AUSH-ER, JUNE.
THE BATH OF JOGGER-NAUTH.--THE WORSHIP OF THE RIVER GUNGA.
It has been observed in the beginning of this book that the structure
of modern Hindooism is the work of time. The fancy, ignorance, and
interest of men have decorated its different parts with golden hues
which fascinate the senses, and satisfy the minds of the weak. After
the laying down of the corner-stone it has received abundant supply
of forms and new institutions from various quarters, and consequently
grown fast and bulky within a few hundred years. Although it has grown
old it retains a healthy, youthful vigor, keeps on growing, and will
continue to do so until the “pure and undefiled religion” shall strike
like thunderbolts on its thousand cemented headstones, and reduce its
tall form to the very base which stands on simplicity, truth, and love.
The bath of Jogger-nauth is comparatively a new institution, and
owes its birth to a fictitious legend. There is a great temple of
Jogger-nauth in Orissa on the sea-shore above Madras. The images of
Jogger-nauth, Bollo-ram his brother, and Shoo-vothra, his sister,
are costly, but very awkward, made of a peculiar kind of wood called
_Nimbh_. All other Hindoo idols are beautifully constructed in
male or female human figures, quite unlike these of Jogger-nauth and
his friends, which look neither like man, woman, horse, nor dog. A
great many of the Hindoos make fun of Bisho-corma (Universal Artist),
who is believed to have built the temple and image of Jogger-nauth.
Here is the remark: “The construction of Jogger-nauth has displayed the
poor taste of Bisho-corma in delicate arts.”
However, the homeliness of the image does not interfere with the
reverence and love which the people have for it. I have heard the
remarks of those who had visited Jogger-nauth, saying: “That when on
our way, which is long, inhospitable, and uncomfortable, I said, Let
not my enemy whose ill I seek after come this way; but standing before
the gate of the temple, I exclaimed, Would that I had the millions of
stars for my eyes, that I could see the ‘moon-like face’ of the god!
O, let the mothers forsake their babies, husbands their wives, and
wives their husbands, and come to feast themselves on the sacred graces
of Jogger-nauth.” It is very natural that they should say so, for
there are two ways which guide us in our decision in regard to beauty
and accomplishment. To some the external beauty of an object takes
the place of an internal accomplishment; while to others the inward
accomplishment, tenderness, and purity of character stand instead of
the outward beauty of the casket. When we are quite pleased with some
charming object, we are apt to take for granted what is not visible
in it. And again, when we see an object through the glass of love, it
stands before our eyes, if not before the world, with a charm which
is rarely visible to others. There is a fine anecdote illustrative of
this. A handsome Bengal young man was ridiculed by his friends for
his love of a homely woman, whose fine mental and moral culture was
unrivalled. The young man begged them to see her through his loving
eyes.
The Hindoos sincerely believe that Jogger-nauth is the great god of
the universe, and is full of mercy, grace, and goodness. Hence they
overlook the outward defects, and are satisfied with what there is
within. An eminent Bengalee gentleman of Calcutta, in one of his books,
says: “What a pity it is that a diamond of inestimable worth should
sparkle on the forehead of an ugly idol of Orissa.” For the information
of those who might not have a chance to see a Jogger-nauth, I would
describe it just as it is, for it is invariably constructed in the
same way everywhere. Its face is circular, and contains an area which
would hold almost its whole body; the place where the nose grows is as
level as a prairie, his eyes resemble pretty much the Indian snow-shoes
in shape, and his arms are mere stumps. I have said before that
Jogger-nauth has great influence over the Hindoos, even the obstinate
caste system prostrates itself down in his presence. Myriads of men
and women visit Orissa annually to attend to the bath and the car of
Jogger-nauth ceremonies, which follow each other within a month’s
interval. The Jogger-nauth, no matter what it is in substance, is a
name of significant meaning, “the Lord of the Universe.” Jogguth, with
various endings, is the common name of persons in India, thus: Joggo
Bundhoo, Friend of the Universe; Joguth Chunder, which is my name,
means the Moon of the Universe.
Within the enclosure of the temple there is no respect to castes;
and that which destroys caste is freely recognized. In the “aunundho
bazzar,” _market of joy_, which is within the enclosure of the
temple, the Hindoos of every caste would eat of one dish, and what is
more surprising than that, is to see them walk with rice-curries in
their pocket, and putting some into each other’s mouth as they pass.
