But There Exists A Very
Strange Superstition In The Deccan About This Mysterious, And Only
Partially Explored, Mountain.
The natives assert that, in spite
of the considerable number of victims, there has never been found
a single skeleton.
The corpse, whether intact or mangled by tigers,
is immediately carried away by the monkeys, who, in the latter case,
gather the scattered bones, and bury them skillfully in deep holes,
that no traces ever remain. Englishmen laugh at this superstition,
but the police do not deny the fact of the entire disappearance
of the bodies. When the sides of the mountain were excavated,
in the course of the construction of the railway, separate bones,
with the marks of tigers' teeth upon them, broken bracelets, and
other adornments, were found at an incredible depth from the surface.
The fact of these things being broken showed clearly that they
were not buried by men, because, neither the religion of the Hindus,
nor their greed, would allow them to break and bury silver and gold.
Is it possible, then, that, as amongst men one hand washes the other,
so in the animal kingdom one species conceals the crimes of another?
Having spent the night in a Portuguese inn, woven like an eagle's
nest out of bamboos, and clinging to the almost vertical side of
a rock, we rose at daybreak, and, having visited all the points
de vue famed for their beauty, made our preparations to return to
Narel. By daylight the panorama was still more splendid than by
night; volumes would not suffice to describe it. Had it not been
that on three sides the horizon was shut out by rugged ridges of
mountain, the whole of the Deccan plateau would have appeared before
our eyes. Bombay was so distinct that it seemed quite near to us,
and the channel that separates the town from Salsetta shone like
a tiny silvery streak. It winds like a snake on its way to the
port, surrounding Kanari and other islets, which look the very
image of green peas scattered on the white cloth of its bright
waters, and, finally, joins the blinding line of the Indian Ocean
in the extreme distance. On the outer side is the northern Konkan,
terminated by the Tal-Ghats, the needle-like summits of the Jano-Maoli
rocks, and, lastly, the battlemented ridge of Funell, whose bold
silhouette stands out in strong relief against the distant blue
of the dim sky, like a giant's castle in some fairy tale. Further
on looms Parbul, whose flat summit, in the days of old, was the
seat of the gods, whence, according to the legends, Vishnu spoke
to mortals. And there below, where the defile widens into a valley,
all covered with huge separate rocks, each of which is crowded
with historical and mythological legends, you may perceive the
dim blue ridge of mountains, still loftier and still more strangely
shaped. That is Khandala, which is overhung by a huge stone block,
known by the name of the Duke's Nose. On the opposite side, under
the very summit of the mountain, is situated Karli, which, according
to the unanimous opinion or archeologists, is the most ancient
and best preserved of Indian cave temples.
One who has traversed the passes of the Caucasus again and again;
one who, from the top of the Cross Mountain, has beheld beneath
her feet thunderstorms and lightnings; who has visited the Alps
and the Rigi; who is well acquainted with the Andes and Cordilleras,
and knows every corner of the Catskills in America, may be allowed,
I hope, the expression of a humble opinion. The Caucasian Mountains,
I do not deny, are more majestic than Ghats of India, and their
splendour cannot be dimmed by comparison with these; but their
beauty is of a type, if I may use this expression. At their sight
one experiences true delight, but at the same time a sensation of awe.
One feels like a pigmy before these Titans of nature. But in India,
the Himalayas excepted, mountains produce quite a different impression.
The highest summits of the Deccan, as well as of the triangular
ridge that fringes Northern Hindostan, and of the Eastern Ghats,
do not exceed 3,000 feet. Only in the Ghats of the Malabar coast,
from Cape Comorin to the river Surat, are there heights of 7,000
feet above the surface of the sea. So that no comparison can be
dawn between these and the hoary headed patriarch Elbruz, or Kasbek,
which exceeds 18,000 feet. The chief and original charm of
Indian mountains wonderfully consists in their capricious shapes.
Sometimes these mountains, or, rather, separate volcanic peaks
standing in a row, form chains; but it is more common to find
them scattered, to the great perplexity of geologists, without
visible cause, in places where the formation seems quite unsuitable.
Spacious valleys, surrounded by high walls of rock, over the very
ridge of which passes the railway, are common. Look below, and
it will seem to you that you are gazing upon the studio of some
whimsical Titanic sculptor, filled with half finished groups,
statues, and monuments. Here is a dream-land bird, seated upon
the head of a monster six hundred feet high, spreading its wings
and widely gaping its dragon's mouth; by its side the bust of a
man, surmounted by a helmet, battlemented like the walls of a
feudal castle; there, again, new monsters devouring each other,
statues with broken limbs, disorderly heaps of huge balls, lonely
fortresses with loopholes, ruined towers and bridges. All this
scattered and intermixed with shapes changing incessantly like the
dreams of delirium. And the chief attraction is that nothing here
is the result of art, everything is the pure sport of Nature, which,
however, has occasionally been turned to account by ancient builders.
The art of man in India is to be sought in the interior of the earth,
not on its surface. Ancient Hindus seldom built their temples
otherwise than in the bosom of the earth, as though they were
ashamed of their efforts, or did not dare to rival the sculpture
of nature.
Enter page number
PreviousNext
Page 17 of 95
Words from 16260 to 17286
of 96531
