A country vessel is being towed by her crew round a rocky point; each man has his own gūn, or track-rope, fastened to a short, thick piece of bamboo, which he carries over his shoulder. A Pinnace, or budjerow, tracks, with ten or twelve men, upon one rope only.
The Sīckrī-galī pass, during the Hindū and Muhammadan Governments, was the commanding entrance from Bahar into Bengal, and was fortified with a strong wall; however, in 1742, a Mahratta army of cavalry passed into Bengal through the hills above Colgong. The village of Sīckrī-galī is eighteen miles above Rajmahal at the base of a high rocky eminence, commanding a fine view of two ranges of hills. There is here the tomb of a celebrated Muhammadan Saint, Pīr Pointī, and a cave in limestone rock; and higher up, at a place called Pīr Pointī, now a mass of ruins, is another tomb of the saint.
This pass is close upon the Rajmahal hills, and the only European inhabitant lives in the Bangla, commonly called Bungalow, the house at the foot of the hill. Wild beasts sometimes come to this place at night, and the footmarks of the tiger are often to be seen in the garden. Jackals roam howling through the village; bears, tigers, rhinoceroses, leopards, hogs, deer of all kinds, abound here, and feathered game in the hills. Elephants are absolutely necessary to enable a man to enjoy shooting amidst the high grass and thorny thickets. The place is so much disturbed by the people who go into the hills for wood, that the game retreat farther into the jangal. When a gentleman goes out shooting on foot, the dandīs accompany him with long poles, to beat the bushes. In the marshy plains under the hills of this pass good shooting is to be found, but on account of tigers it is dangerous.
Beyond the heavy rain which is pouring down, the hills of Rajmahal are seen in the distance; they are beautifully wooded, and full of game of every description. No scenes can be more picturesque than those in the interior. The wild climbers hang from the forest trees in luxuriant beauty, especially that magnificent one, the cachnar (bauhinia scandens)—a specimen of its leaves gathered in these hills is in the Museum.
The dandīs from the boats that anchor at Sīckrī-galī go up the hills in gangs to cut wood for firing, and bring it down in great quantities.
The byā birds hang their long nests from the extreme end of the slight branches of the delicate bābul-tree pendant over a pool or stream for security. The Museum also contains nests of this little bird suspended on the broad leaf of the fan-palm. The fable declares that the “Old birds put a fire-fly into their nests every night to act as a lamp.” For a further account of these interesting little creatures, see “Wanderings of a Pilgrim,” (vol. I. 220, 221, and vol. II. 74). The marshes at the foot of the hills are full of leeches the low-lands abound with wild fowl, hares, and partridges of a peculiar sort, said to be found only at Rajmahal, and one other station in India.
The hill-men are a most singular race of people; they are about five feet high, very active, remarkable for lightness and suppleness of limb, with the piercing and restless eye, said to be peculiar to savages. They wear their hair drawn tight up in a knot on the very top of their head, the ends fastened in with a wooden comb. They are good-natured, gay-looking people. Their principal food is Indian corn, boiled and mashed. They kill wild hogs with a poisoned arrow, taking the precaution to cut out the flesh around the wound before they eat the animal. Their bows and arrows are rough and wild-looking; the strips of feather on the latter are from the wing of the vulture. They assert that they procure the poison, into which they dip their arrows, from a remote hill-tribe, and are ignorant of its nature: it appears to be a carefully guarded secret. Three of these arrows are in the Museum. At the proper season the hill-men descend into the plains to gather in the crops of uncut rice.
A country boat filled with bales of cotton is floating down the stream; and the crew of a Dacca oolāk, which is aground, are striving to shove her into deeper water.
A native, sitting on the bank, is quietly watching the noisy scene, and smoking his nāriyal, or cocoa-nut pipe, by the side of his charpāī, or bed, which is on the bank. Native vessels are towed by the dāndīs, or boatmen, most part of the way, except during the rains. These men work from daylight till sunset in the most laborious way, frequently in the water for hours, up to their middles, towing the vessel or shoving it with their backs over sand banks: their labour does not cease until the boats are lugāo’d (moored) at night; then they cook on shore and eat their daily meal of boiled rice and curry, or flour cakes, called chappatīs. Occasionally, when a fair wind blows, they get some rest; for then an immense square sail is hoisted, tacks, sheets, and haul-yards are fast belayed: they all go to sleep except the steersman, and the safety of the boat depends upon the rotten state of the cordage and sails: frequently very strong and sudden squalls come on, and, before a single rope is let go, every thing is blown to ribbons.
Beneath a group of beautiful palm-trees, a half-witted young Fakīr, adorned with peacocks’ feathers, is sitting and talking to the men around him, who regard as prophetic whatever his wandering and unsettled mind induces him to utter, and look upon him as the favourite of heaven—the natives treat persons thus afflicted with the greatest kindness, and supply them with food. A leaf of the fan palm, here represented, may be seen in the Museum. The whole group, as well as the trees, are portraits.
On the sands below and close to the edge of the river, is an Hindū in the last stage of illness. His friends have carried him down to the sacred stream on a charpāī, (a rude native bed,) and are in the act of making him drink the Ganges water, ere they half immerse his body in the sacred stream. His wife, on the edge of the bed, is weeping, and her dopatta (or veil), is drawn over her face; the Brahman is offering the prayers usual on this occasion.
The Hindūs are extremely anxious to die in sight of the Ganges, that their sins may be washed away in their last moments. A person in his last agonies is frequently carried on his bed, by his friends or relatives, in the coldest or in the hottest weather, from whatever distance, to the river-side, where he lies, if a poor man, without a covering day and night, until he expires. With the pains of death upon him, he is placed up to the middle in water and drenched with it; leaves of the shrub goddess, the sacred tulsī plant, are also put into his mouth, the marks on the pebble god, the Salagram are shown to him, and his relations call upon him to repeat, and repeat for him, the names of Rām, Hurī, Ganga, &c. In some cases the family priest repeats some prayers, and makes an offering to Voitŭrŭnēē, the river over which, they say, the soul is ferried, after leaving the body. The relations of the dying man spread the sediment of the river on his forehead and breast, and afterwards with the finger write on this sediment the name of some deity. If a person should die in his house, and not by the river-side, it is considered as a great misfortune, as he thereby loses the help of the goddess in his last moments. If a person choose to die at home, his memory becomes infamous.