But I am sorry to say, that, though brotherhood, the sense of equality,
the disregard to castes, is felt and allowed within the walls which
surround the temple, no sooner do the people come out of the enclosure
than this levelling influence dies an instantaneous death! I have often
asked of my Hindoo friends, that if it pleases Jogger-nauth to see love
and equality cherished in us for one another, why cannot we do that
wherever we live,--at our homes in Bengal as well as in his temple in
Orissa? Wherever be our bodies, we are before his presence; the walls
cannot hide us from his sight. If he is God Almighty, his eyes will
easily penetrate the massive walls to watch his children without.
The bath of Jogger-nauth, as a public religious institution, was
unknown to them of olden times. The following circumstance gave rise
to it. Jogger-nauth, in disguise of a boy, had come to bathe in the
sacred river Ganges. He chose Mahesh, a place fourteen miles above
Calcutta, for his appearance. Taking some refreshment at the store of
a confectioner named Kalli Shunker, he gave him a golden ornament in
exchange, and in a minute disappeared from the store. As a testimony
to his divine presence there, a large Nimbh tree bore blossoms of
Champaka. The people were surprised beyond measure to see such a
miracle wrought on the tree, but none could conceive of the agency
which thus manifested its power. The priest of Jogger-nauth not
finding the ornament in the person of the god, began to search the
temple, bedroom of the idol, etc., for it. Careful inquiry was made
in the temple; some junior officers were suspected as having stolen
the “sacred property.” In the night the chief Panda, votary, saw
Jogger-nauth in a dream, and heard him speak as follows: “I had been to
bathe in the Gunga yesterday, where at the store of Kalli Shunker, I
exchanged my ornament for my lunch; that the fact might be a memorial
to the succeeding generations.” The story affirms that they found
the ornament in possession of the confectioner, which circumstance,
together with the Champakas on the Nimbh, proved the affair to the
satisfaction of all. Hence is the origin of the institution of “Stau
Jatra.” From the fact of the god’s appearance in Mahesh, although there
were hundreds of places on the Ganges, it received great renown as the
chosen, favorite place of Jogger-nauth. A wealthy Bengalee gentleman of
Calcutta has built a temple and a car on the spot with the outlay of
an immense sum of money. The bathing is performed on a high altar made
of brick, in the midst of a wide field, which groans under the feet
of myriads on this occasion. It is the next exciting scene to that of
Orissa, but it excels the other in its licentious shows and amusements.
The next general worship is that of Gunga. Very few images are made of
this goddess. They offer the sacrifices on the bank of the river. Every
Hindoo family sends offerings of flowers, incense, eatable things,
and clothes to her. Its water is believed to have a greater degree of
purifying influences on this day than on any other, so that almost
every one who can possibly avail himself of this opportunity, bathes
in the river. I have seen several men wash their dogs, cats, and birds
on this day. It is also believed that the venomous serpents lay their
eggs to-day, and if it should rain, the amount of poison would be less
dangerous! “Monsha,” _the goddess of the serpents_, is worshipped,
as her favor is regarded as the only sure protection against poisonous
creatures.
There are several noble rivers in India, and why should the Hindoos
regard Gunga as sacred so much so that the intrinsic sanctity of its
water can redeem men from their sins, however dark they are? A prayer
offered universally by the Hindoos to this noble river, reads thus:
“Ready Redeemer of all iniquities, Destroyer of all distress, Giver of
happiness and salvation, O Mother Gunga, thou art our only way.” Why
they hold it sacred above other rivers in Hindostan, is a question of
importance which ought to be answered. As the legendary origin of the
sacred river of the Hindoos is known only to them, I would venture,
having the true knowledge of the same, to describe it, and thereby
solve the mystery to those unacquainted with Hindoo mythologies.
But earnest as I am to communicate it to my friends, I find a great
difficulty in my way. It is a long channel of a story, with tributaries
coming into it from various directions. I hardly know where to take
it up, and where to leave it, and at the same time to convey the
true, distinct knowledge of the origin of the sanctity of Gunga to
a Christian reader. I shall not, however, fear the absurdity of the
story, as I do not believe it myself, nor ask the reader to regard it
as true. Odd as this may sound to any one, it shows him the Oriental
method of treating truth, in rich, glowing allegories; the truth is
hidden in their bosom. The river Gunga is another representation of the
goddess Doorgă, the daughter of the Hymaloy mountain, and the wife of
Shiba the Hindoo god. Look at the truth, figuratively expressed! Rivers
issuing from the mountains are their sons and daughters, no doubt, as
the Hindoos name them, and hence the Gunga is the daughter of Hymaloy.
Let us hear the whole story. After the marriage of Shiba with Parboti
(mountaineer) or Giriza (mountain-born), the daughter of Hymaloy, the
god went to reside in Koylas, a romantic chain of the same mountain.
