After a few nervous darts and tail whiskings, a bold squirrel would

skip up close, and, after eating a little ground bait, would boldly

come up and nibble out of a motionless hand. In two minutes

half-a-dozen pretty little creatures would be fidgeting round, eating

bread and butter daintily, neatly holding the morsel in their little

forepaws and nuzzling into one’s fingers for more.

A handsome magpie, and, of course, a contingent of crows, made up the

fascinating party; while in the background, among the neem trees and

the flaming “gold mohurs,” the minahs and green parrots sustained an

incessant and riotous conversation.

_Wednesday, October 25_.—Gladly would we have accepted the Jacobs’

invitation to stay longer at Jaipur. We would have liked nothing

better, but time was flying, and the 5th November—our day of departure

from Bombay—was drawing rapidly near. So yesterday evening we took the

6.30 train for Ajmere, and, reaching there at 10.30, changed into the

narrow-gauge railway for Chitor. We are becoming well accustomed to

sleeping in an Indian train, and Sabz Ali had our beds unrolled and our

innumerable hand luggage stowed away in no time, including four bottles

of soda-water, which he has carefully garnered in the washstand, and

which no hints, however broad, will induce him to relinquish.

CHAPTER XVI

UDAIPUR

We arrived, very sleepy and gritty, at Chitor at 5.30 A.M., to find an

unprecedented mob of first-class passengers _en route_ for Udaipur, and

only one very minute compartment in which to stow them.

The station-master—a solemn Baboo, full of his own importance,

becomingly clad in a waving white petticoat, with bare legs and

elastic-sided boots, surmounted by a long cutaway frock-coat, topped by

a black skull-cap, and finally decorated by a pen behind his ear—seemed

totally unable to cope with the terrible problem he was set to solve.

I suggested that another carriage should be put on, but he had none,

nor any solution to offer; so we cleared a second-class compartment and

divided the party out, and then, with five people in our tiny

compartment, we set out on the fifty-mile run to Udaipur.

Five people in a carriage in Europe is nowise unusual, but five people

in an Indian one (and that a narrow, very narrow gauge), accompanied by

rolls of bedding, tiffin-baskets, and all the quantity of personal

luggage which is absolutely necessary, not to speak of a large-sized

bird-cage (which cannot, strictly speaking, be classed as a necessary),

requires the ingenuity of a professional packer of herrings or figs to

adjust nicely!

By cramming the toilet place with bedding, khudsticks, a five-foot

brass lamp-stand, and the four soda-water bottles, we made shift to

stow portmanteaux, bags, tiffin-baskets, &c., under the seats and

ourselves upon them, and then arranged a sort of centre-piece of Jane’s

big tin bonnet-box, surmounted by Freddy in his cage. The other

passengers were very amiably disposed, and not fat, and they even went

so far as to pretend to admire Freddy—a feat of some difficulty, as he

is still very bald and of an altogether forbidding aspect. This

admiration so won upon the heart of Jane, that in the fulness thereof

she served out biscuits and a little tinned butter all round, while

Freddy cheerfully spattered food and water upon all indiscriminately.

About eighteen miles from Udaipur we passed the ruins of Ontala. Here,

in the stormy time when Jehangir had seized Chitor, there happened a

desperate deed.

The Rana of Mewar, expelled from his capital, determined to attack and

retake Ontala. Now, the Rajputs were divided into clans as fiery as any

of those whose fatal pride went far to ruin Bonnie Prince Charlie at

Culloden. The Chondawats and the Saktawats both claimed the right of

forming the vanguard, and the Rana, unable to pronounce in favour of

either, subtly decided that the van should be given to the clan which

should first enter Ontala.

The Saktawats then made straight for the one and only gateway to the

fortress, and, reaching it as day broke, almost surprised the place,

but the walls were quickly manned and defended. Foiled for a moment,

the leader of the Saktawats threw himself from his elephant, and,

placing himself before the great spikes with which the gate was

protected against the assault of the beast, ordered the mahout to

charge; and so a crushed and mangled corpse was forced into the city on

the brow of the living battering-ram, in whose wake the assailants

rushed to battle.

Alas! his sacrifice was in vain. The Chondawat chief was already in

Ontala. First of the stormers with scaling-ladders, he was shot dead by

the defenders ere reaching the top of the rampart, and his corpse fell

back among his dismayed followers. Then the chief of Deogurh, rolling

the body in his scarf, tied it upon his back, fought his way to the

crest of the battlements, and hurled the gory body of his chieftain

into the city, shouting, “The vanguard to the Chondawat!”

It is further told how, when the attack began, two Mogul chiefs of note

were engaged within upon a game of chess. Confident of the strength of

the defence, they continued their game, unheeding the din of battle.

Suddenly the foe broke in upon them, upon which they calmly asked for

leave to finish their interesting match. The request was granted by the

courtly Rajputs, but upon its termination they were both put to death.

Udaipur lies in a well-cultivated basin, shut in by a ring of arid

hills. After skirting the flanks of some of the outlying spurs, we

bustled through a tunnel and drew up at a bright little station, draped

with great blue and pink convolvulus. And this was Udaipur.

We were picked out of the usual jabbering, jostling, gibbering crowd of

natives by our host, who, looking most enviably cool and clean, took

his heated, dishevelled, and unbarbered guests off to a comfortable

carriage, and we were quickly sped towards tiffin and a bath.

The station is a long way from the town, as the Maharana, a most

staunch conservative of the old school, having the railway more or less

forced upon him, drew the line at three miles from his capital, and

fixed the terminus there. One cannot help being glad that the prosaic

steam-engine, crowned with foul smoke and heralded by ear-piercing

whistles, has not been allowed to trespass in Udaipur, wherein no

discordant note is struck by train line or factory chimney, and where

everything and every one is as when the city was newly built on the

final abandonment of Chitor, the ancient capital of Mewar.

Here in the heart of the most conservative of native States, whose

ruler, the Maharana, Sir Fateh Singh, claims descent from that ancient

luminary the Sun, we found novelty and interest in every yard of the

three miles that stretch between the station and the capital. The

scrub-covered desert has given place to a wooded and cultivated valley,

ringed by a chain of hills, sterile and steep. The white ribbon of the

road, through whose dust plough stolid buffaloes and strings of

creaking bullock-carts, is bordered by tall cactus and yellow-flowered

mimosa on either side. Among the trees rise countless half-ruined

temples and chatries; on whose whitewashed walls are frequent frescoes

of tigers or elephants rampant, and of wonderful Rajput heroes wearing

the curious bell-shaped skirt, which was their distinctive dress.

