I do not breathe just now, and so I am perfectly
safe.
But soon I shall have to fill up my breast again with fresh
air, and then I will hold on to the post, otherwise I should fall."
After this astounding physiological information, we parted. He
would not talk any more, evidently fearing to endanger his comfort.
At that time, we did not receive any more explanations on the subject,
but this incident was enough to disturb the scientific equanimity
of our minds.
Till then, we were so naive as to fancy that only sturgeons and
similar aquatic acrobats were clever enough to learn how to fill
up their insides with air in order to become lighter, and to rise
to the surface of the water. What is possible to a sturgeon is
impossible to man, speculated we in our ignorance. So we agreed
to look upon the revelation of the above described "uncle" in the
light of a brag, having no other aim but to chaff the "white sahibs."
In those days, we were still inexperienced, and inclined to resent
this kind of information, as coming very near to mockery. But,
later on, we learned that his description of the process necessary
to keep up this birdlike posture was perfectly accurate. In Jubblepore
we saw much greater wonders. Strolling along the river bank, we
reached the so-called Fakirs' Avenue; and the Takur invited us to
visit the courtyard of the pagoda. This is a sacred place, and
neither Europeans nor Mussulmans are admitted inside. But Gulab-Sing
said something to the chief Brahman, and we entered without hindrance.
The yard was full of devotees, and of ascetics. But our attention
was especially attracted by three ancient, perfectly naked fakirs.
As wrinkled as baked mushrooms, as thin as skeletons, crowned with
twisted masses of white hair, they sat or rather stood in the most
impossible postures, as we thought. One of them, literally leaning
only on the palm of his right hand, was poised with his head downwards
and his legs upwards; his body was as motionless as if he were the
dry branch of a tree. Just a little above the ground his head rose
in the most unnatural position, and his eyes were fixed on the
glaring sun. I cannot guarantee the truthfulness of some talkative
inhabitants of the town, who had joined our party, and who assured
us that this fakir daily spends in this posture all the hours between
noon and the sunset. But I can guarantee that not a muscle of his
body moved during the hour and twenty minutes we spent amongst the
fakirs. Another fakir stood on a "sacred stone of Shiva," a small
stone about five inches in diameter. One of his legs was curled
up under him, and the whole of his body was bent backwards into
an arc; his eyes also were fixed on the sun. The palms of his
hands were pressed together as if in prayer.
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