If these unfortunate people recover, after having been exposed by their relatives to die on the banks of the river, they take refuge in the village of Chagdah on the left bank of the Matabangah, forty-six miles from Calcutta, of which people who ought to be corpses, are the sole inhabitants. They are considered to prefer a debased existence to a righteous end, agreeing therein with the highest authorities. Pope’s Homer makes Achilles in the Elysian fields say:—
Solomon deems it better to be a live dog than a dead lion; and Job, called by Byron “the Respectable,” says, “Why should a living man complain?” to which Byron adds, “For no other reason that I can see, except that a dead man cannot.” In the face of these grave authorities the Hindostanī proverb is of a different opinion, which asserts “it is better to die with honour, than live with infamy.”
The passage in the Psalms, “They shall be a portion for foxes,” appears obscure; but give it the probable rendering, “they shall be a portion for jackals;” and then the anathema becomes plain and striking to an Hindū, in whose country the disgusting sight of jackals, devouring human bodies, may be seen every day. The dying who are left by the side of the Ganges, are sometimes devoured alive by these animals in the night.
Lugāo’d, or moored off a sand-bank, is a budjerow, her baggage, and her cook-boat. The crews are cooking and eating their dinners on the sand-bank, and will not recommence their voyage until daybreak, the river being too dangerous to allow of their proceeding further during the hours of darkness. On a clean dry bank in the centre of the Ganges, covered with the finest and most sparkling sand, it is far more agreeable to lugāo your vessel for the night, than on the banks of the river: it is cooler, and you are better defended against thieves; nevertheless a look-out must be kept during the night.
“Shall be likened unto a foolish man, which built his house upon the sand,” &c., (Matt. vii. 26.) The fishermen in Bengal build their huts in the dry season on the beds of sand, from which the river has retired. When the rains set in, which they often do very suddenly, accompanied with violent north-west winds, and the waters pour down in torrents from the mountains, a fine illustration is given of our Lord’s parable: “the rains descended, the floods came, and the winds blew, and beat upon that house, and it fell.” In one night multitudes of these huts are frequently swept away, and the place where they stood is, the next morning, undiscoverable. On one of these occasions a Hindū child was carried down the stream, seated on a part of the roof of a hut, and rescued from destruction at Allahabad. The child could not tell whence she had been carried away by the force of the torrent, nor could the little creature remember the names of her parents.
In some parts of Bengal, whole villages are every now and then swept away by the Ganges when it changes its course. This river frequently runs over districts, from which, a few years before, it was several miles distant. “A nation whose land the rivers have spoiled.” (Isa. xvii. 2.)
The rocky islands of Colgong in the distance are singular and beautiful, there are four of them, of unequal size. Rocks on rocks, covered with fine foliage, they rise in the centre of the river which runs like a mill-sluice, and is extremely broad. They say that no one lives upon these rocks; that a Fakīr formerly took up his abode there, but having been eaten by a snake (an ajgar), one of enormous size, and an eater of human flesh, the people became alarmed; and no holy or unholy person has since taken up their residence on these rocky islands. Small boats fish under the rocks, and snakes, they say, abound upon them: when a gun is fired the echoes awaken and startle the myriads of birds that inhabit them. The proverb says, “The hypocrites of Bhagulpur, the Thags of Kuhulgaon (Colgong), and the bankrupts of Patna are famous.”
The Ganges now presents an extraordinary picture, the expanse of water is very great, interspersed with low sand-banks; the sun is going down, and flocks of wild geese are passing to the other side the river. No human habitations are to be seen, nothing but the expanse of the broad river and its distant banks. After the heat of a day in India the coolness of the evening is most refreshing: the traveller quits his boats, and wanders on the banks of the Ganges, enjoying the wild, the strange beauty, and the quietude of the scene around him, until his attention is aroused by the yells of jackals, and the savage cry of pariah dogs, contesting with vultures, who shriek and flap their heavy wings, to scare the animals from their feast on some dead bullock. Beasts of the forest and birds of prey
they eye the traveller askance: they are too busy to look at him: but when the shades of evening fall, and the friends have left the dead, it may be the dying Hindū, on the banks of the river, trusting, that Ganga will receive him to eternal beatitude, then, in that solitary, that awful hour, the dying man may be awakened from his trance by the sharp tooth of the jackal, and the fierce beak of the vulture! Such is the power of superstition, that the Hindū might rejoice, even at this fearful moment, to end his days by the side of the sacred river, and escape the infamy of seeking refuge at the village of Chagdah.
“Wheresoever the body is, thither will the eagles (or rather the vultures) be gathered together.” (Luke xvii. 37.) The vulture is equally ravenous after dead bodies as the jackal; and it is very remarkable how suddenly these birds appear after the death of an animal in the open field, though a single one may not have been seen on the spot a long time before.
The jackal is considered an incarnation of Dūrga, when she carried the child Krishna over the Jumna, in his flight from King Kansa. The worshippers of the female deities adore the jackal as a form of this goddess, and present offerings to him daily. Every worshipper lays the offering on a clean place in his house, and calls the god to come and partake of it. As this is done at the hour when jackals leave their lurking places, one of these animals sometimes comes and eats the food. In temples dedicated to Dūrga and other deities, a stone image of the jackal is placed on a pedestal and daily worshipped. When a Hindū passes a jackal, he must bow to it; and if it passes on the left hand, it is a most lucky circumstance.
Crocodiles are very numerous in this part of the Ganges: they show themselves continually, swimming low in the water, peering over the edge of a sand-bank, or basking in the sun upon it. Near this place is a village full of a caste of people who live on the flesh of the crocodile; the dāndīs say they understand it smells rank and is very hard. In the evening you sometimes hear a shrill peculiar scream, which the men declare is the cry of the crocodile. When fired at, they slink quietly into the water. The long-nosed crocodile is not so formidable as the snub-nosed alligator: it is said the latter will attack men, the former avoids them if possible. Human bones and ornaments are sometimes found in the interior of these animals. To disagree with a superior, under whose command you may be, is, the natives assert, “To live in the river and be at enmity with the crocodile.”