The people too, their descendants, who crowd the road to-day, are

remarkable—the men fine-looking, with beards brushed ferociously

upwards, and all but the mere peasants carrying swords; the women,

dark-eyed, and singularly graceful in their red or orange saris, and

very full bell-shaped petticoats. Upright as darts, they walk with

slightly swaying gesture, a slender brown arm upraised to support the

big brass chatties on their heads, revealing an incredible collection

of bangles on arms and ankles. These women are the descendants of those

who, in the stormy days of the sixteenth century, while the Rajput

princes still struggled heroically with the all-powerful Mogul

emperors, preferred death to shame, and, led by Kurnavati (mother of

Oodi Singh, the founder of Udaipur), accepted the “Johur,” or death by

fire and suffocation, to the number of 13,000, while their husbands and

brothers threw open the city gates and went forth to fight and fall.

As we drew near our destination the towers of the Maharana’s Palace

rose up above the trees, gleaming snowy in the cloudless blue. The

brown crenellated walls of the city appeared on our left, and, suddenly

sweeping round a curve, we found ourselves by the border of a lovely

lake, whose blue-rippled waters lapped the very walls of the town. In

the foreground a glorious note of colour was struck by a group of

“scarlet women” washing themselves and their clothes by the margin.

Up a steep incline, and we found ourselves before a verandah, blazing

overhead with bougainvillea, and our hostess waiting to receive us

beneath its cool shade.

In the afternoon, refreshed and rested, we went down to the shore,

where our host had arranged for a state-owned boat and four rowers to

be in waiting. Armed with rods and fishing tackle, we proceeded to see

Udaipur from the lake which washes its northern side. First crossing a

small landlocked bay bordered on the left by a long and picturesque

crenellated wall, and passing through a narrow opening, we found

ourselves in a second division of the water; on the left, still the

wall, with a delightful-looking summer-house perched at a salient

angle; on the right, small wooded islands, the haunt of innumerable

cormorants, who, with snaky necks outstretched, watched us suspiciously

from their eyrie.

A curious white bridge, very high in the centre, barred the view of the

main lake till, passing through the central arch, we found ourselves in

a scene of perfect enchantment. Before us the level sheet of molten

silver lay spread, reflecting the snowy palaces and summer-houses that

stood amid the palms and greenery of many tiny islands. On the left the

city rose from the water in a succession of temples and wide-terraced

buildings, culminating in the lofty pile of the Palace of the Maharana.

Here, on this enchanted lake, we rowed to and fro until the sun sank

swiftly in the west and the red gold glowed on temple and turret.

Then, with our catch, about 15 lbs. weight of most excellent fish, we

rowed back past the white city to the landing-place, and, in the

gathering dark, climbed the hillock upon which stood our host’s

bungalow.

We spent a week at Udaipur—a happy week, whose short days flew by far

too quickly. The weather was splendid; hot in the middle of the day—for

the season is late, and the monsoon has greatly failed in its cooling

duty—but delightful in morning and evening.

Rising one morning at early dawn, before the sun leaped above the

eastern hills, we took boat and rowed to one of the island palaces,

where, after fishing for mahseer, we breakfasted on a marble balcony

overlooking the ripples of the Pichola Lake, which lapped the feet of a

group of great marble elephants.

Not the least interesting expedition was to the south end of the lake

one afternoon to see the wild pigs fed. Traversing the whole length of

the Pichola, past the marble ghâts where the crimson-clad women washed

and chattered, while above them rose the roofs and temple domes of the

fairy city culminating in the walls and pinnacles of the palace—past

the fleet of queer green barges wherein the Maharana disports himself

when aquatically inclined, we left the many islands marble-crowned on

our right; and finally landed at a little jutting ledge of rock, whence

a jungle track led us in a few minutes to a terrace overlooking a rocky

and steep slope which fell away from the building near which we stood.

The scene was surprising! Hundreds of swine of all sorts and sizes,

from grim slab-sided, gaunt-headed old boars, whose ancient tusks

showed menacing, to the liveliest and sprightliest of little pigs

playing hide-and-seek among their staid relatives, were collected from

the neighbouring jungle to scramble for the daily dole of grain spread

for them by the Maharana.

A cloud of dust rose thick in the air, stirred up by the busy feet and

snouts of the multitude, and grunts and squeals were loud and frequent

as a frisky party of younglings in their play would heedlessly bump up

against some short-tempered old boar, who in his turn would angrily

butt a too venturesome rival in the wind and send him, expostulating

noisily, down the hill!

Beyond the crowd of swine on the edge of the clearing, a few peacocks,

attracted by the prospect of a meal, held themselves strictly aloof

from the vulgar herd.

The whole city of Udaipur is a paradise for the artist—not a corner,

not a creature which does not seem to cry aloud to be painted. The only

difficulty in such _embarras de richesses_ of subject and such

scantiness of time, is to decide what not to do.

Hardly has the enthusiastic amateur sat down to delineate the stately

pile of the palace, soaring aloft amid its enveloping greenery, than he

is attracted by a fascinating glimpse of the lake, where, perhaps, a

royal elephant comes down to drink, or a crimson-clad bevy of Rajputni

lasses stoop to fill their brazen chatties with much chatter and

laughter.

Bewildered by such wealth of subject, one is but too apt to sit at

gaze, and finally go home with merely a dozen pages of scribbles added

to the little canvas jotting-book!

The Palace of the Maharana is a very splendid pile of buildings, as

seen from some little distance crowning the ridge which rises to the

south of the lake, but it loses much of its beauty when closely viewed.

It is, of course, not to be compared architecturally with the

master-works of Agra and Delhi, and the internal decorations are

usually tawdry and uninteresting. The entrance is fine; the visitor

ascends the steep street to the principal gate, a massive portal,

strengthened against the battering of elephants by huge spikes, and

decorated by a pair of these animals in fresco-rampant. Beyond the

first gate rises a second or inner gate. On the right are huge stables

where the royal elephants are kept, and on the left stand a row of

curious arches, beneath one of which the Maharanas of old were wont to

be weighed against bullion after a victory, the equivalent to the royal

avoirdupois being distributed as largesse to his people!

