Friendly Lamas--Chanden Sing and Mansing purified--Mansing's
sarcasm--Pilgrims to Mansarowar and their privileges--For
luck!--Outside the Gomba.
SEVERAL Lamas came to visit me in the morning, and professed to be
pleased to see us; in fact they asked me to go and pay them a visit in
the Lamasery and temple. They said there was much sickness in the
village, and as they believed me to be a Hindoo doctor, they wished I
could do something to relieve their sufferings. I promised to do all I
could, and was very glad to have this unique chance of visiting a
Lamasery, and of studying the cases that would be brought before me. I
carried my rifle in my hand even during this friendly visit to the Lamas.
When I came out of our stuffy, dark room, preceded and followed by a
crowd of inquisitive natives, I had a good look round this strange
village. After the storm of the night, we did not have the beautiful blue
sky that might have been expected, but over us hung threatening clouds,
while the waters of the sacred lake, softly moved by the wind, made a
gentle lapping sound on the beach. Chanden Sing and Mansing, the two
Hindoos, divested of all their clothing except a _doti_, were squatting
near the edge of the lake, having their heads shaved clean by Bijesing
the Johari. I must confess that I was somewhat annoyed when I saw them
using my best razor for the purpose, but I repressed my anger on
remembering that, according to their religion, the fact of being at
Mansarowar absolved them from all sins. My two servants, with heads
turned towards Kelas Mount, seemed excited, and were praying so fervently
that I stood to watch them. They washed themselves repeatedly in the
water of the lake, and at last plunged into it. On coming out shivering,
they each took out of their clothes a silver rupee, and flung it into
the lake as an offering to the God Mahadeva. Then, with hairless faces
and heads, they dressed and came to pay their salaams to me, professing
to be now happy and pure.
"Siva, the greatest of all gods, lives in the waters of Mansarowar,"
exclaimed my bearer in a poetic mood. "I have bathed in its waters, and
of its waters I have drunk. I have salaamed the great Kelas, the sight of
which alone can absolve all sins of humanity; I shall now go to heaven."
"I shall be satisfied if we get as far as Lhassa," grumbled the sceptical
Mansing, out of ear-reach of the Tibetans.
Chanden Sing, who was well versed in religious matters, explained that
only Hindoo pilgrims who had lost both parents shaved their heads on
visiting Mansarowar, as a sacrifice to Siva, and if they were of a high
caste, on their return to their native land after the pilgrimage, it was
customary to entertain all the Brahmins of the town to a banquet. A man
who had bathed in Mansarowar was held in great respect by everybody, and
commanded the admiration and envy of the entire world.
The Mansarowar Lake is about forty-six miles round, and those pilgrims
who wish to attain a greater state of sanctity make a _kora_ or circuit
on foot, along the water-line. The journey occupies from four to seven
days, according to circumstances, and one trip round will absolve the
pilgrim from ordinary sins; twice the circuit clears the conscience of
any murder; and three times will make honest and good a person who has
killed his or her father, mother, brother or sister. There are fanatics
who make the tour on their knees, others accomplish the distance lying
down flat at each step on their faces like the pilgrims to Kelas.
According to legend, Mansarowar was created by Brahma, and he who shall
bathe in its waters will share the paradise of Mahadeva! No matter what
crimes he may have previously committed, a dip in the holy lake is
sufficient to purge the soul as well as the body! To please my men,
therefore, and perhaps bring myself some luck, I too hurled a couple of
coins into the water.
The purifying ablutions being over, I ordered Chanden Sing to take his
rifle and follow me into the Gomba, as the Lamas were so polite that I
feared treachery on their part.
The large square building, with its walls painted red and its flattish
dome of gilt copper, rose by the water-side, and was both picturesque and
handsome in its severe simplicity.
There came sounds from inside of deep, hoarse voices muttering prayers,
the tinkling of bells and clanging of cymbals. From time to time a drum
was beaten, giving a hollow sound, and an occasional and sudden touch
upon a gong caused the air to vibrate until the notes in a gradual
diminuendo were carried away over the holy lake.