Unable To Bring The God Surya From His Heavenly
Altar And Wash Him In The Sacred Font, Sham Rao Contented Himself
By Filling His Own Mouth With Water, Standing On One Leg, And
Spirting This Water Towards The Sun.
Needless to say it never
reached the orb of day, but, very unexpectedly, sprinkled us instead.
- - - - - - -
It is still a mystery to us why the plant tulsi, Royal Basilicum,
is worshipped. However, towards the end of September we yearly
witnessed the strange ceremony of the wedding of this plant with
the god Vishnu, notwithstanding that tulsi bears the title of
Krishna's bride, probably because of the latter being an incarnation
of Vishnu. On these occasions pots of this plant are painted and
adorned with tinsel. A magical circle is traced in the garden
and the plant is put in the middle of it. A Brahman brings an
idol of Vishnu and begins the marriage ceremony, standing before
the plant. A married couple hold a shawl between the plant and
the god, as if screening them from each other, the Brahman utters
prayers, and young women, and especially unmarried girls, who
are the most ardent worshippers of tulsi, throw rice and saffron
over the idol and the plant. When the ceremony is concluded, the
Brahman is presented with the shawl, the idol is put in the shade
of his wife, the Hindus clap their hands, rend everyone's ears
with the noise of tom-toms, let off fireworks, offer each other
pieces of sugar-cane, and rejoice in every conceivable way till
the dawn of the next day.
A Witch's Den
Our kind host Sham Rao was very gay during the remaining hours of
our visit. He did his best to entertain us, and would not hear
of our leaving the neighborhood without having seen its greatest
celebrity, its most interesting sight. A jadu wala - sorceress -
well known in the district, was just at this time under the
influence of seven sister-goddesses, who took possession of her
by turns, and spoke their oracles through her lips. Sham Rao said
we must not fail to see her, be it only in the interests of science.
The evening closes in, and we once more get ready for an excursion.
It is only five miles to the cavern of the Pythia of Hindostan;
the road runs through a jungle, but it is level and smooth. Besides,
the jungle and its ferocious inhabitants have ceased to frighten us.
The timid elephants we had in the "dead city" are sent home, and
we are to mount new behemoths belonging to a neighboring Raja.
The pair, that stand before the verandah like two dark hillocks,
are steady and trust worthy. Many a time these two have hunted
the royal tiger, and no wild shrieking or thunderous roaring can
frighten them. And so, let us start!
The ruddy flames of the torches dazzle our eyes and increase the
forest gloom. Our surroundings seem so dark, so mysterious. There
is something indescribably fascinating, almost solemn, in these
night-journeys in the out-of-the-way corners of India.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 103 of 187
Words from 52989 to 53506
of 96531