Within the gates, a long and wide terrace stretches along the entire

front of the Palace, on the face of which is emblazoned the Sun of

Mewar, the emblem of the Sesodias. This terrace was evidently the happy

home of a great number of cows, peacocks, geese, and pigeons, which

stalked calmly enough, among the motley crowd of natives, and gave one

the impression of a glorified farmyard. The building itself, like most

Indian palaces, is composed of a heterogeneous agglomeration in all

sorts of sizes and styles. Each successive Maharana having apparently

added a bit here and a bit there as his capricious fancy prompted.

Jane visited the armoury to-day with the Resident, who went to choose a

shield to be presented by the Maharana to the Victoria Museum at

Calcutta. I chose to go sketching, and was derided by Jane for missing

such a chance of seeing what is not shown to visitors as a rule. She

whisked away in great pomp in the Residential chariot, preceded by two

prancing sowars on horseback, and subsequently thus related her

experiences:—

“We really drove up far too fast to the Palace, I was so much

interested in the delightful streets; and we just whizzed past the

innumerable shrines and queer shops, and frescoed walls, where

extraordinary lions and tigers, and Rajput warriors, riding in wide

petticoats on prancing steeds, were depicted in flaming colours. I

wanted, too, to gaze at the native women, in their accordion-pleated,

dancing frocks of crimson or dark blue; but it seemed to be the correct

thing for a ‘Personage’ to drive as fast as possible, and try to run

over a few people just to show them what unconsidered trifles they

were. Well, we were received at the entrance to the Palace by one of

the Prime Ministers. There are two Prime Ministers—one to criticise and

frustrate the schemes of the other; the result being, as the Resident

remarked, that it is not easy to get any business done. Our Prime

Minister was dressed in a coat of royal purple velvet, on his head was

wound a big green turban, and round his neck hung a lovely necklet of

pearls and emeralds, with a pendant of the same, he had also earrings

to match. It was truly pitiful to see such ornaments wasted on a fat

old man.”

“Going up a narrow and rather steep staircase, we came to a small hall

full of retainers of his Highness, waiting until it should please him

to appear and breakfast with them, for it is the custom of the Maharana

to make that meal a sort of public function. In the middle of the hall

reposed a big bull, evidently very much at ease and quite at home!”

“A few more steps brought us to the door of the armoury. This is small

and badly arranged, which seems a pity, as there were some lovely

things. Chain armour and inlaid suits lay about the floor in heaps; and

we were shown the saddle used by Akbar during the last siege of Chitor.

The most remarkable things, however, were the Rajput shields, of which

there were some beautiful specimens. They are circular, not large, and

made, some of tortoiseshell, some of polished hippo hide, &c. One was

inlaid with great emeralds, a second had bosses of turquoise, and a

really lovely one was inlaid with fine Jaipur enamel in blue and green.

There were swords simply encrusted with jewels—one with a hilt of

carved crystal; another was a curiously-modelled dog’s head in smooth

silver, and I noticed a beauty in pale jade. Altogether it was a most

fascinating collection, different from, but in its way quite as

interesting, as the fine armoury at Madrid.”

Thus did Jane triumph over me with her description of what she had seen

and what I had missed; and I had been trying to delineate the Temple of

Jagganath, and had been disastrously defeated, for it is indeed a

complicated piece of drawing, and the children, both large and small,

crowded round me to my great hindrance. Therefore, it was not until I

had been soothed with an excellent lunch, and the contents of a very

long tumbler, that I felt strong enough to take an intelligent interest

in the contents of the Maharana’s curiosity-shop!

_Monday, October_ 30.—The more we see of Udaipur the more we are

charmed with it. The whole place is so absolutely unspoilt by

modernism, is so purely Eastern—and ancient Eastern at that—that we

feel as though we were in a little world far apart from the great one

where steam and electricity shatter the nerves, and drive their victims

through life at high pressure.

Ringed in by a rampart of arid hills, beyond which the scrub-covered

desert stretches for miles, the peaceful city of Udaipur lies secluded

in an oasis, whose centre is a turquoise lake. High in his palace the

Maharana rules in feudal state, and, like Aytoun’s Scottish Cavalier,

“A thousand vassals dwelt around—all of his kindred they,

And not a man of all that clan has ever ceased to pray

For the royal race he loves so well.”

For to his subjects the Maharana is little less than a divinity, for is

he not a direct descendant of the Sun? Likewise is he not the chief of

the only royal house of Rajputana, who disdained to purchase Mogul

friendship at the price of giving a daughter in marriage to the

Mohammedan?

There are greater personages among the ruling Princes of India,

according to British ruling—Hyderabad, for instance. And in the matter

of precedence and the number of guns for ceremonial salutation, the

Chief of Mewar—like other poor but proud nobles—is treated rather

according to his actual power than the cloudless blue of his blood.

Hence he is extremely unwilling to put himself in a position where he

might fail to obtain the honour which he considers due to him. He was

most averse from attending the Delhi Durbar, but such pressure was put

upon him that he was induced to proceed thither in his special train

running, as far as Chitorgarh, upon his own special railway. He reached

Delhi, and his sponsors rejoiced that they had indeed got him to the

water, although they had not exactly induced him to drink. As a matter

of fact, the Maharana, having gone to Delhi to please the British

authorities, promptly returned to Udaipur to please himself, alleging a

terrific headache as reason for instant departure from the capital,

without his having left his very own specially reserved first-class

compartment!

He may not be a willing guest, but he is evidently disposed to be an

excellent host, for great preparations are toward for the reception of

the Prince of Wales, who is expected in the course of a fortnight or

so.

The Residency, too, is being swept and garnished, the garden already

looking like a miniature camp, with tents for the suite all among the

flower-beds.

_Tuesday, October_ 31.—A day or two ago we arose betimes, and before

sunrise embarked in the State gig (which was always, apparently, placed

at our host’s disposal on demand), and set forth to catch fish for our

breakfast, and then proceed to eat the same on one of the island

palaces on the lake. We did not catch many fish—the mahseer were shy

that morning—but fortunately we did not entirely depend on the caprices

of the mahseer for our sustenance, and a remarkably well-fed and

contented quartette we were when we got into the gig while the day was

yet young, and rowed home as quickly as might be in order to escape the

heat which at noonday is still great.