The Hindoo poets call this place finer than any in heaven, which I
doubt not that it is, otherwise the god would not have made it his
favorite abode. The soil is golden, the trees bend under the weight of
delicious fruits, while others smile with bright, fragrant flowers;
the breeze is balmy, and the birds handsome, merry, and singing. On a
certain day, Doorga was sitting on a golden throne with Shiba, when
there appeared a crowd of male and female figures, some with hands
broken, others with legs badly bruised, and the rest had their faces
turned backwards; in short, all of them were disfigured, maimed, and
hurt in the extreme. Shiba smiled at them, at which his wife asked him:
“Lord, who are these that stand before us? Their unhappy fate enlists
my sympathy; my hands and heart are ready to serve them.” Thus, the god
replied: “If it would please thee, goddess! to hear from me the names
and the circumstances of this injured group before thee, lend thy ears
then to the sad story. These are six male and thirty-six female tunes.
The children of the earth had attempted to sing them, and not being
able to manage harmoniously, have left them a quarter or half-finished;
even those who have finished the song, could not preserve the harmony;
for a song and a tune are two different things. Therefore, thou seest
one is with broken wrist, the second is without nose, the third has his
limbs broken, etc.” The goddess wanted to know if there was any way of
making them whole again. Shiba assured her that there was, and that
in _his_ own power too; “that these poor suffering _Tunes_
had in vain sought redress from the renowned singers on the earth, and
finding that human power could not confer upon them the adequate help,
are now before me; I will make them whole.” Accordingly invitations
were sent round the heavens to the gods, and a large audience of the
celestial beings was held at the pleroma of Shiba. A Sage invented a
musical instrument for the occasion, which was called Tăn poorā, or
Tune-perfecter.
I need not say anything about the singing of the god, which satisfied
the whole gathering. Now Krishto being naturally mild, delicate, and
pleasure-seeking, was so much moved at the music that he perspired.
The astonished gods held a counsel, and commissioned Bromha to
receive the perspiration that was dropping from his feet in his
pitcher “_Comoondul_,” and to preserve the sacred relic in his
possession. So he did. With a heart overflowing with joy the Creator
held his _Comoondul_ under the feet of Krishto, for he knew that
out of them issued the life and immortality for the Hindoo sinners.
They called the _water_ (perspiration of Krishto), Gunga. Here
is the brief account of the birth of the Sacred River of the Hindoos,
showing from what a sacred source it is derived, how and under what
circumstances, etc. I will now turn to the fact which brought it into
the world from the house of Bromha; which advent is looked upon by the
Hindoos with as much joyous enthusiasm as that with which a Christian
looks upon Christmas. For there is this point of resemblance between
the mission of Christ and that of Krishto: Christ washes the sin of the
world, however dark it is, with his blood; while, on the other hand,
the perspiration of Krishto redeems the Hindoos from their sins, washes
away the impurities that stain their lives, and brings immortality to
the dead and lost. Indeed, to a Hindoo a drop of water of Gunga is
itself a Life and Light, and the only way to enter into the everlasting
joys in the Goluck of Krishto. Christ saw Satan fall from the sky;
his advent took out the sting of Death, so we hear the stories of
_Jom_ (Death) complaining of the emptiness of his womb or cell.
Frequently we read the account of the quarrel between the angels of
Krishto and _Jom_ touching the fate of a man who, spending his
whole life in sin and unbelief, had thrown himself into the water
of the Ganges in his last moments. The services of Ganges are more
beneficent to the Hindoo than the blood of Christ to the Christian.
We are taught to believe in Christ,--his holy mission,--his fullness
of knowledge and sanctification; but it is quite a different case with
a Hindoo. Even if he did not believe in the sanctifying influence of
his religious nature, and the redeeming power of the Gunga, he goes to
heaven, provided his body or ashes are thrown into its sacred water.
Hence the bank of the Gunga has been a Cross to the Hindoo; it has
been the best place for them in which to die that they may live again.
Thousands--young and old, male and female, pious and sinful--are
brought hither to breathe their last, to throw off corruption and
ascend the Goluck of Krishto. To a Hindoo _death_ in or near
to his Sacred River is a _Gain_. The true end of his being is
accomplished if he succeeds in dropping in and dying near the Ganges,
or Gunga.
