=Bhainsrorgarh=, _February 19_.—Bhainsrorgarh,[11.6.1] ten miles, four
furlongs; thermometer 51°; atmosphere dense and oppressive, and roads
execrable, through a deep forest; but for the hatchets of my friends, my
baggage never could have been got on. We passed several hamlets,
consisting of a dozen or more huts, the first of which I find belongs to
my young friend Morji of Gura, himself a vassal of the Pramar of Bijoli
(one of the sixteen Omras of Mewar), and holding a few bighas of _bhum_,
as his _bat_ or share of the _bapota_ (patrimony) of Barao. We have
elsewhere given a copy of the tenure on which Morji holds a village in
the fief of Bijoli.[11.6.2] At seven miles from Dangarmau, we came to a
small shrine of an Islamite saint, who buried himself alive. It is an
elevated point, from whence is a wild but lovely prospect. There is a
_kund_, or ‘fountain,’ planted with trees, close to the shrine, which
attracts a weekly mela or ‘fair,’ attended by all classes, who cannot
help attributing some virtue to a spot where a saint, though a Muslim,
thus expiated his sins. In descending, we heard the roaring of mighty
waters, and soon came upon the Bamani, forming a fine cascade of about
fifty feet in height; its furious course during the monsoon is apparent
from the weeds it has left on the trees, at least twenty feet above its
present level. The fall of the country is rapid, even from this lower
spot, to the bed of the Chambal. Uparmal must have a considerable
elevation above the table-land of Janapao, where the Chambal and other
streams have their fountains; but of all this we shall by and by form a
more correct opinion. We passed the cairn of a Rajput who fell defending
his post against the Minas of the Kairar, a tract on the banks of the
Banas, filled with this banditti, in one of their last irruptions which
disturbed the peace of this region. Each traveller adds a stone, and I
gave my mite to swell the heap [649].
The _patta_ of Bhainsror is held by Raghunath Singh, one of the sixteen
great lords of Mewar, having the very ancient title of Rawat, peculiar
to Rajputana, and the diminutive of Rao.[11.6.3] Bhainsror is one of the
best fiefs of Mewar, and the lands attached to it are said to be capable
of yielding one lakh of annual revenue, equal to £50,000 in the dearest
countries of Europe; and when I add that a cavalier can support himself,
his steed, etc., on £50, its relative value will at once be understood.
He has also a toll upon the ferries of the Chambal, though not content
therewith, he levied until lately a percentage on all merchandise,
besides impositions on travellers of whatever description, under the
name of _kot ki marummat_, or ‘repairs of the castle’: were we, however,
to judge by its dilapidated condition, we should say his exactions were
very light, or the funds were misapplied. This is the sole passage of
the Chambal for a great extent, and all the commerce of higher Malwa,
Haraoti, and Mewar passes through this domain. The class of Banjaras
(traders) termed Vaishnava, long established at the city of Pur in
Mewar, frequent no other route in their journey from the salt-lakes of
the desert to Malwa or Bundelkhand. Their tanda or caravan consists of
six thousand bullocks, and they never make less than two, and often
three, trips in the year. The duty of the Raj is five rupees for each
hundred head thus laden; but the feudatory, not content with his
imposition of ‘castle repairs’ and ‘bhum’ as lord of the manor, has
added a hundred and fifty per cent to the regular transit duty of the
State, which is divided into two items; namely, three rupees and a half
for the ferry, and as much for _bolai_, or safe escort through his
territory. But as Haraoti always afforded protection (which could be
said of no other region of independent India), the ghat of the Chambal
was much frequented, in spite of these heavy drawbacks to industry. My
friend the Rawat has, however, found it expedient to remove all these
war-taxes, retaining only that portion which has been attached to the
frontier post, for protection; and a portion of the ferry-rate granted
to this fief nearly two centuries ago. Instead of about fifteen per
cent, as heretofore levied, including that of the crown, it amounts to
less than one-half, and the revenue has been quadrupled!
=Bhainsrorgarh Fort.=—The castle of Bhainsror is most romantically
situated upon the extreme point of a ridge, on an almost isolated rib of
the Patar, from which we have descended. To the east, its abrupt cliff
overhangs the placid expanse of the Chambal, its height above which is
about two hundred feet: the level of the river in the monsoon is marked
at full thirty feet above its present elevation. The Bamani bounds
Bhainsror on the west, and by the rapidity of its fall has completely
scarped the rock, even to [650] the angle of confluence within which is
placed the castle, to whose security a smaller intermediate stream not a
little contributes. As by mistake it is placed in the map on the wrong
side of the Bamani, we shall correct this error by giving a slight plan
of the ground.
[Illustration:
The Rapids of the Chambal.