This afternoon we went for a (to us) novel tea picnic. A State elephant

appeared by request, and we climbed upon him with ladders, and he

proceeded to roll leisurely along at the rate of about two and a half

miles an hour towards the foot of a hill, on the top of which stood a

small summer palace.

The afternoon was warm, and the rhythmic pace drowsy, but our steed was

determined to amuse us and benefit himself. So he blew great blasts of

spray at his own forelegs and chest to cool himself, and now and then

made shocking bad shots at so large a target, and, getting a trifle too

much elevation, nearly swept us from our lofty perch.

Fortunately his stock of spray gave out ere long, or he found that the

increasing gradient of the hill took all his breath, for we were left

at leisure to admire the widening view until we reached the top.

Here we had tea in one of the cool halls, and then sat watching the sun

sink towards the hills that stretch to Mount Aboo.

To the south-east lay Udaipur, milk-white along the margin of its

“marléd” waters.

On our way home we met with an adventure. While prattling to my

hostess, I observed that our toes were rising unduly, the saddle or

howdah being seated somewhat after the fashion of an outside car.

Glancing over my shoulder I descried Jane and her partner far below

their proper level. The howdah was coming round, and our steed was

eleven feet high! Agonised yells to the gentleman who guided the

deliberate steps of the pachyderm from a coign of vantage on the back

of his neck, awoke him to an appreciation of the situation. The

elephant was “hove to” with all possible despatch, and we crawled off

his back with the greatest celerity. We then sat down by the roadside

and superintended the righting of the saddle and the tautening of the

girths by several natives, who “took in the slack” with an energy that

must have made the poor elephant very “uncomfy” about the waist! I

secretly hoped it was hurting him horribly, as I had not forgiven him

for his practical jokes on the way up.

We had no more thrills. Resuming our motor ’bus, in due course, we were

landed opposite the top of our host’s verandah, whereupon the beast

shut himself up like a three-foot rule, and we got to ground.

The inexorable flight of time brought us all too soon to the limit of

our stay at Udaipur. Early on Wednesday the 1st November, therefore, we

bade adieu to the capital of the State of Mewar, and, accompanied by

our kind host and hostess, set out to spend a day in exploring the

ruined city of Chitor before taking train for Bombay.

As we drove to the station, we passed the group of ancient “chatries”

or tombs of dead and gone Ranas of Mewar, and halted for a short

inspection, as, the train by which we were to travel to Chitorgarh

being a “special,” we were not bound to a precise moment for our

appearance on the platform.

Jane, who is perfectly Athenian in her passion for novelty, decided to

travel on the engine, and proceeded to do so; until, at the first

halting-place, a grimy and somewhat dishevelled female climbed into our

carriage, and the next half-hour was fully occupied in scooping smuts

out of her eyes with teaspoons.

It had been arranged that an elephant should await our arrival at

Chitorgarh to take us up to the ancient city, but a careful search into

every nook and cranny failed to reveal the missing animal.

So my host and I set out on foot to cross a mile or so of plain which

spread in deceptive smoothness between us and the ascent to the city.

What seemed a serene and level track became quickly entangled in a maze

of rough little knobs and nullahs, and we took a vast amount of

exercise before arriving at the old bridge which spans the Gamberi

River.

Meanwhile, towering over the scrubby bushes and surrounded by a dusty

halo, the dilatory pachyderm bore down upon us, and, after the mahout

had been interviewed in unmeasured terms by my host, went rolling

slowly to the station to pick up the ladies.

The ancient city of Chitor lies crumbling and desolate on the back of a

long, level-topped hill, which rises solitary to the height of some

five hundred feet above the far-stretching plain. Kipling likens it to

a great ship, up the sides of which the steep road slopes like a

gangway. At the foot lies the modern village, squalid but picturesque.

As we toil, perspiring, up the long ramp which for a weary mile slopes

sidelong up the scarped flank of the mountain, and pass through the

seven gates which guarded the way, and every one of which was the scene

of many a grim and bloody struggle, I will try to sketch the outline of

the history of the famous fort, for many centuries the headquarters of

the royal race of Mewar.

The Gehlotes, or (as they were afterwards styled) the Sesodias, claim

descent from the Sun through Manu, Icshwaca, and Rama Chandra, as

indeed do the other Rajput potentates of Jaipur, Marwar, and Bikanir,

the Rana of Mewar, however, taking precedence owing to his descent from

Lava, the eldest son of Rama.

The ancient dynasty of Mewar has fallen from its high estate, but the

history of its rise is lost in the mists of grey antiquity.

“We can trace the losses of Mewar, but with difficulty her

acquisitions…. She was an old-established dynasty when all the other

States were in embryo.” Long before Richard of the Lion-heart fared to

Palestine to wrest the Holy City from the infidel, “a hundred kings,

its (Mewar’s) allies and dependants, had their thrones raised in

Chitor,” to defend it against the sword of the Mohammedan; while

overhead floated the banner displaying the golden sun of Mewar on a

crimson field.

Some centuries later the Crusaders brought to Europe from the plains of

Palestine the novel device of armorial bearings.

Chitor itself appears to have been in possession of the Mori princes

until, in A.D. 728, it was taken by Bappa, who, though of royal race,

was brought up in obscurity by the Bhils as an attendant on the sacred

kine. This shepherd prince, ancestor of the present Rana of Mewar,

became a national hero, and many legends are still current concerning

him and his romantic deeds. The story of his “amazing marriage,” by

which he succeeded in wedding six hundred damsels all at once, is one

of the most curious. Bappa, while still a youth, was appealed to, one

holiday, by the frolicsome maidens of a neighbouring village, who, led

by the daughter of the Solankini chief of Nagda, in accordance with the

custom upon this particular saint’s day, had come out to indulge in

swinging, but who had forgotten to supply themselves with a

swinging-rope. Bappa agreed to get them one if they would play his game

first. This the young ladies readily agreed to do; whereupon, all

joining hands, he danced with them a certain mystic number of times

round a sacred tree.

“Regardless of their doom, the little victims played,”

and finally dispersed to their homes, entirely unconscious that they

were all as securely married to Bappa as though they had visited Gretna

Green with him.