* * * * *
The following is an universally-believed account of the advent of the
Sacred River of the Hindoos into the world. The Book containing it is
read and expounded by the learned and eloquent priests to the listening
crowds. The children read it in their school-books, and the Hindoo
monks sing it from place to place. There was an illustrious family
called Shoòjo Bungshoor, the Offspring of the Sun, and which has been
made immortal by Balmica in his celebrated poem Ramayona, as being
the tribe which Rama, the great god, chose, and of which he became
a member. In this family there lived a king of the name of Saugor,
renowned in and esteemed by his time. To use the Hindoo phrase, he was
a terror to the tyrants and a friend to the peaceable, help to the
needy and the delight of the age he lived in. It was customary with
the ancient Hindoo kings to do “Ausho’ med,” a religious ceremony,
to extend his power, peace, help, love, etc., all over the world.
When a king has succeeded in this, has brought every country on the
surface of the globe under his power and protection, the throne of
Indra will be his reward. The throne of Indra had been aspired to by
several kings, but none of them ever reached the prize, the reason
being that he used to interfere with their plans, frustrate their
precaution, and cause them to desist from the undertaking forever. The
leading features of this ceremony of Ausho’ med, and the ways in which
it used to be conducted, are these: A horse, bearing on his forehead
the inscription, “Let _him_ who denies the power of the master
catch the horse,” was sent round the country to the dominions of kings
and nobles, accompanied, however, with armed soldiers. The horse was
sent about the land for the purpose of demanding submission from the
world. In some places he travelled unmolested, and securing submission
for his lord; and wherever the people did stop him, it was understood
that they hated the yoke of dependence. The soldiers would immediately
inquire distinctly the real motive of the man who stopped the horse,
whether it was curiosity or a mistake or a purpose that actuated him.
If it were a mistake, or fancy, they would pardon him, and recover the
horse and unfurl the banner of their king on the spot. If otherwise
they would resort to war. This Saugor, the celebrated king, forwarded
his “sixty thousand” sons in a triumphal expedition, into all the
countries known at his time.[12] They visited the uttermost parts of
the world, ascended the mountains, crossed the rivers, proclaimed the
power of the name of their illustrious father, and brought almost
all the world into subjection. Arriving at a place near the sea, the
princes congratulated each other on their success; and finding no place
where to direct their steps, resolved to return home to their longing
father, who, on their successful return, would perform the ceremony.
Elated with joy at the success of their mission, they all sat down
on the sea-shore to review their past adventures, while the majestic
waves of the sea rolled before them, defying their power, and with
thundering voice declared the power of Him who alone can tell them,
“Thus far shall you come and no farther.” The cool, balmy breezes from
the neighboring forests blew upon them; their joyous spirits felt the
weariness of the flesh, and one after another the veteran princes
wore the garment of sleep; while the horse, incapable of musing upon
the glorious career he had gone through and the victories he had won,
bent his eyes upon the green, shaggy ground before him. The place was
so remote from the populous country, that while it was mid-day there
reigned a death-like silence; no “hurries and bustles,” no sound of
mechanics’ hammer were heard there, save that the distant sea thundered
now and then. The only inhabitant of the place was a Saint Copeel, who,
retiring from the active, pleasure-seeking community, had selected
this romantic spot for his hermitage, to spend his life in prayer and
fasting.
Now Indra, the king of the sky, who had been watching the progress of
these princes with an anxious eye, left his airy throne, descended upon
the earth in the form of a man, and stood on the very spot where the
children of Saugor unconsciously lay. “They have,” he said to himself,
“obtained victory almost over the whole world, and enlisted all the
crowned heads as their subjects; there is no one under the sun to
catch their _horse_ or to obstruct their triumphal course. If
they return to their father to crown him with the world’s victory, to
place the vanquished sovereigns as stools under his feet, Krishto would
offer him the supremacy of the sky. I too, hitherto the lord of the
gods, should become his subject. It is not too late yet. Let me seek
a Brahmun’s wrath to turn the course of the princes. Krishto’s will
be done,” he said, and in a moment he held the rein of the triumphal
horse. He led him to the cottage of Copeel, tied him by his side, and
ascended the cloud for his palace, and from thence looked down at the
result.
