"Why should you be so frightened?"
"A tiger! Was it not a tiger?" came in hasty, questioning tones
from Europeans and Hindus.
Miss X - - trembled like one stricken with fever. "Whether it was
a tiger, or something else, matters very little to us now. Whatever
it was, it is, by this time, at the bottom of the abyss," answered
the Rajput yawning.
"I wonder the Government does not destroy all these horrid animals,"
sobbed poor Miss X - -, who evidently believed firmly in the omnipotence
of her Executive.
"But how did you get rid of the `striped one'?" insisted the colonel.
"Has anyone fired a shot?"
"You Europeans think that shooting is, if not the only, at least
the best way to get rid of wild animals. We possess other means,
which are sometimes more efficacious than guns," explained Babu
Narendro-Das Sen. "Wait until you come to Bengal, there you will
have many opportunities to make acquaintance with the tigers."
It was now getting light, and Gulab-Sing proposed to us to descend
and examine the rest of the caves and the ruins of a fortress
before the day became too hot, so, at half-past three, we went by
another and easier way to the valley, and, happily, this time we
had no adventures. The Mahratti did not accompany us. He disappeared
without informing us whither he was going.
- - - - -
We saw Logarh, a fortress which was captured by Sivaji from the
Moguls in 1670, and the ruins of the hall, where the widow of Nana
Farnavese, under the pretext of an English protectorate, became
de facto the captive of General Wellesley in 1804, with a yearly
pension of 12,000 rupees. We then started for the village of Vargaon,
once fortified and still very rich. We were to spend the hottest
hours of the day there, from nine in the morning until four in the
afternoon, and proceed afterwards to the historical caves of Birsa
and Badjah, about three miles from Karli.
At about two P.M. when, in spite of the huge punkahs waving to and
fro, we were grumbling at the heat, appeared our friend the Mahratta
Brahman, whom we thought we had lost on the way. Accompanied by
half-a-dozen Daknis (inhabitants 0f the Dekhan plateau) he was
slowly advancing, seated almost on the ears of his horse, which
snorted and seemed very unwilling to move. When he reached the
verandah and jumped down, we saw the reason of his disappearance.
Across the saddle was tied a huge tiger, whose tail dragged in
the dust. There were traces of dark blood in his half opened mouth.
He was taken from the horse and laid down by the doorstep.
Was it our visitor of the night before? I looked at Gulab-Sing.
He lay on a rug in a corner, resting his head on his hand and reading.
He knitted his brows slightly, but did not say a word. The Brahman
who had just brought the tiger was very silent too, watching over
certain preparations, as if making ready for some solemnity. We
soon learned that, in the eyes of a superstitious people, what was
about to happen was a solemnity indeed.
A bit of hair cut from the skin of a tiger that has been killed,
neither by bullet, nor by knife, but by a "word," is considered
the best of all talismans against his tribe.
"This is a very rare opportunity," explained the Mahratti. "It is
very seldom that one meets with a man who possesses the word.
Yogis and Sadhus do not generally kill wild animals, thinking it
sinful to destroy any living creature, be it even a cobra or a tiger,
so they simply keep out of the way of noxious animals. There exists
only one brotherhood in India whose members possess all secrets,
and from whom nothing in nature is concealed. Here is the body
of the tiger to testify that the animal was not killed with a weapon
of any kind, but simply by the word of Gulab-Lal-Sing. I found it,
very easily, in the bushes exactly under our vihara, at the foot
of the rock over which the tiger had rolled, already dead. Tigers
never make false steps. Gulab-Lal-Sing, you are a Raj-Yogi, and
I salute you!" added the proud Brahman, kneeling before the Takur.
"Do not use vain words, Krishna Rao!" interrupted Gulab-Sing.
"Get up; do not play the part of a Shudra."
"I obey you, Sahib, but, forgive me, I trust my own judgment. No
Raj-Yogi ever yet acknowledged his connection with the brotherhood,
since the time Mount Abu came into existence."
And he began distributing bits of hair taken from the dead animal.
No one spoke, I gazed curiously at the group of my fellow-travelers.
The colonel, President of our Society, sat with downcast eyes,
very pale. His secretary, Mr. Y - -, lay on his back, smoking a
cigar and looking straight above him, with no expression in his eyes.
He silently accepted the hair and put it in his purse. The Hindus
stood round the tiger, and the Sinhalese traced mysterious signs
on its forehead. Gulab-Sing continued quietly reading his book.
- - - - - - -
The Birza cave, about six miles from Vargaon, is constructed on
the same plan as Karli. The vault-like ceiling of the temple rests
upon twenty-six pillars, eighteen feet high, and the portico on four,
twenty-eight feet high; over the portico are carved groups of horses,
oxen, and elephants, of the most exquisite beauty. The "Hall of
Initiation" is a spacious, oval room, with pillars, and eleven very
deep cells cut in the rock. The Bajah caves are older and more
beautiful. Inscriptions may still be seen showing that all these
temples were built by Buddhists, or, rather, by Jainas.