The appearance of Benares, from the Ganges, is very beautiful. It is covered with buildings to the water’s edge: the architecture of some is Hindū, of others Muhammadan; many of them are of imposing appearance and great picturesque beauty. The magnificent flights of steps called Ghāts, which descend deep into the river, are thronged at all times with people; some fetching water, others washing, and most performing their ablutions in the sacred stream. The view is surprisingly picturesque, and so singular, that no city in Europe can convey an idea of Benares.
For a detailed account of Benares or Bunarus, deriving its name from two streams, the Burna and the Ussee, you may refer to a beautiful work by the late James Prinsep, Esq., who states that the ancient denomination of this city was Kashi, “The splendid,” whereof the fabulous wonders are fully detailed in the Kashi-Khund, one of the chapters of the Skundu-Poorana. According to this mythological history, Kashi is a place of most profound antiquity, sanctity, and splendour: it has survived in age a hundred lives of Brahma, each of whose days is equal to 4,320,000,000 of years; it stands raised from the ground, supported upon the trisūl or trident of Mahadēo, and is never shaken by earthquakes: the whole city was once of pure gold, but has since degenerated into stone and brick.
Bunarus (Sanscrit, Bàrànusee) quasi Burna-Ussee, or from Raja Bunar, who founded the town A.D. 1000. It contains about 600,000 souls—one-fourth Musalmans. The city stands on a high ridge of kankar (nodules of lime stone), free from the floods which sometimes cover all its suburbs. The houses are of stone, from two to six stories high, with terraces on the summit, and open interior courts. The streets are very narrow, from four and a half to nine feet wide, with low doors on each side. The trade is in sugar, cotton, indigo, opium, kimkhwab, jewels, &c.
No building in the town now standing can be traced to a higher antiquity than the time of Man Singh, who was Rāja of Jypoor in the reign of Akbar. Both the temple and the man mundil, or observatory, described by Tavernier, were erected by him. The astronomical instruments were not added until the time of Jy Singh, 1680, more than a century later.
The scene now before you on the left bank of the Ganges represents the holy city commencing from Raj Ghāt, the place at which the steamers from Calcutta are moored, as well as pinnaces and budjerows. The distance from the latter place via the Bhagirathī is 696 miles, and by land or dāk, 428. The civil and military station is about four miles inland. Native merchants bring goods of all descriptions for sale to the steamers and vessels anchored off this ghāt; jewellery, shawls, portraits of the natives, &c. Provisions of all sorts, with wine and beer, are procurable in the city.
The house situated above Raj Ghāt is the hotel that was so recently destroyed, when the fleet of magazine boats containing gunpowder was blown up, the vessels having been moored off this ghāt.
Bruhma Ghāt is ancient, and of irregular form; it derives its name from a temple of Siva, under the title of Brumeswur, “the Lord of Brumha.” The temple and ghāt were repaired (perhaps built) 200 years ago, by the Marhattas, and again recently by the ex-Peshwa Baji Rāo. From the number of Marhatta families residing in the neighbourhood, and the comparative privacy of the spot, it is by courtesy set apart as a bathing-place for their women. They resort hither in groups, with their children and female servants. Their wet garments are shifted with dexterity under a large wrapper, which is also worn over their silk dresses, in passing through the streets. The Brahman of the ghāt is of course a privileged person; he receives a small gratuity for taking care of the clothes, and brass or silver water vessels; he also affixes the tiluk (frontal mark) and pronounces the muntra or morning benediction upon his spiritual daughters.
On this ghāt wood is collected in large piles for sale: “Our wood is sold to us.” (Lamentations v. 4.) The poor Hindū, living in the country never purchases wood for fuel. When such a person removes to a large town, he speaks of it as a great hardship, that he is obliged to buy his very fire-wood.
Benares is considered as the most holy city of India, and it is certainly one of the most picturesque. “A little to eat and to live at Bunarus” is the wish of a pious Hindū; but a residence at this place is rather dangerous to any one inclined to violate the laws.
“Kala-Bhoirāva the Tremendous, is a naked Siva, smeared with ashes; having three eyes, riding on a dog, holding in one hand a horn, and in another a drum. In several places in Bengal this image is daily worshipped. Siva, under this name, is regent of Kāshī (Bunarus). All persons dying at Bunarus are entitled to a place in Siva’s heaven; but if any one violate the laws of the shastrŭ during his residence there, Kalŭ-Bhoirŭvŭ after death grinds him between two millstones.”
The dog carries Kalŭ-Bhoirŭvŭ, a form of Siva, and therefore receives the worship of many Hindūs, whenever his master is worshipped; still he is considered as an unclean animal: every offering which he approaches is considered unacceptable to the gods, and every one who touches him must purify himself by bathing.
The Madhoray Ghāt and musjid or mosque, are now before you—the mosque was erected by Aurunzebe, on the site and with the materials of the temple of Vishnū. The mosque has little architectural beauty to boast of, but the minars have been deservedly admired for their simplicity and boldness of execution. They are only eight and a half feet in diameter at the base, and the breadth decreases to seven and a half feet, while they have an altitude of 147 feet 2 inches, from the terraced floor of the musjid to the kalsā or pinnacle. The terrace is elevated about eighty feet above the river at low water level.
The musjid and the minars were repaired by Mr. James Prinsep—a hazardous undertaking as regarded the latter, for they were both found to incline outwards fifteen inches from the perpendicular. One of them was struck by lightning the very day the scaffolding was removed, but it escaped with the displacement of a stone in the upper cornice. Several instances have occurred of men throwing themselves from the top of the southern minaret. One of them, a man who had gambled away his money and his wife during the Diwâlī:—another, a sailor, who was killed on the spot:—another, a Fakīr, who, falling through the tiles and mat-work of a roof, scraping the flesh from his sides, alighted on the floor beneath, with every bone safe. Such an escape was deemed miraculous; and crowds attended to minister to one so favoured by heaven. The Fakīr disappeared immediately on recovering from his bruises, and sundry solid moveables of his host disappeared with him.