Now the tired sun seeks his home beyond the western seas, the singing
tenants of the air bound towards their leafy homes, the wild beasts in
yon forests return to their lairs, while others leave their dens; and
the canopy of darkness is spread over the creation. It was then that
the sons of Saugor rose from their grassy bed. “Early in the morning,”
they say, “we guide our steps towards home--the blessed spot on the
earth! The greetings of our friends, the tender arms of our parents
will receive us. The Ausho med will be celebrated in the presence
of the astonished world; the vanquished kings will be invited, the
Brahmuns worshipped, the poor entertained, the music, dance, and feast
will be observed, and the earth will wear a garment of mirth!” Early in
the morning they arrange their things to start for their home. “Bring
the horse,” one says, “where is he?” Some go after the horse, but do
not find him. He has gone to the forest they think, and a party go in
search of the beast. In vain they roamed through the woods! The horse
could not be found. After a day’s toil, they come near the cottage of
Copeel, and, to their utter surprise find the object of their search,
tied near the altar of the Saint. The venerable saint presented a
curious sight to the princes. He had a piece of “tiger’s skin” for
his raiment, his hair flowing down his shoulders in graceful curls,
eyes closed, hands folded. They took him for a horse-thief. Still as
the rule of the _ceremony_ would not permit them to recover the
horse without the consent of the supposed thief, they called on him to
answer for his conduct. But, alas! there was no sensibility in him.
His heart and soul have bade farewell to the world’s pleasures, and
been fixed upon the throne of Krishto. He did not know what was going
on around him. The princes grew tired of waiting for the answer from
Copeel, and began to speak to him in the following way: “Friend, if you
are really afraid of us, and feel sorry for what you have done, say
so; we shall choose mercy and not sacrifice. We have sworn before the
gods to protect the horse, and, wherever he is caught, not to recover
him in secret. What object have you in bringing the horse here? Is it
poverty, pride, or fancy that actuated you to hold the triumphal horse
of Saugor? Return our horse to us, and we will pardon you, and give you
other horses if you wish for them; or if you dare to be our rival, tell
us distinctly, that we may take the necessary course.” The entreaties,
persuasions, reasonings, threatenings, effected nothing. It seemed
as if they spoke to a senseless statue. Failing in their efforts to
adjust the matter satisfactorily to both parties, and knowing it would
be shameful to carry away the horse, one of them kicked the innocent
Brahmun. The insulting touch of the foot to his sacred person broke
the spiritual dream of Copeel; he felt this intrusion in the extreme;
thought some evil spirits were trying to endanger his life; he looked
upon the sons of Saugor in wrath, and they were instantly burnt to
ashes.[13] The account of this disaster reached the anxious king, who
came himself to the spot to soothe the injured Brahmun with prayer and
worship, and thereby to beg of him the salvation of his sons.[14]
The Saint Copeel took pity upon the king, and said that the only way to
redeem the souls of his sixty thousand sons was the blessing of Gunga,
then in possession of Bromho. Saugor returned to his own palace, and
soon after joined his sons in the upper world.
Now the gods assembled in heaven to consider what was to be done
towards the sons of Saugor or his family. As there was no male child in
it to help its growth, the first and the last fell before the wrath of
the Brahmun. This Bongsho (_Stock_) is to be preserved, or Rama
will not come out of it for the redemption of the world. Accordingly a
Monie (saint) was sent to this family of widows to bless and console
them in their sorrows. At the presence of the Monie at the door, one
widow came forward to receive him, and fell down on the ground to
kiss his sacred feet. “Be thou the mother of a child, daughter!” were
the words of blessing that fell from the lips of the Brahmun. The
embarrassed woman rose from the ground, and with tears in her eyes
addressed him as follows: “Lord, thy daughter is a widow; how then
should she be a mother? It has pleased Krishto to extinguish the family
of Saugor, so at once the sixty thousand sons perished in the wrath of
Copeel! Thou knowest all this,--the magnitude of the sad story, holy
father!” “Be comforted, daughter, lament not,” the Brahmun said; “the
sons of Saugor will be redeemed and his family be continued, for Rama
has chosen it for his incarnation. My words that have fallen upon thee
_must_ be fulfilled. It is the will of the gods that thou shalt
bring forth a son for the redemption of the family. He will find favor
in the sight of Gunga, who, leaving the house of Bromho, shall come
into the world first to wash away the iniquities of the sons of Saugor,
and then of the world in general.” In due time the widow queen, at the
visitation of the blessing of the saint, gave birth to a son, which
circumstance brought universal joy to the world. The Brahmuns came to
bless the babe, and called him by the name of Vogiroth. The child,
owing to the peculiar circumstances of his birth, had no bones in his
body; was a mere lump of flesh, could not walk or move about without
making awkward gestures.[15] As he was busy one day in arranging his
playthings, a Monie called him Oshto Bunko. (He was very awkward in
his person, and crooked; so they called him by the name, “eight
curves,” his body being in so many places broken perhaps.) The prince,
although only four years old or more, had been trained by his mother to
salute the Brahmuns reverently, and to pay them the due homage. Seeing
the Brahmun coming before him, he left his playthings in order to
salute him, but, being without bones in his body, his movements enraged
the object of his worship. The Brahmun thought the boy was making fun
of him, by imitating his ungraceful gestures; and thus interpreting the
child’s innocent deeds, cursed him. “Proud prince, darest thou mock my
awkward person, which Krishto has given me? In despising my person thou
dost despise my maker. Let it be according to thy will; if pride has
led thee to mock at me, be thou awkward like me; and if owing to some
defect in thy own person thou didst make the irreverent gestures, be
thou whole, and henceforth live a handsome child.” To the joy of the
child and his relatives, the “cursing of the Brahmun begat blessing,”
at that very moment he stood before the saint with a well-proportioned,
stout, and handsome person!