_Rapids._
_Bamani_
_Cenotaph_
_Chumbul R._
_Bhainsrorgarh._
_Chulis, or whirlpools._
]
On the north alone is it accessible, and there the hill is scarped; but
this scarp, which is about three hundred yards distant, forms a good
cover, and a few shells thence played upon the castle would soon compel
it to surrender. The rock is a soft, loose, blue schistose slate, which
would not retard the miner. The approach from the river, here about five
hundred yards wide, would be destruction. It is never fordable, and its
translucent sea-green waters are now full forty feet in depth. When in
the periodical rains it accumulates at its source, and is fed during its
passage by many minor streams from the Vindhya and this oberland, its
velocity is overwhelming; it rises above the opposing bank, and laying
the whole tract to the base of the tableland of Haraoti under water,
sweeps away in its irresistible course even the rocks. Speculation might
here be exhausted in vain attempts to explain how nature could overcome
this formidable obstacle to her operations, and how the stream could
effect its passage through this adamantine barrier. The channel cut in
the rock is as clean as if performed by the chisel, and standing on the
summit of the cliff, which is from three hundred to seven hundred feet
in height, one discerns in imagination the marks of union: to use the
words of our last great bard, on the Rhone,
Heights which appear as lovers who have parted
In hate, whose mining depths so intervene,
That they can meet no more, though broken-hearted.
=The Rapids of the Chambal.=—I shall by and by, I trust, obtain a more
correct knowledge of the comparative elevation of this plateau, and the
crest of the Vindhya whence issues the Chambal; but although this stream
is, of course, much below the level of its source, yet there is little
doubt that the summit of this chasm (_uparmal_) is, as its name
indicates, the ‘highest land’ of Malwa. I say this after making myself
acquainted with the general depression of [651] Malwa to this point, in
which we are aided by the course of the stream. Under Bhainsror, the
current is never very gentle; but both above and below there are rapids,
if not falls, of thirty to fifty feet in descent. That above the stream
is termed the Chuli, because full of whirlpools and eddies, which have
given a sacred character to it, like the Nerbudda, at ‘the whirlpools of
the great god,’ Chuli Maheswar. A multitude of the round stones taken
out of these vortices, when they have been rounded by attrition into a
perfectly orbicular form, only require consecration and a little red
paint to be converted into the representatives of Bhairon, the god of
war, very properly styled the elder born of Siva, the destroyer. This is
about two miles up the stream; there is another at Kotra, about three
miles down, with several successive rapids. There is a fall in the
vicinity of Rampura, and another about five coss north of it, at
Churetagarh, where the river first penetrates the plateau. There, I
understand, it is not above seventy yards in breadth, confined between
cliffs perfectly perpendicular. There is also said to be another fall or
rapid intermediate between Rampura and its source in the peak of
Janapao,[11.6.4] in the neighbourhood of Un. If these are all the falls,
though only amounting to rapids, we may form a tolerable idea of the
difference of level between the base of the Uparmal and the highland of
the Vindhya, whence the Chambal issues; and still we shall see that
there are points where the perpendicular cliffs must be some hundred
feet above the peak of Janapao; if so, this chasm was never formed by
water.
Mewar still extends east of the river, and the greater part of the
estate of Bhainsror is on the opposite side. A small stream, called the
Karab-ka-khal, divides the lands of the Haras from those of the
Sesodias, and there is a _bijak-marga_, or landmark inscription, at the
Shesa _talao_, put up centuries ago. To this line, and between it and
the Chambal, is the _paita_ of Kundal; and farther south, towards
Rampura, is that of Pachail, both containing twenty-four villages
attached to Bhainsror. All that tract farther inland in Upper Malwa,
termed Malkides, in which are the towns of Chaichat and Saket, was in
old times included geographically in Mewar: it is yet possessed by the
Saktawats, though subject to Kotah.