Men, women, and children bathe together, uniting the worship of the Ganges or of the gods with their ablutions, washing their long hair with mud, making clay images for pūjā, (worship), or pouring out libations to their deceased ancestors, whilst the children gambol in the water, or collect clay to assist in making the great image of Bhīm Singh the giant, which is so frequently seen on the side of a ghāt, or that of Hunumān the monkey god. The Hindūs pour out water to the sun, three times a day; and to the moon at the time of worshipping her, which illustrates a passage in Scripture, “To pour out drink-offerings to the queen of heaven.” (Jer. xliv. 17.)
Ghoosla Ghāt unites great solidity with a graceful and appropriate elevation: the double-arched door case in front of the gate has a very rich effect under the strong shadows of midday, giving an artificial magnitude to the entrance, in just proportion to the dimensions of the front. The river rises above the top of the doorway, entering the staircase, and affording a comfortable bath within, where there are convenient recesses on the sides of the steps for the accommodation of bathers.
The ferry-boat is crossing the river laden with camels, buffaloes, and cows.
On the sands in the foreground is the hut of a Baniyā, or grain merchant, from whom the dandīs procure chabenī, the parched grain of Indian corn (maize), also flour for their chappatīs. A group of pilgrims are seated on one side of the hut.
Rajrajeswurree Ghāt, which is seen in the distance, takes its name from an ancient temple of Devī, under the appellation of Rajrajeswurree (“queen of queens”). The title Devī, is usually applied to Bhawanī. The façade of this building is a good specimen of the mixed style of Hindū and Moresque architecture; the former is observable in the lower half of the central compartment; while the projecting stone gallery, with its parapet, tukya mootukka, and the domed octagonal buruj at the two corners, giving relief to the rectangular pavilion in the centre, are seen to be essentially Moorish, from the character of the pillar, and scalloped arch (mehrab).
The man in green is one of a very fine corps of men, called Gardner’s Horse; they were raised by the late Colonel Win. Linnæus Gardner, a most highly distinguished and gallant officer: they are such masters of their horses and weapons, that it is said, single-handed, nothing can resist them; and one of these men, well known in the up-country, was considered to be the finest horseman in India. For an account of Colonel Gardner’s romantic, adventurous, and distinguished life, we refer you to a work lately published, the “Wanderings of a Pilgrim during Four and Twenty Years in the East.”
The two men who next appear belong to Skinner’s Horse, a most efficient irregular corps, taking its name from its gallant colonel, by whom it was raised and stationed at Delhi. Skinner’s Horse rendered important services in the Mahratta and Pindaree campaigns. They are well mounted and appointed, and are an intelligent, fine body of men: with a lance of great length, they are exceedingly expert, and excellent shots with the matchlock, a most unwieldy fire-arm.
A native carriage, called a bilī, drawn by two bullocks, stands in the rear: these decorated carriages are principally used by women in the higher ranks of life; and within the curtains, which are closely drawn and fastened down, a lady is completely protected from the profane gaze of man.
In the distance you now behold the Dusaswumed Ghāt. The mythological legends which give rise to the name of this ghāt and temple, are connected with the story of Divadas’s usurpation of Siva’s kingly authority in Kashī. Siva having sent from heaven the yoginis, or heavenly nymphs, and tried various other stratagems in vain, to turn the earthly monarch aside from virtue, next deputed Brumha himself, who entered the place, disguised as an old Brahman, and obtaining access to the king, received permission from him to perform ten (dus) aswumedha, or horse sacrifices, upon the spot here represented. The horse sacrifice, as described in the purans, is a very curious ceremony. A horse having peculiar colours and qualities is selected, and after a course of pūja (worship), is turned loose upon the world, followed by the sacrificing party, with an armed retinue: if stopped by the sovereign of another country through which the animal may pass, war must be declared, and the interrupter of the sacrifice subdued:—in this way, after traversing the world, the horse returns, and is put to death by suffocation.
The group of natives seated on the ground are a particular cast of Hindūs, who profess to charm serpents, to reduce them to subjection, and to prevent their poison from proving fatal. They roam about the country, carrying a boa constrictor in a basket, which they twine around their necks and display to the passers by. They have also a number of the cobra di capello, which, being placed on the ground, rear themselves up, and, spreading out their hoods, sway themselves about in a fashion which the men call dancing, accompanied by the noise of a little hand-drum. The snake charmers strike the reptiles with their hands, and the snakes bite them repeatedly on their hands as well as on their arms, bringing blood at every bite: although the venomous fangs have been carefully removed, the bite itself must be disagreeable; nevertheless the natives appear not to mind it in the least. At the conclusion of the tamāshā (fun), they catch the cobras and cram them all into gharās (earthen vessels), and carry the boas off in a basket. The snake charmers remind us of the text, “They are like the deaf adder, that stoppeth her ear; which will not hearken to the voice of charmers, charming never so wisely.” (Psalm lviii. 4, 5.)
The two men on the left are pilgrims with holy water. In the cold season of the year, Hindūs from all parts of Upper India, perform pilgrimages to the sacred places on the Ganges: although the stream throughout is considered holy, there are parts of peculiar sanctity, such as Hurdwar, Benares, Allahabad, &c. The roads swarm with devotees; they proceed in large groups, generally well dressed, carrying on their shoulders a large bamboo, supporting at each end a covered basket, containing small stumpy bottles of the thinnest green glass, having long necks: they are filled with Ganges water at the sacred places, and sealed with the seal of the Brahman. These people travel all over the country, selling the sacred water at a high price at the distant stations. Some of the bottles contain a quart; others are not above two inches high; they are of all sizes, and the price varies accordingly. The salutation of these people on passing is, “Ram ram,” or “Bom bom Mahadēo,”—a pilgrim of this class is called a Kanwar-wālā. The men come for this water to place it in their houses for religious and medicinal uses, and sometimes perform a journey on the occasion of five or six months; it is also used in the English courts of justice, in administering an oath to an Hindū. The frames in which the baskets are carried are decorated with feathers of the sacred peacock and small red flags; and every party appears to have one amongst them more ornamented than the rest, with a large arched cover, and numerous bells attached to it.
