This sorrowful, poetical allegory made us feel very keenly for
the poor old man; but, however great our sympathy, we could not
but suppose that probably the woes of the maiden Ganga do not
affect her sources. In Hardwar the color of Ganges is crystal
aqua marina, and the waters run gaily murmuring to the shore-reeds
about the wonders they saw on their way from the Himalayas.
The beautiful river is the greatest and the purest of goddesses,
in the eyes of the Hindus; and many are the honors given to her
in Hardwar. Besides the Mela celebrated once every twelve years,
there is a month in every year when the pilgrims flock together
to the Harika-Paira, stairs of Vishnu. Whosoever succeeds in
throwing himself first into the river, at the appointed day, hour
and moment, will not only expiate all his sins, but also have all
bodily sufferings removed. This zeal to be first is so great that,
owing to a badly-constructed and narrow stair leading to the water,
it used to cost many lives yearly, until, in 1819, the East India
Company, taking pity upon the pilgrims, ordered this ancient relic
to be removed, and a new stairway, one hundred feet wide, and
consisting of sixty steps, to be constructed.
The month when the waters of the Ganges are most salutary, falls,
according to the Brahmanical computation, between March 12th and
April 10th, and is called Chaitra. The worst of it is that the
waters are at their best only at the first moment of a certain
propitious hour, indicated by the Brahmans, and which sometimes
happens to be midnight. You can fancy what it must be when this
moment comes, in the midst of a crowd which exceeds two millions.
In 1819 more than four hundred people were crushed to death. But
even after the new stairs were constructed, the goddess Ganga has
carried away on her virgin bosom many a disfigured corpse of her
worshipers. Nobody pitied the drowned, on the contrary, they were
envied. Whoever happens to be killed during this purification by
bathing, is sure to go straight to Swarga (heaven). In 1760, the
two rival brotherhoods of Sannyasis and Bairagis had a regular
battle amongst them on the sacred day of Purbi, the last day of
the religious fair. The Bairagis were conquered, and there were
eighteen thousand people slaughtered.
"And in 1796," proudly narrated our warlike friend the Akali, "the
pilgrims from Punjab, all of them Sikhs, desiring to punish the
insolence of the Hossains, killed here about five hundred of these
heathens. My own grandfather took part in the fight!"
Later on we verified this in the Gazetteer of India, and the "God's
warrior" was cleared of every suspicion of exaggeration and boasting.
In 1879, however, no one was drowned, or crushed to death, but a
dreadful epidemic of cholera broke out. We were disgusted at this
impediment; but had to keep at a distance in spite of our
impatience to see Hardwar. And unable to behold distant summits
of old Himavat ourselves, we had in the meanwhile to be contented
with what we could hear about him from other people.
- - - - - -
So we talked long after our breakfast under the cave vault was
finished. But our talk was not so gay as it might have been,
because we had to part with Ram-Runjit-Das, who was going to Bombay.
The worthy Sikh shook hands with us in the European way, and then
raising his right hand gave us his blessing, after the fashion of
all the followers of Nanaka. But when he approached the Takur to
take leave of him, his countenance suddenly changed. This change
was so evident that we all noted it. The Takur was sitting on the
ground leaning on a saddle, which served him as a cushion. The
Akali did not attempt either to give him his blessing or to shake
hands with him. The proud expression of his face also changed,
and showed confusion and anxious humility instead of the usual
self-respect and self-sufficiency. The brave Sikh knelt down
before the Takur, and instead of the ordinary "Namaste!" - "Salutation
to you," whispered reverently, as if addressing the Guru of the
Golden Lake: "I am your servant, Sadhu-Sahib! give me your blessing!"
Without any apparent reason or cause, we all felt self-conscious
and ill at ease, as if guilty of some indiscretion. But the face
of the mysterious Rajput remained as calm and as dispassionate as
ever. He was looking at the river before this scene took place,
and slowly moved his eyes to the Akali, who lay prostrated before
him. Then he touched the head of the Sikh with his index finger,
and rose with the remark that we also had better start at once,
because it was getting late.
We drove in our carriage, moving very slowly because of the deep
sand which covers all this locality, and the Takur followed us on
horseback all the way. He told us the epic legends of Hardwar and
Rajistan, of the great deeds of the Hari-Kulas, the heroic princes
of the solar race. Hari means sun, and Kula family. Some of the
Rajput princes belong to this family, and the Maharanas of Oodeypur
are especially proud of their astronomical origin.
The name of Hari-Kula gives to some Orientalists ground to suppose
that a member of this family emigrated to Egypt in the remote
epoch of the first Pharaonic dynasties, and that the ancient Greeks,
borrowing the name as well as the traditions, thus formed their
legends about the mythological Hercules. It is believed that the
ancient Egyptians adored the sphinx under the name of Hari-Mukh,
or the "sun on the horizon." On the mountain chain which fringes
Kashmir on the north, thirteen thousand feet above the sea, there
is a huge summit, which is exactly like a head, and which bears
the name of Harimukh.