Tradition has preserved the etymology of Bhainsror, and dates its
erection from the second century of the era of Vikrama, though others
make it antecedent even to him. Be that as it may, it adds a fact of
some importance, namely, that the Charans, or bards, were then, as now,
the privileged carriers of Rajwara, and that this was one of their great
lines of communication. Bhainsror, therefore, instead of being the work
[652] of some mighty conqueror, owes its existence to the joint efforts
of Bhainsa Sah, the merchant, and Rora, a Charan and Banjara, to protect
their _tandas_ (caravans) from the lawless mountaineers, when compelled
to make a long halt during the periodical rains.[11.6.5] How many lines
of heroes possessed it before the Haras established themselves among its
ruins is unknown, though the “universal Pramar” is mentioned. Its
subsequent change of masters, and their names and history, are matters
of less doubt; since the altars of the Dudia, the Pramar, the Rathor,
the Saktawat, the Chondawat,
—who sought and found, by dangerous roads,
A path to perpetuity of fame,
are still visible. Of the Dudia name we have already preserved one
wreck, though the “rocket of the moon,” was of the family who dwelt upon
the whirlpools of the Chambal, we must leave to conjecture. Not so of
his successor, the Rathor, who was a scion of the house of Mewa,[11.6.6]
on the Salt River of the desert, from which, though he was but a vassal
of Mandor, the Rana scorned not to take a wife boasting the pure blood
of the kings of Kanauj. A younger brother accompanied her to the court
of Chitor. Soon after, the Rawal of Jaisalmer dared to put an affront
upon the Rana, the acknowledged head of the Rajput race! The chivalry of
Mewar was assembled, and the _bira_ of vengeance held up, which the
stripling heir of Mewa, darting forward, obtained. Although but fifteen
years of age, entreaties were lost upon him to induce him to renounce
the enterprise, which in all probability some border-feud of his
paternal house and the Bhattis, as well as _swamidharma_, or fealty, to
his sovereign and kinsman, may have prompted. His only request was that
he might be aided by two of his intimate friends, and five hundred horse
of his own selection. How he passed the desert, or how he gained
admittance to the chief of the Bhatti tribe, is not stated; suffice it
to say, that he brought the Rawal’s head and placed it at the feet of
the sovereign of Chitor, for which service he had a grant of Salumbar;
and subsequently (fiefs in those days not being _amovable_) he was
removed to Bhainsror. The young Rathor continued to rise in favour; he
was already by courtesy and marriage the _bhanej_, or nephew, of his
sovereign, who for this action bestowed upon him a young princess of his
own blood; an honour which in the end proved fatal. One day, the Thakur
(chief) was enjoying himself in his baronial hall of Bhainsror, in the
midst of his little court, with a nautch, when a fatal curiosity,
perhaps instigated by jealousy, induced his Rani to peep out from the
lattice above. Offended at this violation of decorum, he said aloud to
an attendant, “Tell the Thakurani, if she is [653] eager to come abroad,
she may do so, and I will retire.” The lady disputed the justice of the
reprimand, asserting that her lord had been mistaken, and tried to shift
the reproach to one of her damsels; but failing to convince him, she
precipitated herself from the battlements into the whirlpools beneath:
the spot where she fell into the Chambal still retains the name of
Ranighatta.[11.6.7] When it was reported to the Rana that a false
accusation had caused the suicide of his niece, the sentence of
banishment from Mewar was pronounced against the Rathor, which was
afterwards commuted, out of a regard for his former service, to the
sequestration of Bhainsror; and he had the small fief of Nimri and its
twenty dependent hamlets, situated upon the Patar, and not far from
Bhainsror, bestowed upon him.
Bijai Singh, the descendant of the hero of this tale, has just been to
see me; a shrewd and stalwart knight, not a whit degenerated by being
transplanted from the Luni to the Chambal; for, though surrounded by
Mahratta depredators, by means of the fastnesses in which he dwells, and
with the aid of his good lance, with which he repays them in kind, he
has preserved his little estate in times so fatal to independence. Had I
not entered deeply into the history of the past, I might have been led
away by the disadvantageous reports given of these brave men, who were
classed with the common freebooters of the hills, and pointed out as
meriting similar chastisement; since these associations, both for their
own security and retaliation on the vagabond Mahrattas, who usurped or
destroyed their birthright, gave a colour to the complaints against
them.
The Pramar (_vulg._ Puar) succeeded the Rathor in the fief of Bhainsror.
How long the former held it is uncertain; but the mode in which the last
vassal chieftain lost it and his life together, affords another trait of
national manners. Here again the fair, whose influence over the lords of
Rajputana we have elsewhere mentioned, was the cause of the catastrophe.
The Pramar had espoused the daughter of his neighbour chieftain of
Begun, and they lived happily until a game at pachisi, somewhat
resembling chess, caused a dispute, in which he spoke slightingly of her
family, an affront never to be pardoned by a Rajputni; and the next day
she wrote to her father. The messenger had not left his presence with
the reply, before the nakkara beat the assembly for the kher.[11.6.8]
The descendants of the ‘black cloud’ (_Kalamegh_) obeyed the summons,
and the hamlets on the Bamani, or the Patar, poured forth their warriors
at the sound of the tocsin of Begun. When the cause of quarrel was
explained, it came home to every bosom, and they forthwith marched to
avenge it. Their road lay [654] through the forest of Antri; but when
arrived within a few coss of Bhainsror, they divided their band, and
while the chief took the more circuitous route of the pass, the heir of
Begun followed the course of the Bamani, took the Pramar by surprise,
and had slain him in single combat ere his father joined him. The insult
to the Meghawats being avenged, the Pramars were about to retaliate; but
seeing the honour of her house thus dearly maintained, affection
succeeded to resentment, and the Rajputni determined to expiate her
folly with her life. The funeral pile was erected close to the junction
of the Bamani and Chambal, and she ascended with the body of her lord,
her own father setting fire to it. I encamped close to the altars
recording the event.