At the age of five he was put under the tuition and guidance of a
celebrated sage. Besides the mental and physical training, the sage
took particular care to develop the spiritual nature of his pupil, to
set his infant step in the path of truth, to inspire his simple heart
with the love for the gods. His relations did not bring the knowledge
of the great calamity that had befallen the family to the child’s
notice. Every precaution was taken to keep from his knowledge even the
word _father_. One day, as he was playing with the young children
in the neighborhood, he heard them ask each other’s father’s name.
The turn came to him, and a boy asked him what his father’s name was.
A difficult question to answer, for he had never heard the name of
_father_ in his house, and never seen a _man_ who was so
related to him, except the teacher and other Brahmuns, who often came
to console the widows with their kind words. “Friends,” he said, “ask
the names of my mother, aunts, teacher, &c., and I will tell you; I do
not know who my father is. In our house we have no such relative.” The
children burst into laughter, to the mortification of Vogiroth, and
began to express their surprise in their childish way. The fatherless
prince left his gay comrades for his mother, who he hoped would adjust
the matter, and teach him to answer the questions of the children in
future. The joke of the boys had pained him so much that his blooming
face seemed pale. Embarrassment threw a thick veil on his forehead, and
it looked like the moon in eclipse. His hasty steps trod the chamber
floor, and drew the anxious household around him. “Mother!” burst
forth the insulted child, “I was very much pained by unkind words of
the boys, one of which I did not fully comprehend, so I came to you to
have it explained. Strange words, mother, they uttered, which I alone
among them was unacquainted with. ‘_Father_’! what does it mean?
The boys asked me the name of my _father_, which I could not tell;
where is my father, and what is his name, mother?” The troubled queen
heard the sad recital with sighs; and, as the child seemed determined
to know all about the mysterious term _father_, she could not keep
the fact in secret any longer. “Krishto’s will be done,” she said; and
reviewing all the circumstances that characterized the child’s birth,
unfolded the sad fate of the family to the eager ears of Vogiroth,--how
the sixty thousand sons of Saugor were consumed to ashes by the Brahmun
whom they had insulted, &c. Every word that fell from the lips of the
queen penetrated the soul of the child, and filled his heart with deep
longing about the redemption of his ancestors. “Mother, is there any
power in the world that can redeem them from their cursed death?”
“There is none, child! The insulted Brahmun has kindly told us that
the sacred water of Gunga would wash their sins, if that could be
brought into the world.” “Where is the abode of Gunga, mother, and who
is she that washeth away the sins of men?” Trusting to Gunga, as the
result of these inquiries, the queen informed the child of the name and
attributes of the goddess. The child seemed to be satisfied with these
explanations. Calmness passed upon his stormy soul, but it was for a
short time only. He felt anxious to know how the blessings of Gunga
could be obtained; he believed it was his duty, as the offspring of
Saugor, to serve the spiritual good of his family, and thereby blot out
the stain which it had brought upon itself by insulting the Brahmun.