A jumna-pār goat, so called because these goats are bred on the other side the Junma, is lying on the ground—they are of enormous size, with very broad, long, thin, and silky ears, as soft as velvet. These animals are better adapted for marching than the small Bengalī goat; but unless they can go into the jangal and browse, they become thin and lose their milk.
On the opposite side of the river is the Jellinghy flat and her steamer, returning from Allahabad to Calcutta. The steamer herself is not the vessel in which passengers live; but attached to, and towed by her, is a vessel as large as the steamer herself, called a flat, built expressly to convey passengers and government treasure. It is divided into cabins, with one large cabin in the centre, in which the passengers dine together. The deck is covered with an awning.
The view on the left of the native vessel exemplifies the structure of the ghāts on the water’s edge. The continuity of the line of steps is interrupted by hundreds of stone piers of various forms, which may be classed under three distinct heads: some are merely intended to give solidity to the masonry; others are built for the accommodation of the ghātiyās (ghāt attendants), and gangā-putras (sons of the Ganges), who enjoy hereditary possession of most of the ground between high and low water mark, and whose ancestors have resided on the spot from time immemorial in hereditary attendance upon pilgrims; the third sort consists of mut’hs or small temples, erected at the expense of pilgrims and others: they generally have a flat roof, which serves the ghātiyā as a chabūtāra or terrace to sit and converse upon. The large chatrs, or umbrellas, so numerous on the ghāts, are fixtures, to protect the people from the intense heat of the sun in India.
On the river’s edge are seen one or two murhīs—chambers into which the sick are removed when at the point of death, that their sins, to the last moment of existence, may be washed away by the holy stream.
In the midst of hundreds and hundreds of temples and ghāts, piled one above another on the high cliff, or rising out of the Ganges, the mind is perfectly bewildered: it turns from beauty to beauty, anxious to preserve the memory of each; and the sketcher throws down the pencil in despair. Each ghāt presents a study: the intricate architecture, the elaborate workmanship, the elegance and lightness of form, and the picturesque groups of natives that crowd to their devotions, form as fine a subject for a picture as an artist could select.
How soon Benares, or rather the glory of Benares—its picturesque beauty—will be no more! Since the year 1836 many ghāts and temples have sunk, undermined by the rapid stream which now sets full upon the most beautiful cluster of the temples on its banks: some have been engulphed, some are falling; and ere long, if the Ganges encroach at an equal rate, but little will remain of the glory of the most holy of the Hindū cities.
In the rains, some of the temples are submerged to the cornice; many Hindūs, notwithstanding, are bold enough to swim through an impetuous current, and to dive under the porch and doorway, for the honour of continuing their customary worship despite of perils and personal inconvenience.
Julsyn Ghāt and Raj Bulubh Shīwala are now before you. On the terrace of the latter is a brahmanī bull: these animals walk about the buildings with seeming indifference, ascending the steps, mixing with the crowd, and constantly attending for their food. They are seldom disturbed; but when molested they are vicious, and will use their horns. The rice and flowers offered to the idols are swept up, and for the greater part eaten by the brahmanī bulls. The proverb says:—“At Benares you should be on guard against the women, the sacred bulls, the steps, and the devotees.”
The principal Hindū temples in Benares are crowded with people of both sexes and of all ages, who daily assemble to pay their devotions to the deity of the place, from the hour of eight in the morning until nearly four in the afternoon. The form of worship is very simple: the votary enters the temple and prostrates himself, praying aloud; he then rises and strikes a bell suspended over a form of Mahadēo, thrice repeating the word bom, or hail, at each stroke; then putting a few grains of boiled rice, and a small quantity of milk or oil, or Ganges water, on the Mahadēo, he strews a few flowers over it, and, repeating the same, sometimes adorns the head of the idol with a chaplet of flowers. This ceremony being over, the votary lays down a few cowries, and retires to make room for others. The women generally enter with their garments quite wet, after having performed their ablutions in the Ganges. The quantity of milk, oil, water, and flowers, thrown about the place, renders it dirty and wet until the evening, when, the crowd retiring, the Brahmans clean the temple for the next day.
The music and bells of a hundred temples strike the ear amidst the buzz of human voices; at the same time the eye rests on the vivid colours of different groups of male and female bathers, with their sparkling brass vessels, or follows the holy bulls as they wander in the crowds munching the chaplets of flowers liberally presented to them. Then, as night steals on, the scene changes, and the twinkling of lamps along the water’s edge, and the funeral fires and white curling smoke, and the stone buildings lit up by the moon, present features of variety and blended images of animation, which it is out of the artist’s power to embody.
The large building that now appears is on Oomraogir’s pushta or ghāt. On the exterior of the building is a mut’h, an Hindu temple, dedicated to Ganesh, the god of wisdom, and the patron of literature. In pūja this idol is invoked ere any other god is worshipped. Ere a pious Hindū commence any sort of writing he makes the sign of Ganesh at the top of the page. With the simplicity of the child he unites the wisdom of the elephant: his writing is beautiful, “Behold! he writes like Ganesh!” Who can say more? He is called two mothered, uniting the elephant’s head to his natural body, therefore having a second mother in the elephant. The worshippers pour oil and the holy Ganges water over the head of this god, who is thus bathed daily; and offerings of boiled rice and flowers are made at the time of prayer. Around the idol are placed the vessels used in pūja, brass bells, the conch shell, the holy spoons, flowers, &c. In the Museum is a solid white marble image of Ganesh, which weighs 3¼ cwt. For a further account of this idol, see the frontispiece, and the Introduction to the “Wanderings of a Pilgrim during Four and Twenty Years in the East.”