Some time afterwards, upon the engagement of the Solankini maiden to an

eligible young man, the soothsayer, to whom application had been made

with regard to fixing a favourable and auspicious wedding-day,

discovered from certain lines in her hand that the girl was already

married! Thus the whole story came out, and no less than six hundred

brides assumed the title of Mrs. Bappa.

He seems to have had a passion for matrimony, for when an old man he

left his children and his country, and carried his arms west to

Khorassan, where he wedded new wives and had a numerous offspring. He

died at the age of a hundred!

From the days of the very much married Bappa, until the time of

Samarsi, who was Prince of Chitor in the thirteenth century, the city

continued to flourish and increase in power and importance. Samarsi,

having married Pirtha, sister of Prithi Raj, the lord of Delhi, joined

his brother-in-law against Shabudin. For three days the battle raged,

until the scale fell finally in favour of Shabudin, and the combined

forces of Delhi and Chitor were almost annihilated. “Pirtha, on hearing

of the loss of the battle, her husband slain, her brother captive, and

all the heroes of Delhi and Cheetore ‘asleep on the banks of the Caggar

in a wave of the steel,’ joined her lord through the flames.”

From that time forward the history of Chitor is but a tale of sack and

slaughter, relieved in its murkiest days by flashes of brilliant

heroism and self-sacrificing devotion while the chivalrous Rajputs

struggled vainly against the successive waves of the Mohammedan

invasions, which in a fierce flood for centuries swept over India, and

deluged it with blood.

In the year 1275 Lakumsi became Rana of Chitor. His uncle Bheemsi had

married Padmani, a fair daughter of Ceylon, and her beauty was such

that the fame of it came to the ears of Alla-o-din, the Pathan Emperor.

He promptly attacked the fortress, but without success for a long

period, until he agreed to a compromise, declaring that if he could

merely see the Lady Padmani in a mirror he would be contented and raise

the siege.

His request was granted, and, trusting to the honour of a Rajput, he

entered the city unattended, and was rewarded by a sight of this

Eastern Helen reflected in a mirror. Desirous of showing equal faith in

a noble enemy, Bheemsi accompanied Alla back to his lines, but there he

was captured and held to ransom, Padmani being the price.

Word was now sent to the Emperor that Padmani would be delivered to

him, and seven hundred covered litters were prepared to convey her and

her ladies to Delhi, but each litter was borne by six armed bearers,

and contained no “silver-bodied damsels with musky tresses,” but only

steel-clad warriors, who, upon arrival in the Moslem camp, sprang from

their concealment as surprisingly as Pallas from the head of Zeus.

Alla-o-din was, however, not to be caught napping, and, being prepared

for all contingencies, a fierce combat took place, and the warriors of

Chitor were hard put to it to stand their ground until Bheemsi had

escaped to the stronghold on a fleet horse. Then the devoted remnant

retreated, pursued to the very gates by their foes. The flower of

Chitor had perished, but they had achieved their object. This was

called the “half sack” of Chitor.[1]

[1] These notes on the history of Chitor are taken, it need hardly be

said, from Tod’s _Rajast’han_, he being _the_ authority on Rajputana.

An account of the above incident is given somewhat differently by

Maurice in his _Modern History of Hindostan_ (1803), who also relates

that Akbar used the same trick to enter Rhotas in Behar, after being

long baffled by the apparent impregnability of that fortress.

Fifteen years later, Alla-o-din once more attacked Chitor, and this

time the assaults were so deadly that the garrison was decimated and

utter annihilation stared the survivors in the face. Then to the Rana

appeared the guardian goddess of the city, who warned him that “if

twelve who wear the diadem bleed not for Chitor, the land will pass

from the line.” Now the prince had twelve sons, and, in obedience to

the goddess and in hope of eventually saving their dynasty, eleven of

them cheerfully headed sorties on eleven following days, and were

slain, until only Ajeysi, the youngest, was left alive. Then the Kana

prepared for the end. He sent the boy Ajeysi with a small band by a

secret way, and he escaped to Kailwarra, so that the royal race of

Chitor should not become extinct. Then the women of the city, with the

noble Padmani at their head, accepted the Johur; “the funeral pyre

being lighted within the great subterranean retreat,” they steadfastly

marched into the living grave rather than yield themselves to the will

of the conqueror. All being now ready for the last act of the hideous

drama, the Rana caused the gates to be opened, and with his valiant

remnant of an army fell upon the foe only to perish to a man, and then,

and not till then, did the victorious Alla set foot of a conqueror

within Chitor, where now no living thing remained to stay him from

razing her deserted temples to the ground. The palace of Padmani alone

was spared in this, the first “saka” of Chitor.[2]

[2] The Jain Tower of Fame was also left standing, it dates from about

A.D. 900.

The wrecked stronghold remained an appanage of the Mogul until Hamir,

who, though not the direct heir of Ajeysi, had gained the chieftainship

through his valour, and who, having married a ward of the Hindu

governor of Chitor, by her help regained possession of the fortress.

Defeating the Emperor Mahmoud, Hamir entered Chitor in triumph, and

once again the standard of the Sun floated over its blood-stained

rocks. The Emperor Mahmoud himself was led captive into Chitor, and

kept prisoner there for three months until he regained his liberty by

surrendering Ajmere, Rinthumbore, Nagore, and Sooe Sopoor, with fifty

lacs of rupees and a hundred elephants. By this victory Hamir became

the sole Hindu prince of power in India; and the ancestors of the

present lords of Marwar and Jaipur brought their levies and paid

homage, together with the chiefs of Boondi, Abu, and Gwalior.

Then ensued for Chitor a period of splendid prosperity, during which

rose many noble buildings, amongst the ruins of which the great Tower

of Victory still soars supreme. This splendid monument[3] was raised to

commemorate the victory gained by Koombho over Mahmoud, King of Malwa,

and the Prince of Guzzerat, who in A.D. 1440 had formed a league

against Chitor. The Rana met them at the head of 100,000 troops and

1400 elephants, and overthrew them, and the commemorative tower was

begun in 1451 and finished in ten years.

[3] It is also attributed to Lakha Rana, A.D. 1373.

The State of Mewar reached the zenith of her glory in 1509, when 80,000

horse, seven rajas of the highest rank, nine raos, and 104 chiefs

bearing titles of rawul or sawut, with 500 elephants, followed Rana

Sanga of Chitor into the field.