This feud changed the law of succession in the Begun estate. The
gallantry of the young Meghawat consoled the old chief for the tragical
event which lost him a daughter; and in a full council of “the sons of
Kalamegh,” the rights of primogeniture were set aside in favour of the
valorous youth, and the lord paramount (the Rana) confirmed the
decision. The subordinate fief of Jathana, which formerly comprehended
the present district of Jawad, was settled on the elder son, whose
descendant, Tej Singh, still holds a share of it, besides the title of
Rawat. Both estates have alike suffered from the Mahrattas, equally with
others in Mewar.
The successor of the Pramar was a Chondawat, of the branch Kishanawat,
and a younger son of Salumbar; and it would be well for Lal Singh had he
sought no higher distinction than that to which his birth entitled him.
But Lalji Rawat was a beacon in the annals of crime, and is still held
out as an example to those who would barter a good name here, and the
hope of the life to come, for the evanescent gifts of fortune. He
purchased the honours of Bhainsror by shedding the blood of his
bosom-friend, the uncle of his sovereign.
=Nāthji Mahārāja.=—Maharaja Nathji was one of the sons of Rana Sangram
Singh, and brother to the reigning prince Jagat Singh, on whose death,
doubts of the legitimacy of his successor Raj Singh being raised, Nathji
aspired to the dignity; but his projects faded by the death of Raj
Singh. He left a posthumous child, whose history, and the civil wars
engendered by his uncle Arsi, who took possession of the _gaddi_, have
been fully detailed. Arsi, who was assuredly a usurper, if the pretender
was a lawful son of Rana Raj, had suspicions regarding his own uncle
Nathji, who had once shown a predilection for the supreme power; but the
moment he heard that his nephew fancied he was plotting against him, he
renounced ambition, and sought to make his peace with [655] heaven;
amusing himself with poetry, in which he had some skill, and by
cultivating his melons in the bed of the Banas, which ran under the
walls of his castle, Bagor.[11.6.9] The fervour of his devotions, and
the love and respect which his qualifications as a man and a Rajput
obtained him, now caused his ruin. In the coldest nights, accompanied by
a single attendant, he was accustomed to repair to the lake, and thence
convey water to sprinkle the statue of his tutelary divinity, ‘the god
of all mankind’ (Jagannath). It was reported to the Rana that, by means
of these ascetic devotions, he was endeavouring to enlist the gods in
his traitorous designs, and, determined to ascertain the truth, Arsi,
with a confidential friend, disguised himself, and repaired to the steps
of the temple. Nathji soon appeared with his brazen vessel of water, and
as he passed, the prince, revealing himself, thus addressed him: “Why
all this devotion, this excess of sanctity? if it be the throne you
covet, uncle, it is yours”; to which Nathji, in no wise thrown off his
guard, replied with much urbanity, “You are my sovereign, my child, and
I consider my devotions as acceptable to the deity, from their giving me
such a chief, for my prayers are for your prosperity.” This unaffected
sincerity reassured the Rana; but the chiefs of Deogarh, Bhindar, and
other clans, being dissatisfied with the harsh and uncompromising temper
of their sovereign, endeavoured to check his ebullitions by pointing to
the Maharaja as a refuge against his tyranny.
To be released from such a restraint, Arsi at last resolved on
assassinating his uncle; but his valour and giant strength made the
attempt a service of danger, and he therefore employed one who, under
the cloak of friendship, could use the poniard without risk. Lal Singh
was the man, the bosom friend of the Maharaja, who, besides exchanging
turbans with him, had pledged his friendship at the altar; a man who
knew every secret of his heart, and that there was no treason in it. It
was midnight, when a voice broke in upon his devotions, calling on him
from the portico by name. No other could have taken this liberty, and
the reply, “Come in, brother Lalji; what brings you here at such an
hour?” had scarcely passed the lips of Nathji, when, as he made the last
prostration to the image, he received the dagger of his friend in his
neck, and the emblem of Siva was covered with his blood! For this
service, the assassin was rewarded with the fief of Bhainsror, and a
seat amongst the sixteen barons of Mewar; but as the number cannot be
increased, the rights of the Saktawat chief of Bansi were cancelled;
thus adding one crime to another, which however worked out its own
reward, and at once avenged the murder of Nathji, and laid Mewar in
ruins, causing [656] fresh streams of the blood which had already so
copiously flowed from the civil wars arising out of the hostility of
these rival clans, the Saktawats and Chondawats.
Lalji did not long enjoy his honours; his crime of “triple dye” was ever
present to his mind, and generated a loathsome, incurable disease; for
even in these lands, where such occurrences are too frequent, “the still
small voice” is heard: worms consumed the traitor while living, and his
memory is blasted now that he is dead; while that of Nathji is
sanctified, as a spirit gentle, valorous, and devout.