The Fākir seated on the ghāt is one in the highest stage of exaltation, in which clothing is almost dispensed with, and his only garment is a chatr, an umbrella made of basket work: his long hair and his beard, matted with cow-dung and ashes, hang in stiff straight locks to his waist, his body is smeared with ashes; he always remains on the same spot, and when suffering from illness, a bit of tattered blanket is thrown over him. Passers by throw cowries and grains of boiled rice at his feet, he remains speechless, disregards all visible objects, asks for nothing, but subsists on alms. He will not answer any question addressed to him, which elucidates the proverb: “Talking to a man in ecstasy (of a religious nature) is like beating curds with a pestle.” Persons in this state affirm that their minds do not wander after worldly things, that they live in a state of pleasure, abstraction, and joy, and that they have attained to that state of perfection required by the shastrs. His red flag is displayed from a bamboo, below which is a small lantern made of coloured ubruk or talc; sometimes the lamp is formed of clay, pierced through with fret-work in remarkably pretty patterns. The Hindūs suspend lamps in the air on bamboos in honour of the gods during a particular month, and in obedience to the shastrs. The offering of lamps to particular gods is an act of merit, so this offering to all the gods, during the auspicious month, is supposed to secure many benefits to the giver. Lamps suspended from bamboos are also indicative of the ceremony in honour of Ananta, the great serpent.
On another bamboo is displayed the trisūl or trident of Mahadēo, and a small double-headed hand-drum, shaped like an hour-glass, called damaru, used by Fakīrs; and in front by the side of the Devotee, is an altar, or pillar, hollowed at the top, containing the sacred tulsī plant (ocimum sanctum) purple stalked basil. This plant is worshipped in honour of a religious female who requested Vishnu to allow her to become his wife. Lukshmī, the goddess of beauty, and wife of Vishnu, cursed the woman on account of the pious request she had preferred to her lord, and changed her into a tulsī plant. Vishnu, in consideration of the religious austerities long practised by the enamoured devotee, made her a promise that he would assume the form of the shalgram, and always continue with her. If one of these sacred plants die, it is committed in due form to Ganga-jee: and when a person is brought to die by the side of the sacred river, a branch of the tulsī, the shrub-goddess, is planted near the dying man’s head, and the marks upon the shalgram are shown to him. This pebble god is a small heavy black circular stone, rather flattened on one side, with the cornu ammonis strongly marked upon it. Devotees walk round the sacred plant, pour water upon it, and make salām. Of an evening a little chirāgh, a small lamp, is burned before it. In the courts of justice the Hindū swears by the Ganges water on which is placed a branch of the tulsī.
A brahmanī bull is going up to the idol Ganesh, expecting a share of the flowers that are offered to the image. In the distance a band of pilgrims are coming down to fill their baskets with holy water; and in the foreground is a picturesque figure, also a carrier of holy water, which is put into small sealed bottles placed in baskets suspended from a bamboo poised on his shoulder, over which is a covering of red cloth.
A tank of peculiar sanctity is now before you, on the steps of which men are ascending and descending: it is called the Chakra kunda, and its history is as follows:—“After one of the periodical destructions and renovations of the world, Siva and his bride were alone in the ananda-vana, or happy forest, occupying the present site of Munikarniká, they found, as man and wife may sometimes do, that their tête á tête was growing dull, and to vary the party, Siva created Vishnu. After a while, the married pair wished again for privacy and withdrew into the forest, desiring Vishnu to amuse himself by doing what was fit and proper; which, after some consideration, he judged to be a supply of water for the irrigation of the trees, and with his chakra, or discus, he dug a hole, which he filled with the ambrosial perspiration from his body, induced by his hard work; and the pool so dug and filled, has remained a spot of peculiar sanctity, termed, from the chakra, or discus, chakra kunda, or chakra puskkarnī, discus-pond. When Siva returned and saw what Vishnu had done, he nodded his head in approbation so energetically, that the jewel (mani) of one of his ear-rings (karniká) fell off, and the place was thenceforth called Manikarnika.” (See Kasi Khand, Part I. chap. 26).
A Brahman sitting beneath a porch is reading aloud, with his book on his knees, and bending his body backwards and forwards as he reads.
Beneath the shade of a fine pīpal tree (ficus religiosa) is a four-headed and holy piece of sculpture, with the bull (nandī) reposing before it; also another singularly sculptured stone representing two heads, their bodies formed of snakes entwined. The pīpal is universally sacred: the Hindūs are seen in the early morning putting flowers in pūja at the foot of the tree, and pouring water on its roots. They worship the idols placed beneath it in a similar manner, and they believe that a god resides in every leaf, who delights in the music of their rustling, and their tremulous motion.
Near this place is the spot on which the dead are burned; it is dedicated to Vishnu, as Jalsāī, or “sleeper on the waters;” and there, many a Hindu widow has devoted herself to the flames with the corpse of her husband. In the Museum is a brazen image of Jalsāī floating on Anantā, the great serpent.
In the Bengalī schools a boy learns his letters by writing them, never by pronouncing the alphabet, as in Europe; he first writes them on the ground with a stick, or his fingers; next with an iron style, or a reed, on a palm-leaf; and next on a green plantain-leaf. The Bengalī schoolmasters punish with a cane, or a rod made of the branch of a tree; sometimes a truant is compelled to stand on one leg, holding up a brick in each hand, or to have his arms stretched out, until he is completely tired. Almost all the villages contain common schools. The allowance to the schoolmasters is very small: for the first year’s education, about a penny a month, and a day’s provisions; when a boy writes on the palm-leaf, twopence a month; after this, as the boy advances in learning, as much as fourpence or eightpence a month is given. There are no schools for girls among the Hindūs. “Jesus stooped down, and with his finger wrote upon the ground.” (John viii. 6). Schools for children are frequently held under trees in Bengal, and the children who are beginning to learn, write the letters of the alphabet in the dust. This saves pens, ink, and paper. “The sin of Judah is written with a pen of iron.” (Jeremiah xvii. 1). The letters are formed by making incisions on the palm-leaf: these books are very durable.