The Mogul Baber, who captured Delhi in 1527, was yet unwilling to face

the ordeal of battle with the warlike Rajputs, but in the following

year Sanga marched against him at the head of the princes of

Rajast’han. A terrible battle ensued, which long inclined in favour of

the Rajputs, until, through the treachery of a Tuar chief, they were

defeated, and the star of Mewar began to decline, although so severe

had been the struggle that Baber dared not follow up his victory.

In 1533 Chitor suffered her second “saka” at the hands of Buhadoor or

Bajazet, Sultan of Guzzerat, who, after a grim struggle, obtained a

footing at the “Beeka” rock, and, springing a mine there, blew up 45

cubits of rampart and killed the Prince of the Haras, with five hundred

of his kin. Then the Queen-Mother, Jowahir Bae, clad in armour, headed

a sally, and was slain before the eyes of all.

The entrance to the city being forced, the heir of the Sesodias, the

infant Oodi Singh, son of Sanga, was placed in safety, while Bagh-ji,

Prince of Deola, assuming royalty, prepared to die, for Chitor could

only be retained by the Rajput princes while guarded by royalty.

The horrible Johur was decreed, and 13,000 women, headed by Kurnavati,

the mother of Oodi Singh,[4] marched to death and honour through the

“Gau Mukh,” or entrance to the subterranean tomb; while the city gates

were thrown open, and the defenders sallied forth. “Every clan lost its

chief,” and 32,000 Rajputs were slain during the siege and storm.

[4] And sister of the Rahtore queen, Jowahir Bae.

Now Kurnavati had bound Hamayoun, the son of Baber, to her cause by a

curious ceremony: she having sent him the Rakhi (bracelet), and he

having bestowed on her the Katchli (corselet), he was bound, in

consequence of this bond, to assist the lady in any time of need. Too

late to save Chitor, he retook it, and restored Bikramajit to the

throne; but the guardian goddess had turned her face from the doomed

city, and its final fall was at hand. The Emperor Akbar, having laid

almost all India at his feet, determined to bring the proud princes of

Rajputana into subjection. He attacked Chitor, but was foiled by the

masculine courage of the Rana’s concubine queen.

Again, in 1568, the Emperor Akbar attacked, and this time he found the

fated city in evil case, for Oodi Singh,[5] the Rana, for whom in

infancy his nurse had sacrificed her own child, was a degenerate son of

his race. He left Chitor to be defended by his lieutenants Jeimul and

Putta.

[5] The infant Oodi Singh being threatened with death by conspirators,

his Rajputni nurse hid him in a fruit-basket, and, covering it with

leaves, had it conveyed out of the fort, substituting her own child

just as Bimbir, the usurper, entered the room and asked for the prince.

Her pallid lips refused to utter sound, but she pointed to the cradle

and saw the swift steel plunged into the heart of her child.

In the first “saka” by Alla, twelve crowned heads defended the “crimson

banner” to the death. In the second, when conquest, at the hand of

Bahadur, came from the south, the chieftain of Deola, a noble scion of

Mewar, claimed the crown of glory and of martyrdom. But on this, the

third and greatest struggle, no royal victim appeared to appease the

Cybele of Chitor and win her to retain its battlements as her coronet.

When Jeimul fell at the Gate of the Sun, the command devolved upon

Putta of Kailwa, a lad of sixteen. His mother commanded him to don “the

saffron robe,” then, with him and his young bride, she fell full armed

upon the foe, and the heroic trio died before the eyes of the war-worn

garrison.

Once more was the Johur commanded, while 8000 Rajputs ate the last

“beera” together, and put on their saffron robes. The gates were thrown

open, “and few survived to stain the yellow mantle by inglorious

surrender.”

Thus in the blood-red cloud of battle sank for ever the Sun of Chitor;

for from this, the third and last “saka,” the ruined city never rose.

Her doom has been as the doom of Babylon, of which Isaiah declared: “It

shall never be inhabited, neither shall it be dwelt in from generation

to generation … but wild beasts of the desert shall lie there; and

their houses shall be full of doleful creatures; and owls shall dwell

there…. And the wild beasts … shall cry in their desolate houses, and …

in their pleasant palaces:… Her days shall not be prolonged.”

The top of the long ascent being reached, the last gate, the Hathi Pol,

is passed, and the wayfarer finds himself in the midst of the great

dead city, which lies in ruins for three miles along the bastioned brow

of the mountain.

Just beyond the first group of stately ruins, we came on the building

which was probably the palace built by Lakha Rana in 1373. Here we sat

and rested until the elephant, bearing the ladies and the lunch,

stalked sedately round the jutting angle of a decayed fort, and then we

wended our way along a road lined with many a half-fallen temple, until

we reached the ancient palace where, six hundred years ago, dwelt the

ill-starred Padmani, whose loveliness brought such woe upon Chitor.

Here, in a cool chamber overlooking the tank, upon the brink of which

the palace stands, we lunched; afterwards threading our way among the

fallen fragments of many a stately shrine and palace towards the high

point on which the great Jain Tower of Fame rears its deeply-sculptured

shaft into the sky.

For a thousand years the innumerable stone gods which encircle the

tower in endless profusion have watched with sightless eyes over the

city. Grey already with age were they when they saw, raised in pristine

beauty, the shattered domes and broken columns which now lie prone in

the brushwood far beneath their feet. What ghastly scenes those stony

faces have surveyed, when, swept by the scathing steel, the city has

run red with blood, and her defenders have fallen to the last man. One

crowning horror, though, they have been always spared, for no maid or

matron of Chitor ever deigned to bow her neck beneath the yoke of the

Mogul, but rather dared to face a fiery death in the bowels of the

great cavern beneath the city than yield her honour to the conqueror.

The Tower of Fame is being repaired by the present Rana, under the

superintendence of our host and a party of native workmen. Masons and

most skilful carvers in stone were busily engaged in the restoration of

parts that had fallen into dangerous decay—an extremely flimsy-looking

scaffolding, made apparently of light bamboos, tied together in wisps,

and forming a fragile-looking ramp, wound spirally up the outside of

the tower. My host seemed to consider it a perfectly safe means of

ascent, and as the workmen did not appear to slip off in any

appreciable numbers I felt constrained to go up. I should like to have

done it on all fours! The climb was well worth undertaking, as it

enabled one to inspect the astonishing and finely-carved figures which

encrust the whole exterior of the column.