But he was too young for the undertaking; a mere child of five, strong
and manly as his will appeared to be. At the usual hour of the day,
his tutor, the Brahmun sage, came to the palace, and the child took
his seat at his feet. He could not recite his lesson with the usual
facility; he looked sober, and that was enough to apprise the tutor of
the sad state of his pupil’s mind. Affectionately drawing him close to
his breast, he asked him to tell him what ailed him, and was surprised
at the recital. The child begged him to favor him and help him in the
undertaking, as he had fully determined to obtain the mercy of Gunga,
to redeem the children of Saugor, even if it would cost his life. He
further desired the sage, in that simplicity and inexperience that are
peculiar to his age, to inform him of the place of Gunga,--how he could
arrive there, how long it would take, and how much it would cost, what
kind of a person Gunga was, etc. The venerable sage attempted in vain
to dissuade him from the enterprise, saying it was hardly possible
for an ordinary man to have an interview with the great goddess in
this world of sin; that the sages have spent their lives in prayer and
fasting, away from home and kindred, amidst the wilderness and its
ferocious inhabitants, without any material success; that the heavenly
hosts--the gods--desire to see the goddess, but cannot. The child heard
all these with much solicitude; and, instead of reflecting upon the
discouraging aspect of the case set before him by his teacher, asked
him one more question. It was, by what _address_ he should call
upon the Gunga,--what relation she bore to him? “She is the Mother of
the universe,” the sage replied, “and whoever wants to come unto her,
will find that address appropriate and sacred.” The child overflows
with joy on hearing that the goddess is his mother; the dark prospect
before him vanishes away, and he sees the path easy and sunny. “What,”
said he, “shall I fear to go to my mother? The sweet name! It will
melt the heart of the goddess, even if it were made of rock. I do not
know the way; but _faith_ will surely offer its service and be
my guide; the _Kanon_ wilderness is infested with savage beasts;
my _love_ will charm them; there are other obstacles indeed; my
firmness will surmount them all.” Emboldened by such thoughts, and
being determined to reach the prize, he revealed his cherished plan to
the trusting heart of his mother.
After a long discussion, which, of course, took place on the occasion,
she being assured by a “_divine voice_” of the child’s successful
mission, gave her reluctant consent. A Hindoo poet describes the
parting scene to the following effect. The little pilgrim stood before
the weeping household to bid them farewell. The queen, conscious
of the happy success that will crown her son, and unable to resist
the influence of her affection toward him, could neither bid him
_stay_ nor _go_. It required an effort to utter either. “Great
Goddess Doorga,” she prayed, “thy handmaid commits her babe--her only
child--to thy protection. Let thy all-seeing eyes watch his steps,
thy loving-kindness minister unto his wants. Mother Earth! whose name
is Patience, do not take any offence which the infancy of my child
is liable to offer unto thee! Lofty, wide-spreading trees! you whose
branches form canopies over the earth and obstruct the sun’s rays,
shield my little one under your shade,--when he is tired, let him
rest under your branches,--when hungry, feed him with your fruits,
and when in danger, inform me of it by nodding your heads that reach
the sky. Wild beasts! be ye friendly to him. Do not prick his tender
feet, ye thorns; and ye stones, do not hurt them by any means. Day,
when you bid farewell to the world, commit my child to the hand of
your successor; and Night, when you retire, put him into the hands of
Day; and finally, do you both, good Day and Night, return him safe to
the anxious arms of his mother.” The legend proceeds on with the young
pilgrim, who bids good-by to his dear mother and other relatives,
and starts on his journey into the wilderness.[16] The Hindoo poets
paint the early part of this child’s life in the desert with amusing
colors. Wandering a few days among the wild trees, with no word save
“Mother Gunga” in his mouth, he thinks the time has already come for
an interview with the goddess; he encounters a wild beast, and taking
it for the messenger of Gunga, addresses it in the following way:
“Did you come from my Mother Gunga, to bring me hope and consolation?
Glad I am to know that my prayers and tears have reached her gracious
throne, and met with success. Tell me, noble friend, what message have
you for me, the little pilgrim,” etc. Year after year rolled away,
leaving young Vogiroth at his altar in the wilderness. The goddess,
although she was all the time walking with and watching him invisibly,
did not bid his troubled heart be still. Now she sends her angels to
tempt him, and try his faith and adherence to the undertaking, who now
frown upon him with their hideous appearances, then urge him to go
back to his home, alleging the undertaking was too difficult for him;
sometimes they promise the world’s supremacy,--the pleasures of the
Kirnoras,--provided he will give up his cherished plans, etc. But he
heeded little their temptations, and aiming at the mark, made his way
through trials and temptations with manly fortitude.