The scene now represents the gyan-bapī, or the well of knowledge, which is regarded as peculiarly sacred by the Hindūs, and it is related that it was dug by Isana with his trisūl, or trident, when he was wandering about Kashī. One of the officiating Brahmans is seen receiving the offerings of rice, &c. from a party of pilgrims, just about to commence the circuit of the temples. If a rich Hindū present any thing to an inferior, the latter, as a mark of respect, puts it on his head. An offering of cloth, for instance, received at a temple, the receiver not only places on his head, but binds it there. The rice and flowers were formerly thrown into the well; but they rendered the water so putrid, that a defence of planks has been since put up to prevent it. The man near the gyan-bapī carrying a staff, is a dŭndī fakīr. This name is given because these devotees receive a staff (dŭndŭ) when they first enter this order. The Brahmans, on meeting one, prostrate themselves before him. The dŭndī shaves his head and beard every four months. He travels with a staff in one hand, and an alms-dish in the other; he does not beg or cook his food, but is a guest at the houses of the Brahmans. The ceremonies to which this order attend, are, repeating the names of Vishnŭ, bathing once a day, and, with closed eyes, meditating on the attributes of the god by the side of the river. When about to bathe, they besmear themselves all over with the mud of the Ganges. The dŭndīs do not burn, but bury their dead, repeating certain forms of prayer.
In front of a beautiful Muhammadan Mosque a group is assembled around an Hindostanī juggler, with his goat, two monkeys, and several bits of wood, made in the shape of an hour-glass. The first piece he places on the ground, the goat ascends it, and balances herself on the top: the man by degrees places another bit of wood on the edge of the former; the goat ascends and retains her balance: a third piece, in like manner, is placed on the top of the former two pieces; the goat ascends from the two former, a monkey is placed on her back, and she still preserves her balance. The man keeps time with a sort of musical instrument, which he holds in his right hand, and sings a wild song to aid the goat: without the song and the measured time, they say the goat could not perform the balance. A grass-cutter is looking on: he has just returned from cutting a bundle of dūb-grass: every horse in India has his sāīs, or groom, and his grass-cutter. When a beautiful begam (a native princess) is suffering from the pangs of jealousy, she often exclaims, “I wish I were married to a grass-cutter!” because a man of that class is too poor to be able to keep two wives.
The man on the right is a religious mendicant, a disciple of Siva. When this portrait was taken, his long black hair, matted with cow-dung, was twisted like a turban round his head: he was dreadfully lean, almost a skeleton. His left arm had been held erect so long, that the flesh had withered, and the skin clung round the bones most frightfully; the nails of the hand, which had been kept immoveably clenched, had pierced through the palm, and grew out at the back of the hand, like the long claws of a bird of prey. His skeleton arm was encircled by a twisted stick, the stem perhaps of a thick creeper, the end of which was cut into the shape of the head of the cobra di capello, with its hood displayed; and the twisted withy looked like the body of the reptile wreathed around his horrible arm. His only garment was the skin of a tiger, thrown over his shoulders, and a bit of rag and rope. He was of a dirty ashen colour from mud and paint; perhaps in imitation of Siva, who, when he appeared on earth as a naked mendicant of an ashy colour, was recognized as Mahadēo, the great god. This man was considered a very holy person. His right hand contained an empty gourd and a small rosary, and two long rosaries were around his neck of the rough beads called mundrāsī. Acts of severity towards the body, practised by religious mendicants, are not done as penances for sin, but as works of extraordinary merit, promising large rewards in a future state. The Byragī is not a penitent, but a proud ascetic.
A very small and beautifully-formed ginī (a dwarf cow) was with him. She was decorated with crimson cloth, embroidered with cowrie shells, and a plume of peacocks’ feathers as a jika, rose from the top of her head. A brass bell was on her neck, and around her legs were anklets of the same metal. Many Fakīrs lead these little dwarf cows about the country, they are fat and sleek, and considered so holy that they will not sell them.
A barber sitting on a ghāt, is shaving an Hindū, he makes use of water, but not of soap, while he shaves all round the head, leaving a tuft of hair in the middle of the back of the head, which is commonly tied in a knot. Shaving is usually done under a small shed or a tree, very often in the street or road.
We have now given as many views of Benares as it is possible to introduce within the limits of our Diorama, and we take leave of the holy city with regret. The Vedas and Shastrs all testify that “Viswaswara is the first of Devas, Kashī (Benares) the first of cities, Gangā the first of rivers, and charity the first of virtues.” Vishveshvur, “Lord of the Universe,” is one of the most exalted titles of Siva.
The scene now represents Chunar, a fortress of considerable natural strength, situated on an insulated rock, about 150 feet high, forming the extremity of a low range of hills, on the right bank of the Ganges, about eighteen miles from Benares. In December, 1765, the Company’s troops, commanded by Major Pemble, stormed the place, and were repulsed with severe loss. The defences were irregular, following the outline of the eminence on which they were erected: several heavy batteries were mounted on the ramparts; but the native garrison trusted more to the inaccessible nature of the approach, and to the facilities it possessed for rolling down stones upon any assailants,—of which missiles, a large supply was always held in readiness on the ramparts. The fortress was again invested, and on the 8th of February, 1765, the Killadar of the Fort surrendered the keys to Major Stibbert. It is an invalid station, although not reckoned a healthy spot, owing to the great heat arising from the stone: it completely commands the river, and is used as a place of confinement for state-prisoners. Snakes are numerous, and boys bring the cobra di capello for sale to boats. In the Magazine is a large black slab, on which the deity of the Fort is said to be ever present, with the exception of from daybreak until the hour of nine A.M., during which time he is at Benares. Tradition asserts, that the Fort would never have been taken by the English, but for the absence of their god Burtreenath.
A little above the Fort is a temple: tradition states it to contain a chest, which cannot be opened, unless the party opening it lose his hand—four thieves having so suffered once in an attempt upon it. It is also recorded, that the deified giant Bhīm Singh, built the fortress of Chunar in one day, and rendered it impregnable.
A native has just succeeded in crossing the river on a bundle of reeds; his clothes placed on the top of his head are safe from wet, and with one hand he paddles along. On the outskirts of the village is seen a remarkably ancient Banyan-tree, the Ficus Indica.
In front of the tomb of a Pīr (a Muhammadan saint), three followers of the prophet are at their devotions. A Shāmiyāna, or awning, screens the tomb from the sun and rain: the standards of Hussan and Hussein are displayed, and daily coloured lanterns are suspended from the top of high bamboos.
