and banished him from Bundi, assigning a small village on the Chambal for his residence, to which he gave the name Surthanpur, which survives to bear testimony to one of many instances of the deposition of their princes by the Rajputs, when they offend custom or morality. Having no offspring, the nobles elected the son of Nirbudh, son of Rao Banda, who had been brought up in his patrimonial village of Matunda.

Rāo Arjun.

—Rao Arjun, the eldest of the eight sons ^[22] of Nirbudh, succeeded his banished cousin. Nothing can more effectually evince the total extinction of animosity between these valiant races, when once ‘a feud is balanced,’ than the fact of Rao Arjun, soon after his accession, devoting himself and his valiant kinsmen to the service of the son of that Rana who had slain his predecessor. The memorable attack upon Chitor by Bahadur of Gujarat has already been related,^[23] and the death of the Hara prince and his vassals at the post of honour, the breach. Rao Arjun was this prince, who was blown up at the Chitori burj (bastion). The Bundi bard makes a striking picture of this catastrophe, in which the indomitable courage of their prince is finely imagined. The fact is also confirmed by the annals of Mewar:

“Seated on a fragment of the rock, disparted by the explosion of the mine, Arjun drew his sword, and the world beheld his departure with amazement.”^[24]

Surjan, the eldest of the four sons ^[25] of Arjun, succeeded in S. 1589 (A.D. 1533) [471].