Man Singh, the son of this man of blood, succeeded to the honours of
Bhainsror, and was a soldier of no common stamp. At the battle of
Ujjain, where the Rana of Mewar made the last grand stand for
independence, Man was badly wounded, made captive, and brought in the
train of the conquering Mahratta, when he laid siege to Udaipur. As he
was recovering from his wounds, his friends attempted to effect his
liberation through that notorious class called the Baoris,[11.6.10] and
contrived to acquaint him with the plot. The wounded chief was consoling
himself for his captivity by that great panacea for ennui, a nautch, and
applauding the fine voice of a songstress of Ujjain as she warbled a
_tappa_ of the Panjab, when a significant sign was made by a stranger.
He instantly exclaimed that his wounds had broken out afresh, staggered
towards his pallet, and throwing down the light, left all in confusion
and darkness, which favoured the Baori’s design; who, while one of his
friends took possession of the pallet, wrapped the sick chief in a
_chadar_ (sheet), threw him on his back, and carried him through the
camp of the besiegers to the city. The Rana, rejoiced at his liberation,
commanded a salute to be fired, and the first intelligence the Mahratta
leader had of his prisoner’s escape was in answer to the question as to
the cause of such rejoicing; they then found one of the vassal
substitutes of Man still occupying the bed, but the sequel does not
mention how such fidelity was repaid. The cenotaph (_chhatri_) of this
brave son of an unworthy sire is at the Tribeni, or point of confluence
of the three streams, the Chambal, the Bamani, and the Khal; and from
its light and elegant construction, adds greatly to the picturesque
effect of the scenery. The present chief, Raghunath Singh, who succeeded
Man, has well maintained his independence throughout these perilous
times. Bapu Sindhia, whose name will long be remembered as one of the
scourges of these realms, tried his skill upon Bhainsror, where the
remains of his trenches, to the north-west of the town, are still
conspicuous; but he was met with sortie after sortie, while the
hill-tribes were nightly let loose upon him, until he was forced to make
a precipitate retreat [657].
I cannot conclude the annals of this family without a passing remark on
the great moral change effected since the power of Britain has
penetrated into these singular abodes. It was my habit to attend on any
of the chieftains who honoured me by an invitation to their family
fêtes, such as their salgirahs, or ‘birthdays’;[11.6.11] and on these
occasions I merged the Agent of the British Government entirely in the
friend, and went without ceremony or parade. Amongst my numerous _pagri
badal bhai_, or ‘adopted brothers’ (as well as sisters), was the
Maharaja Sheodan Singh, the grandson and possessor of the honours and
estates of Nathji, who still enjoys the domain of Bagor, and from whom I
used to receive a share of its melons, which he cultivates with the same
ardour as his grandsire. The ‘annual knot’ (salgirah) of my friend was
celebrated on the terraced roof of his palace, overhanging the lake of
Udaipur, and I was by his side listening, in the intervals of the song,
to some of his extemporaneous poetical effusions (on which my friend
placed rather too high a value), when amongst the congratulatory names
called aloud by the herald, I was surprised to hear, “_Maharaja Salamat,
Rawat Raghunath Singhji-ka mujra lijo!_” or, “Health to the Maharaja,
and let him receive the compliments of Rawat Raghunath Singh”: the
grandson of the murderer come to pay his respects to the grandson of the
murdered, and to press with his knee the _gaddi_ on which he sat! With
justice may we repeat their powerful metaphor, on such anomalies in the
annals of their feuds—_bher aur bakri ekhi thali se pītē hain_, ‘the
wolf and the goat drink from the same platter.’[11.6.12] We might thus,
by a little attention to the past history and habits of these singularly
interesting races, confer signal moral benefits upon them; for it must
be evident that the germs of many excellent qualities require only the
sunshine of kindness to ripen into goodly fruit; and for the sake of our
own welfare, as well as that of humanity, let not the protecting power,
in the exercise of patronage, send amongst them men who are not imbued
with feelings which will lead them to understand, to appreciate, and to
administer fitting counsel, or correction where necessary. The
remembrance of these injuries is still fresh, and it requires but the
return of anarchy again to unsheath the poniard and drug the cup; but if
we consult their real good, the recollection will gradually grow
fainter.