A woman is sticking cakes of cow-dung on the wall to dry for fuel. This article, called oplā, is generally used by the poorer classes; 1280 cakes are sold for a rupee: when well prepared and dried it blazes like wood. On the right is a fine Persian wheel: the water is brought up in gharas, red earthen vessels fastened round its circumference; it is worked by two bullocks, and gives an abundant supply. A wheel of this sort is perhaps superior to any other method of drawing water.
Mirzapūr is a military cantonment, famous for its beautiful ghāts, and noted for its carpet manufactory and cotton mart. Some remarkably picturesque Hindū temples are on the ghāts, with fine trees in the back ground. The cliff is abrupt, and the river is always crowded with vessels full of merchandise: steamers having plenty of cargo to land are generally detained here four or five hours. Mirzapūr is from Calcutta, via Bhagirathī, 748 miles, and by dāk route, 455.
The scene before you is very singular; it represents the finale of the Kalī-pūjā festival: the goddess is seen on a platform in the boat in the foreground, covered by an awning, and adorned with flags: on the steps of the ghāt, a similar image is being put into a boat, and from every part of the city the worshippers are bringing forth the idols. One of the boats is towed by a dinghī, in which they are firing a feu de joie from a matchlock.
In the house of the Bengalī babū you beheld a nāch, and the worship of the goddess Dūrga, a yellow woman, with ten arms. You have now before you another form of the same Hindū deity, under the name of Kalī, the black, the terrific. When this goddess is worshipped in the month of May, it is called the Phuluharī festival, on account of the quantity of fruits and flowers offered to the idol at this particular season: animals are sacrificed in her honour, and jack fruit and mangoes are presented to her in that particular month.
The day after the worship, the people carry the goddess in state to the river, and place the image on a platform, between two boats; the worshippers, attended by the discordant music of tom-toms (native drums) and horns, row the image out into the stream, and sink her in the deep waters: the women weep and utter lamentations on parting with the idol.
This goddess is represented as a black woman, with four arms: in one hand she carries a scimitar, one is bestowing a blessing, another forbids fear, and the fourth holds the head of the giant whom she slew.
She wears a necklace of skulls, her tongue hangs out of her mouth, her jet-black hair falls to her heels. Having drunk the blood of the giants she slew, her eyebrows are bloody, and the blood is falling in a stream down her breast: her eyes are red, like those of a drunkard: she stands trampling on her husband Siva. Kālī had a contest with the giant Ravŭna, which lasted ten years: having conquered him, she became mad with joy, and her dancing shook the earth to its centre. To restore the peace of the world, Siva, her husband, threw himself amongst the dead bodies at her feet. She continued her dancing, and trampled upon him. When she discovered her husband, she stood still, horror-struck and ashamed, and threw out her tongue to an uncommon length; by this means Siva stopped her frantic dancing, and saved the universe. “The Philistine cursed David by his gods.” A Hindū sometimes in a fit of anger, says to his enemy, “The goddess Kalī shall devour thee; may Dūrga destroy thee!”
The picturesque ghāt of Sirsya is in the distance, in front of which is an enormous boat, called a Kutcher, or Kutchuā; the bows and the stern are both square. A vessel of this description has frequently two rudders, like the one before you. It is laden with bales of cotton, which extend, supported on bamboos, far beyond each side of the boat. The next vessel is a large patailī, called a ghor-daul, or ghora-wal, because the bows are ornamented with a horse’s head. She is laden with salt.
In the foreground is a timber raft, one of the most picturesque objects to be seen on the Ganges. The men who accompany the raft have a strangely wild appearance; fresh from the jangal, they come down with the floating timber for scarcely any payment, just enough to feed them. They are small in stature, their skins are very dark, they shave the head completely, and their bodies are all but naked. They direct the course of the raft with long bamboos; a small thatch is erected upon her, under which they creep, and there they sleep. A picture in itself is the wild, strange-looking timber raft, which is generally decorated with two or three small red flags, and is always accompanied by a very small, narrow canoe, hollowed out of the trunk of a tree.
The fortress of Allahabad was built by Akbar Shah in 1581. On the 11th February, 1765, the governor of the fort, Alī Beg Khan, surrendered it to the Company’s troops, under the command of Major Fletcher, and marched out with his garrison, under safe conduct. Thus in one week Chunar and Allahabad, the two most important fortresses in Shuja-oo-Dowlah’s possession, fell without loss into the hands of the English.
The fortress is erected upon a point of land, stretching out into the waters at the junction of the sacred rivers. One of the holiest places on the Ganges is pointed out by numerous flags at the spot where it joins the Jumna, just below the fort. The Saraswati is supposed to unite with them underground, whence the junction is called Trivenī, or Tribenī. This spot is so holy, that a person dying there is certain of immediate moskh, or beatitude, without risk of further transmigration. The blue waters of the Jumna contrast strongly at the junction with the muddy hue of the waters of the Ganges. On the sands below the fort, the Bura Mela, or great fair, is held annually; it lasts about two months, and attracts devotees and merchants from all parts of India. At that period, also, lākhs and lākhs of natives come to Prag; they make pūja, shave, give money to the Fakīrs, and bathe at the sacred junction. Suicide committed at the Benī is meritorious in persons of a certain caste, but a sin for a Brahman! The ancient city of Prag, acquired the name of Allahabad from the Musalmān conquerors of India.
The buildings occupied by Shah Allum when he resided in the fort, still retain traces of their former grandeur, and some of the apartments command a fine view of the Jumna that flows beneath. An enormous pillar, formerly prostrate near the gateway in the fort, has been set up on a pedestal, under the superintendence of the late Colonel Edward Smith. The natives call it Bhīm Singh ké lāt, that is, Bhīm Singh’s walking-stick: some of the inscriptions on the lāt are in unknown characters—those of the mighty dead, who have disappeared from the earth, leaving records imperishable, but incomprehensible.
The steam vessels and tugs which navigate the Ganges from Calcutta terminate their voyage at Allahabad.