However, this is not to be wondered at, because some of the most
ancient Sanskrit books about music minutely describe these laws,
and mention many musical instruments which are not only forgotten,
but totally incomprehensible in our days."
All this was very interesting, but still, disturbed by the din,
we could not listen attentively.
"Don't worry yourselves," said the Takur, who soon understood our
uneasiness, in spite of our attempts at composure. "After midnight
the wind will fall, and you will sleep undisturbed. However, if
the too close neighborhood of this musical grass is too much for
you, we may as well go nearer to the shore. There is a spot from
which you can see the sacred bonfires on the opposite shore."
We followed him, but while walking through the thickets of reeds
we did not leave off our conversation. "How is it that the Brahmans
manage to keep up such an evident cheat?" asked the colonel. "The
stupidest man cannot fail to see in the long run who made the holes
in the reeds, and how they come to give forth music."
"In America stupid men may be as clever as that; I don't know,"
answered the Takur, with a smile; "but not in India. If you took
the trouble to show, to describe, and to explain how all this is
done to any Hindu, be he even comparatively educated, he will still
see nothing. He will tell you that he knows as well as yourself
that the holes are made by the beetles and enlarged by the fakirs.
But what of that? The beetle in his eyes is no ordinary beetle,
but one of the gods incarnated in the insect for this special purpose;
and the fakir is a holy ascetic, who has acted in this case by the
order of the same god. That will be all you will ever get out of him.
Fanaticism and superstition took centuries to develop in the masses,
and now they are as strong as a necessary physiological function.
Kill these two and the crowd will have its eyes opened, and will
see truth, but not before. As to the Brahmans, India would have
been very fortunate if everything they have done were as harmless.
Let the crowds adore the muse and the spirit of harmony. This
adoration is not so very wicked, after all."
The Babu told us that in Dehra-Dun this kind of reed is planted
on both sides of the central street, which is more than a mile long.
The buildings prevent the free action of the wind, and so the sounds
are heard only in time of east wind, which is very rare. A year
ago Swami Dayanand happened to camp off Dehra-Dun. Crowds of people
gathered round him every evening. One day he delivered a very
powerful sermon against superstition. Tired out by this long,
energetic speech, and, besides, being a little unwell, the Swami
sat down on his carpet and shut his eyes to rest as soon as the
sermon was finished. But the crowd, seeing him so unusually quiet
and silent, all at once imagined that his soul, abandoning him in
this prostration, entered the reeds - that had just begun to sing
their fantastical rhap-sody - and was now conversing with the gods
through the bamboos. Many a pious man in this gathering, anxious
to show the teacher in what fulness they grasped his teaching and
how deep was their respect for him personally, knelt down before
the singing reeds and performed a most ardent puja.
"What did the Swami say to that?"
"He did not say anything.... Your question shows that you don't
know our Swami yet," laughed the Babu. "He simply jumped to his
feet, and, uprooting the first sacred reed on his way, gave such
a lively European bakshish (thrashing) to the pious puja-makers,
that they instantly took to their heels. The Swami ran after them
for a whole mile, giving it hot to everyone in his way. He is
wonderfully strong is our Swami, and no friend to useless talk, I
can tell you."
"But it seems to me," said the colonel, "that that is not the right
way to convert crowds. Dispersing and frightening is not converting."
"Not a bit of it. The masses of our nation require peculiar treatment....
Let me tell you the end of this story. Disappointed with the effect
of his teachings on the inhabitants of Dehra-Dun, Dayanand Saraswati
went to Patna, some thirty-five or forty miles from there. And before
he had even rested from the fatigues of his journey, he had to receive
a deputation from Dehra-Dun, who on their knees entreated him to come
back. The leaders of this deputation had their backs covered with
bruises, made by the bamboo of the Swami! They brought him back
with no end of pomp, mounting him on an elephant and spreading
flowers all along the road. Once in Dehra-Dun, he immediately
proceeded to found a Samaj, a society as you would say, and the
Dehra-Dun Arya-Samaj now counts at least two hundred members, who
have renounced idol-worship and superstition for ever."
"I was present," said Mulji, "two years ago in Benares, when Dayanand
broke to pieces about a hundred idols in the bazaar, and the same
stick served him to beat a Brahman with. He caught the latter in
the hollow idol of a huge Shiva. The Brahman was quietly sitting
there talking to the devotees in the name, and so to speak, with
the voice of Shiva, and asking money for a new suit of clothes the
idol wanted."
"Is it possible the Swami had not to pay for this new achievement
of his?"
"Oh, yes.