=Bhainsror attacked by Alāu-d-dīn.=—Before, however, we altogether quit
the wilds of the Chambal, we must record that Bhainsror had been visited
by another man of blood, the renowned Alau-d-din, in whose epithets of
Khuni, or ‘the sanguinary,’ and Sikandaru-s-sani, or ‘the second
Alexander,’ by which history has given him perpetuity of infamy, we
recognize the devastating [658] and ferocious Khilji king, who assailed
every Hindu prince in India. Obedient to the letter of the law, he had
determined to leave not one stone upon another of the temples or palaces
of Bhainsror. Everywhere we searched for memorials of the Hun, whose
name is also connected with the foundation of Bhainsror; of the Pramar,
or the Dudia; but in vain. The vestiges of these ages had disappeared,
or been built up in the more modern fortifications. Two such
inscriptions we indeed discovered, reversed and applied as common
building materials in the walls around the town; one was dated S. 1179
(A.D. 1123), but being in the old ornamented Jain character, would have
required time and labour to decipher. The other is also anterior to Ala,
and the ornaments in this are decidedly Jain; its purport is as follows:
“On the _parab_ (full moon) of Sheoratri (the birthday of Siva), Maharae
Dariyai Rae Singh Deo bestowed, in the name of Rameswar, the village of
Tatagarh in _pun_ (religious gift). Those who maintain the grant will
enjoy the fruits resulting therefrom”; or, in the words of the original:
_Yasya yasya jāda bhūmis,
Tasya tasya tadā phalam._[11.6.13]
“Samvat 1302 (A.D. 1246).” This form of _sasan_, or religious charity,
is peculiar, and styled _sasan Udayaditya_, which proves that the
Pramar, of whom this is a memorial, was a feudatory of the prince of
Dhar, whose era has been fixed. These discoveries stimulated our
research, and my revered friend and Guru, who is now deeply embued with
antiquarian enthusiasm, vainly offered a large reward for permission to
dig for the image of Parsvanath, his great pontiff, of whose shrine he
has no doubt the first inscription is a memorial. When about to leave
this place (indeed our baggage had gone on), we were informed of some
celebrated temples across the river at a place called Baroli, anciently
Dholpur. The shrine is dedicated to Ghateswara Mahadeva, with a lingam
revolving in the _yoni_, the wonder of those who venture amongst its
almost impervious and unfrequented woods to worship. As I could not go
myself, I dispatched the Guru to hunt for inscriptions and bring me an
account of it.
=Dābhi=, _February 20_, eleven miles; thermometer 48°.—Reascended the
third steppe of our miniature Alp, at the Nasera pass (_ghat_), the foot
of which was exactly five miles from Bhainsror, and three and a half
furlongs more carried us to its summit, which is of easy ascent, though
the pathway was rugged, lying between high peaks on either side. This
alone will give a tolerable idea of the height of the Patar above the
level of the river. Majestic trees cover the hill from the base to its
summit, through [659] which we could never have found a passage for the
baggage without the axe. Besides some noble tamarind (_imli_) trees,
there was the lofty _semal_, or cotton-tree; the gnarled _sakhu_, which
looks like a leper amongst its healthy brethren; the _tendu_, or
ebony-tree, now in full fruit, and the useful _dhao_, besides many
others of less magnitude.[11.6.14]—The landscape from the summit was
grand: we looked down upon the Charmanvati (_vulg._ Chambal) and the
castle of Raghunath; while the eye commanded a long sweep of the black
Bamani gliding through the vale of Antri to its termination at the tombs
of the Saktawats. The road to Dabhi was very fair for such a tract, and
when within four miles of our tents, we crossed a stream said to have
its fountain at Menal, which must consequently be one of the highest
points of Uparmal. This rill afforded another means of estimating the
height of our position, for besides the general fall to the brink of the
chasm, it precipitates itself in a fine cascade of three hundred feet.
Neither time nor place admitted of our following this rill to its
termination, about six miles distant, through a rugged woody tract. From
the summit of the pass of Nasera, we had a peep at the tomb of a Muslim
saint, whence the ground gradually shelved to the end of our journey at
Kotah.
=Monuments to Warriors.=—Dabhi is the line of demarcation between Mewar
and Bundi, being itself in the latter State, in the district of
Loecha,—dreary enough! It produces, however, rice and _makkai_, or
Indian corn, and some good patches of wheat. We passed the cairns,
composed of loose stones, of several Rajputs slain in defending their
cattle against the Minas of the Kairar. I was particularly struck with
that of a Charan bard, to whose memory they have set up a _paliya_, or
tombstone,[11.6.15] on which is his effigy, his lance at rest, and
shield extended, who most likely fell defending his _tanda_. This tract
was grievously oppressed by the banditti who dwell amidst the ravines of
the Banas, on the western declivity of the plateau. “Who durst,” said my
guide, as we stopped at these tumuli, “have passed the Patar eighteen
months ago? they (the Minas) would have killed you for the cakes you had
about you; now you may carry gold. These green fields would have been
shared, perhaps reaped altogether, by them; but now, though there is no
superfluity, there is ‘play for the teeth,’ and we can put our turban
under our heads at night without the fear of missing it in the morning.
Atal Raj! may your sovereignty last for ever!” This is the universal
language of men who have never known peaceful days, who have been
nurtured amidst the elements of discord and rapine, and who,
consequently, can appreciate the change, albeit they were not mere
spectators. “We must retaliate,” said a sturdy [660] Chauhan, one of
Morji’s vassals, who, with five besides himself, insisted on conducting
me to Bhainsror, and would only leave me when I would not let them go
beyond the frontier. I was much amused with the reply of one of them
whom I stopped with the _argumentum ad verecundiam_, as he began a long
harangue about five buffaloes carried off by the Thakur of Nimri, and
begged my aid for their recovery. I said it was too far back; and added,
laughing, “Come, Thakur, confess; did you never balance the account
elsewhere?”—“Oh, Maharaja, I have lost many, and taken many, but
Ramdohai! if I have touched a blade of grass since your raj, I am no
Rajput.” I found he was a Hara, and complimented him on his affinity
with Alu, the lord of Bumbaoda, which tickled his vanity not a little.