From the Tower of Fame we made our way to the other great landmark of

Chitor—the Tower of Victory.

Passing and examining _en route_ many elaborately-carved temples, whose

domes rose amid the strangling masses of desert tree and shrub, we came

to the base of the red tower, whose shaft, four-square and in perfect

preservation, has, with its more venerable brother of Fame, watched for

so many centuries over the fallen fortress of Chitor.

Not far away, the rocky wall on which the city stands is shattered into

a gloomy chasm, half-hidden in rank vegetation, which, clinging with

knotted root to ledge and crevice, hangs darkly over a stagnant pool.

Here was the awful portal, “the Gau Mukh,” or “cow’s mouth,” by which,

when all was lost to Chitor save honour, her women entered the

subterranean cavern while the fuel was heaped high, and an honourable

death by suffocation awaited them.

The burning Indian day was over, and the sun blazed red in the west, as

we mounted our elephant and paced along the road towards the Hathi Pol.

Darker grew the ghostly domes and shattered battlements against a

golden sky, and the swift southern night fell, dark yet luminous, as we

turned down the hill and left the dead city, splendid in its loneliness

and isolation, asleep within its crumbling walls.

Our dinner-table was set out on the platform of the station at

Chitorgarh, and our bedrooms were close by, our host and hostess

sleeping in the “special” by which they were to return to Udaipur in

the morning, while we slept in a siding, ready to be coupled up to the

early train from Bombay.

Late into the warm and balmy night we paced the platform; for there

seemed to be always something still to say, and we found it hard to

part from our charming friends; realising, too, that this was the end

of our holiday, and that before us lay merely the toil and bustle of a

return to commonplace, everyday life. At last, though, the final

fag-end of a cheroot was thrown away, the last hand-grips given, and

the parting came.

There is little more to say.

All Thursday we rushed through the wide landscape; saw the parched

plains stretch far into the dusty horizon; saw the lean men and leaner

cattle, to whom the grim spectre of famine is already foreshadowed;

flew past populous villages and creaking water-wheels, noting every

phase of a scene now familiar, yet always delightful.

Late in the evening we changed at Baroda, and dawn next morning saw us

speeding across the swamps and inlets, which gave place ere long to the

palm groves and clustering houses which marked the farther limits of

the suburbs of Bombay.

We found the heat—damp and oppressive—very trying after the drier air

of Rajputana, and the Taj Mahal Hotel below our expectations in all

respects save price. It is undoubtedly better than most Indian hotels,

but yet it is not good!

Bombay is chiefly connected in our minds with the inevitable fuss and

worry of packing and departure.

As we left the Taj Mahal Hotel, in a conveyance piled high with

miscellaneous baggage, we saw the last of our faithful and

indispensable Sabz Ali, as he hurriedly quitted the hostelry in our

wake, fearful lest undue delay should jeopardise the possession of the

spoils he was carrying off, wrapped in bulging bundles of goodly size.

Jane and I were sorrier, I think, to part with him than he with us.

After all, we were but troublesome charges, for whose well-being he had

to answer to “General ’Oon Sahib,”—charges who had not been quite so

lavish with their incalculable riches as they should have been, and who

doled out rupees, and even annas, with a sorely grudging hand; still I

think Sabz Ali, as he made his way to the station, with many rupees

lining his inmost garments, and a flaming “chit” carefully stowed away,

felt a certain regret at parting from the “sahibs,” who had really

shown a very fine appreciation of his merit, and were sending him back

with much honour to his own country.

Late in the afternoon, as the spires and roofs of the city stood dark

against the sky, and the many steamers and native dhows showed black

upon a flood of liquid gold, the _Persia_ got under way, and we slowly

left the anchorage, steaming out into the fading light.

We stood long, leaning over the bulwarks and watching the lights of

Bombay, at first so distinct, melt gradually into a line of tiny stars

as the gulf widened that separated us from the land where we had spent

so many happy days.

I wonder if we shall ever revisit it? I trust so … and yet——

“As a rule it is better to revisit only in imagination the places which

have greatly charmed us … for it was not merely the sights that one

beheld which were the cause of joy and peace. However lovely the spot,

however gracious the sky, these things external would not have availed

but for contributory movements of mind and heart and blood—the

essentials of the man as then he was.”[6]

[6] “Henry Ryecroft”

APPENDIX I

BIG GAME LICENSE No. I,

Price Rs. 60 (sixty only).

This license will remain in force from the 15th of March 190 to the

15th November 190, and is subject to the Kashmir Stata Game Laws; it

permits the Licensee to shoot the undermentioned game in the Districts

and Nullahs open to sportsmen, and, subject to Rules 8 and 9 of these

Laws, small game between the above dates.

———————————+———————-+———————+————-+————-

| No. permitted | No. actually | Size of |District.

Name of Animal. | to be | shot. | heads. |

| shot. | | |

———————————+———————-+———————+————-+————- | |

Markhor of any variety| 2 | | |

Ibex | 4 | | |

Ovis Hodgsoni (Ammon) | 1 | | |

Ovis Vignei (Sharpu) | 4 | | |

Ovis Nahura (Burhal) | 6 | | |

Thibetan Antelope | 6 | | |

Do. Gazelle | 1 | | |

Kashmir Stag | 2 | | |

Serow | 1 | | |

Brown Bears | 2 | | |

Tehr | 6 | | |

Goral | 6 | | |

Pigs, Black Bears and | No limit. | | |

Leopards | | | |

———————————+———————-+———————+————-+————-

_Name of Licensee____________________________________________

_Address_____________________________________________________

_Signature of Licensee on returning License__________________

N.B.—This portion of the License to be returned to the Secretary,

Game Preservation Department.

————————————————————————————————————-

NAME OF SHIKARIES, &c., EMPLOYED

———+———-+————+———-+————————————————————-

|Name of| |Nature | Place of Residence. |

Serial|Shikari|Father’s| of +————-+————+—————+ REMARKS.

No. | or | Name. |employ-| Village | Tehail | District |

|Coolie.| | ment. | | | |

———+———-+————+———-+————-+————+—————+—————-

| | | | | | |

| | | | | | |

———+———-+————+———-+————-+————+—————+—————-

This License does not permit the Licensee to shoot in any of the closed

tracts or preserves mentioned in Rules 2 and 10, Kashmir State Game

Laws, nor in the Gilgit district, nor in the Astor or Kaj-nag

districts, without the special permit laid down under Rule 2.