At last pity awakes in Gunga’s breast. She comes to bless the child,
stands before him, puts her divine hands upon his head, seats him
on her lap, and assures him of her protection forever. When the boy
begged her to come into the world and redeem the children of Saugor,
the goddess at first declined, but at the unceasing prayer and earnest
entreaties of the child she consented to come. Now who should receive
the sacred stream, as it flows down from the Pitcher of Brahma, was a
difficult question, for it was feared the earth would be torn to pieces
by the force of the sacred stream. Shiba, at the solicitation of the
young saint, volunteered to receive Gunga on his head, when it should
fall from the pitcher of the Creator; but the goddess, proud of her own
strength, feared he would not be able to sustain its fury. He read the
secrets of her heart, bent his head to receive the stream, and detained
it for some time within his curls, thereby giving the goddess some idea
of his astonishing power. It is to be observed here, that the sacred
water, as it issued from the possession of Brahma, divided itself into
_three drops_, or equal portions,--the one ascended to heaven in
the name of Monda Kenū, the second descended to the region under the
earth in the name of Vōgōbuthy, and the third, Wlluk-non’dā, remained
on the earth,--thus at once sanctifying three different spheres. Now
as, if the stream should run, it surely would wash away cities, towns,
and whatever happened to be on its way, it was thought prudent to
open channels in the earth, in desolate places, that it might course
through them. Human power was too inadequate for the purpose. Oyrabut,
the mighty elephant of Indra (King of heaven), was called upon, and
by means of his teeth he dug a grand canal on the earth. The legend
says, that as the compensation of his labor he demanded the hand of the
goddess, and she in wrath rushed upon him, breaking his bones to
pieces.
As the stream glided along, it happened to sweep away the Kasa of a
Monie.[17] The Brahmun drank the whole stream, and drained the canal of
its last drop. Vogiroth fell at his feet, told him the sad story of his
undertaking, and begged him to return Gunga to him; because, without
her water, his family would find no salvation.
The venerable Brahmun complied with the prayer of the child, but
knew not how to bring the sacred stream out of his stomach, as it
would be irreverent and wicked to let it issue through either of the
Nobo-dār, nine openings of the body.
Considering the matter seriously, he at last tore the skin of his
Janoo, knee, and the river flowed out of the opening. Hence, another
name of Gunga is Jarnovy. She inquired of the child how far there was
yet to go, and where the ashes of his ancestors were deposited. He
could not answer at all, so she became hundred-headed, and went in
different directions in search of the ashes of the children of Saugor.
Thus do the Hindoos account for so many mouths of the Ganges that meet
the sea.
Such is the legend of Gunga, the sacred river of the Hindoos. It is
universally believed to be a true account of the goddess. The place
where the river meets the sea, particularly near the Saugor Island, is
regarded as a sacred spot, and is visited by the Hindoos once a year,
in the month of _Maugh_, or January. Here the assembled myriads
bathe in and worship the Gunga. It being more than an ordinary bath,
and performed in such a sacred spot as the Sungh-um--the confluence
of Gunga with the sea--it is deemed by very many necessary to avail
themselves of the opportunity, and make the best possible use of the
occasion. Before plunging the body into water, the man stands near the
Brahmun priest, and confesses to God whatever sin he has committed and
can possibly remember.
This is the Hindoo mode of Repentance.
We are told of a real conservative priest of Eastern Bengal, who would
have his people confess audibly and distinctly the iniquities they had
committed, specifying them by their name, nature, and circumstance, and
thus making the matter worse, after all.
But now the confession is made and heard by the individual sinners
themselves; no ears of the priest or bystanders hear anything. It is
believed that the goddess, who heareth in secret, shall forgive and
reward them openly.
In conclusion, it would not be out of place, I think, to speak, in this
connection, of the reverence the Hindoos pay to their Sacred River. The
long arms of caste cannot reach a victim if he happens to be on its
water. In sailing as well as in row-boats, which crowd on the Ganges,
the members of all castes sit side by side, talk to each other, smoke
their _hookas_, and take their luncheon; but these things _could
not_ be done in a vehicle on land. A Brahmun would eat his luncheon
on a boat having a low-caste man,--a shoemaker, perhaps,--only a few
feet from him, because the holiness of the river takes away, in some
degree, the difference that exists between the two castes.[18] They
sprinkle its water upon everything almost, for purifying purposes.
Those who bathe in ponds drop a few drops of Gunga water on their
heads. A Hindoo who would speak lies, or bear false witness against
his brother, with a hard heart, if urged to do it with a cup of Ganges
water in his hand, would keep his conscience clear, for he will not
dare to speak lies then!
In courts of justice the witnesses had to touch the holy water in
giving their depositions; now they are simply reminded of its presence.
If any one should speak _truth_, calling the Gunga for his
witness, it is regarded sinful. It often happens that when a rich man
is robbed of his gold or silver, and the police recovers it, he is
required to claim it by _oath_, that is, by touching the water
of the Ganges, but he would not. The very idea of swearing or taking
oath in the presence of an adorable object is abominable to him; he
would rather go away poor and suffering than retain or acquire money
that way. In order that it might be regarded most solemnly, the Hindoos
believe that when a man swears falsely in the name of a holy person or
thing, not only he is condemned, but also “fourteen ancestors” suffer
for it. There are, however, thousands who do not observe all these
rules. I speak of the rules themselves.