In vain I begged them to return, after escorting me so many miles. To
all my solicitations the Chauhan replied, “You have brought us comfort,
and this is _man ki chakari_, 'service of the heart.'” I accepted it as
such, and we “whiled the gait” with sketches of the times gone by. Each
foot of the country was familiar to them. At one of the cairns, in the
midst of the wood, they all paused for a second; it was raised over the
brother of the Bhatti Thakur, and each, as he passed, added a stone to
this monumental heap. I watched, to discern whether the same feeling was
produced in them which the act created in me; but if it existed, it was
not betrayed. They were too familiar with the reality to feel the
romance of the scene; yet it was one altogether not ill-suited to the
painter.
=Karipur=, _February 21_, 9½ miles.—Encamped in the glen of Karipura,
confined and wild. Thermometer 51°, but a fine, clear, bracing
atmosphere. Our route lay through a tremendous jungle. Half-way, crossed
the ridge, the altitude of which made up for the descent to Dabhi, but
from whence we again descended to Karipura. There were many hamlets in
this almost impervious forest; but all were desolate, and the only trace
of population was in the altars of those who had defended to the death
their dreary abodes against the ruthless Mina of the Kairar, which we
shall visit on our return.
=Sontra.=—About a mile after we had commenced our march this morning, we
observed the township of Sontra on our right, which is always conjoined
to Dabhi, to designate the _tappa_ of Dabhi-Sontra, a subdivision of
Loecha. Being informed by a scout that it contained inscriptions, I
requested my Guru and one of my Brahmans to go there. The search
afforded a new proof of the universality of the Pramar sway, and of the
conquests of another “Lord of the world and the faith,” Alau-d-din, the
second [661] Alexander. The Yati found several altars having
inscriptions, and many _paliyas_, from three of which, placed in
juxtaposition, he copied the following inscriptions:
“Samvat 1422 (A.D. 1366). Pardi, Teja, and his son, Deola Pardi, from
the fear of shame, for the gods, Brahmans, their cattle, and their
wives, sold their lives.”
“S. 1446 (A.D. 1390). In the month of Asarh (_badi yakam_): Monday, in
the castle of Sontra (Sutrawan durg), the Pramar Uda, Kala, Bhuna, for
their kine, wives, Brahmans, along with the putra Chonda, sold their
existence.”
“S. 1466 (A.D. 1410), the 1st Asarh, and Monday, at Sontragram, Rugha,
the Chaora, in defence of the gods, his wife, and the Brahmans, sold his
life.”
The following was copied from a kund, or fountain, excavated in the
rock:
“S. 1370 (A.D. 1314), the 16th of Asarh (_sudi yakam_), he, whose renown
is unequalled, the king, the lord of men, Maharaja Adiraj, Sri
Alau-d-din, with his army of three thousand elephants, ten lakhs of
horse, war-chariots and foot without number, conquering from Sambhar in
the north, Malwa, Karnat, Kanor, Jalor, Jaisalmer, Deogir, Tailang, even
to the shores of the ocean, and Chandrapuri in the east; victorious over
all the kings of the earth, and by whom Sutrawan Durg, with its twelve
townships, have been wrested from the Pramar Mansi; by whose son,
Bilaji, whose birthplace (_utpatti_) is Sri Dhar, this fountain was
excavated. Written and also engraved by Sahideva the stone-cutter
(_sutradhar_).”
Beneath the surface of the fountain was another inscription, but there
was no time to bale out the water, which some future traveller over the
Patar may accomplish. Sontra, or as classically written, Satrudurg, ‘the
inaccessible to the foe,’ was one of the castles of the Pramar, no doubt
dependent on Chitor when under the Mori dynasty; and this was only one
of the subdivisions of Central India, which was all under Pramar
dominion, from the Nerbudda to the Jumna—an assertion proved by
inscriptions and traditions. We shall hear more of this at Menal and
Bijoli on our return over Uparmal, which I resolve to be thoroughly
acquainted with.
=Kotah=, _February 22_, eleven miles to the banks of the
Chambal.—Although not a cloud was to be seen, the sun was invisible till
more than spear-high, owing to a thick vapoury mist, accompanied by a
cold piercing wind from the north-west. The descent was gradual all the
way to the river, but the angle may be estimated from the fact that the
pinnacle (_kalas_) of the palace, though one hundred and twenty feet
above the level of the Chambal, was not visible until within five miles
of the bank. The barren [662] tract we passed over is all in Bundi,
until we approach Kotah, where the lands of Nanta intervene, the
personal domain of the regent Zalim Singh, and the only territory
belonging to Kotah west of the Chambal. Karipura, as well as all this
region, is inhabited by Bhils, of which race a very intelligent
individual acted this morning as our guide. He says it is called by them
Baba ka nund, and that they were the sovereigns of it until dispossessed
by the Rajputs. We may credit them, for it is only fit for Bhils or
their brethren of the forest, the wildbeasts. But I rejoiced at having
seen it, though I have no wish to retrace my steps over this part of my
journey. Half-way, we passed a roofless shed of loose stones, containing
the divinity of the Bhils; it is in the midst of a grove of thorny
tangled brushwood, whose boughs were here and there decorated with
shreds of various coloured cloth, offerings of the traveller to the
forest divinity for protection against evil spirits, by which I suppose
the Bhils themselves are meant.[11.6.16]
=Maypoles.=—We must not omit (though we have quitted the Patar) to
notice the ‘Maypoles’ erected at the entrance of every village in the
happy _basant_ or spring, whose concluding festival, the Holi or
Saturnalia, is just over. This year the season has been most ungenial,
and has produced sorrow rather than gladness. Every pole has a bundle of
hay or straw tied at the top, and some have a cross stick like arms and
a flag flying; but in many parts of the Patar, the more symbolic plough
was substituted, dedicated to the goddess of fruition, and served the
double purpose of a Spring-pole, and frightening the deer from nibbling
the young corn.
=Kotah City.=—The appearance of Kotah is very imposing, and impresses
the mind with a more lively notion of wealth and activity than most
cities in India. A strong wall with bastions runs parallel to, and at no
great distance from, the river, at the southern extremity of which is
the palace (placed within a castle separated from the town), whose
cupolas and slender minarets give to it an air of light elegance. The
scene is crowded with objects animate and inanimate. Between the river
and the city are masses of people plying various trades; but the eye
dwells upon the terminating bastion to the north, which is a little fort
of itself, and commands the country on both banks. But we shall have
more to say regarding this during our halt, which is likely to be of
some continuance [663].
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Footnote 11.6.1:
[About 120 miles E.N.E. from Udaipur city.]
Footnote 11.6.2:
See Vol. I. p. 241.
Footnote 11.6.3:
[Rāwat, Rājaputra, ‘King’s son.’]
Footnote 11.6.4:
[In the Indore State, 9 miles S.W. of Mhow cantonment (_IGI_, x.
134).]
Footnote 11.6.5:
[By another tradition, Bhainsa Sāh was a merchant, servant of the
Chauhān kings of Sāmbhar and Ajmer (Erskine ii. A. 96).]
Footnote 11.6.6:
[The “cradle of the Rāthors,” now in Mallāni.]
Footnote 11.6.7:
[The ‘cleft or fissure of the Rāni.’]
Footnote 11.6.8:
[The feudal levy.]
Footnote 11.6.9:
[About 70 miles N.E. of Udaipur city.]
Footnote 11.6.10:
[A criminal tribe, known in the Panjāb as Bāwaria, and as Moghias in
Mārwār (_Census Report, Mārwār, 1891_, ii. 190 f.).]
Footnote 11.6.11:
[The ‘annual knot.’ The custom still prevails among Indian
Muhammadans, and the mother of the Mughal Emperor used to keep a
string in the harem, and added a knot, probably as a magical
protective, for every year of her son’s life. The custom of using in
this way a thread of red or yellow silk was adopted by the Rājputs
(_Āīn_, i. 267; Jaffur Shurreef, _Qanoon-e-Islam_, 26; Manucci ii.
346).]
Footnote 11.6.12:
[The usual form is: _Bher bakrī ek ghāt pītē hain_, ‘The wolf and the
goat drink at the same river steps.’]
Footnote 11.6.13:
[This is the reading by Dr. Tessitori, who remarks: “The above, of
course, is Sanskrit.”]
Footnote 11.6.14:
[Imli, _Tamarindus indica_; semal, _Bombax heptaphyllum_; sākhu or
sagwān, the teak, _Tectona grandis_; tendu, _Diospyrus embryopteris_;
dhao, _Anogeissus latifolia_.]
Footnote 11.6.15:
[Pāliya, ‘a protective, guardian,’ or ‘home of the guardian spirit’;
often erected to Rājputs or others dying on the field of battle. At
the Kāli Chaudas festival, 14th dark half of Āsho, these stones are
daubed with red lead, and coco-nuts are offered (Enthoven, _Folklore
Notes, Gujarāt_, 90; _BG_, ix. Part I. 218, 363 f.; Forbes, _Rāsmāla_,
691).]
Footnote 11.6.16:
The same practice is described by Park as existing in Africa. [Such
trees are known in Gujarāt as ‘Rag Uncle’ (Forbes, _Rāsmāla_, 452). On
rag-trees see E. S. Hartland, _Legend of Perseus_, ii. 175 ff.; W.
Crooke, _Popular Religion and Folklore of N. India_, 2nd ed. i. 161
ff.]
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