_Dated_ ____ (Sd.) AMAR SINGH, GENERAL, RAJA, _The_ ______

_Vice-President of Council, Jammu and Kashmir State_.

I certify that a copy of Kashmir State Game Laws, 190, has been issued

herewith,

_Signature of Official granting License_ ___________________

NOTE—This License will be shown on demand and is not transferable. A

fee of Re. 1 will be charged for a duplicate copy.

APPENDIX II

From the earliest times the Kashmiris have been objects of contempt and

derision, whilst the women have been—perhaps unduly—lauded for their

looks and general excellence.

The Kashmiris themselves are of opinion that “once upon a time” they

were an honourable and valiant folk, brought gradually to their present

condition by foreign oppression.

To a certain extent this is probably true, but, according to the

_Rajatarangini Kulan_, they were noted for dishonesty and cunning long

before the evil days of conquest and adversity. Bernier speaks well of

the men, calling them witty and industrious. Doubtless the Kashmiri

character, originally none too good, was ruined during the long years

of cruelty and injustice to which he was subjected by the Tartars,

Afghans, and Sikhs, who, from the day when Akbar put him into women’s

clothes, treated him as something lower than a brute.

Forster, writing in 1783, abuses the Kashmiri, whom he stigmatises as

“endowed with unwearied patience in the pursuit of gain.” He speaks of

the vile treatment to which he was subjected by his then rulers the

Pathans, observing that Afghans usually addressed Kashmiris by striking

them with a hatchet, but, he concludes, “I even judged them worthy of

their adverse fortune.”

Elphinstone (1839) is of opinion that “the men are excessively addicted

to pleasure, and are notorious all over the East for falsehood and

cunning;” and again, “The Cashmerians are of no account as soldiers.”

“Many fowls in a yard defile it, and many Kashmiri in a country ruin

it,” says the proverb. Lawrence goes very fully into the Kashmiri

character, and dwells upon its few good points, giving him credit for

great artistic feeling, quick wit, ready repartee, and freedom from

crime against the person. He considers the last merit, though, to be

due to cowardice and the state of espionage which exists in every

village!

I was told (but perhaps by a prejudiced person) of a Kashmiri who,

during the great flood of 1903, he being safely on the shore, saw his

brother being swept down the boiling river, clinging to his rapidly

disintegrating roof. The following painful conversation ensued:—

“Whither sailest thou, oh brother, perched upon the birch bark of thine

ancestral roof?”

“Ah! brother dear. Save me quick! I drown!”

“Truly that can I; but say, what recompense wilt thou give me?”

“All I have in the world, brother—two lovely rupees.”

“Tut, tut, little one; thou takest me for a fool. Two rupees, forsooth,

for five perchance I will deign to save thy worthless life.”

“Three, then, three, carissimo—’tis all I have—and make haste, for I

feel my timbers parting, and I know not how to swim.”

“Farewell, oh, dearest brother! I could not possibly think of taking so

much trouble for three rupees, especially as, now I come to think of

it, I can borrow a singhara pole, and, in due time, will prod for thy

corpse in the Wular! Mind thou wrappest the lucre snugly in thy

cummerbund, that it be not lost—farewell, little brother!”

While the gentlemen of the Happy Valley have been lashed by the tongue

and pen of every traveller, the ladies, on the contrary, have been

rather overrated.

In all communities where the men are invertebrate the women become the

real heads of the family, doing not only most of the actual work, but

also taking the dominant position in affairs generally. This I have

observed strikingly in the case of the three “slackest” male races I

know—the Fantis of the Gold Coast, the Kashmiri, and the crofters of

the West Highlands.

Opinion is divided on the question of female loveliness in Kashmir.

Marco Polo (who probably only got his ideas of “Kesmur” from hearsay)

echoed the prevalent opinion by saying, “The women although dark are

very comely” (ch. xxvii.). Bernier is enthusiastic: “Les femmes surtout

y sont très-belles,” and hints at their popularity among the Moguls.

Moorcroft, Vigne, and others swelled the laudatory chorus until

Forster, “having been prepossessed with an opinion of their charms,

suffered a sensible disappointment,” and even was so rude as to

criticise the ladies’ legs, which he considered thick!

Lawrence saw “thousands of women in the villages, and could not

remember, save one or two exceptions, ever seeing a really beautiful

face;” but the heaviest blow was dealt them by Jacquemont, who, as a

gay Frenchman, should have been an excellent judge: “Je n’avais jamais

vu auparavant d’aussi affreuses sorcières!”

APPENDIX III

I had hoped to have given, through the kindness of Colonel Ward, a full

list of the birds of Kashmir. Up to the time of going to press,

however, the complete list has not been made out. A very large

proportion, however, has been published in the _Journal of the Bombay

Nat. Hist. Society_. I would refer those desirous of a knowledge of the

birds of Kashmir to the above Journal for 23rd April and 20th Sept.

1906, and 15th Feb. 1907. Also to Hume and Henderson’s _Lahore to

Yarkand_, and to Le Mesurier’s _Game, Shore, and Water Birds of India_,

to which I am indebted for the following:—

“In Kashmir, out of 116 genera of land birds, 34 have a wide range, 32

are characteristic of the Palar Arctic, 29 of the Indian, and 21 of the

Himalo-Chinese sub-region. Only one species is peculiar to Kashmir, a

very normal bullfinch (pyrula).”

The flora, which is most interesting, has yet (as far as I know) to be

treated independently of the neighbouring regions. Royle is scientific

but antiquated, and I know of no better list than that given by

Lawrence in his _Valley of Kashmir_.

APPENDIX IV

It may interest any one intending a trip to Kashmir to see a note of

reasonable expenses as incurred by two people during a nine-month

absence from England. Therefore I append a précis of ours.

It is to be remembered that a saving might be effected in many

particulars by any one knowing something of the country. We had to buy

our experience. Fully £10 or £12 could be saved in wages, as at first

we had a fighting tail like “Ta Phairson” of “four-and-twenty men and

five-and-thirty pipers”—and pipers have to be paid! We also hired tents

when we did not really require them. Against these outgoings, however,

it should be borne in mind that, thanks to the kindness of friends, we

paid a merely nominal rent for a “State” hut at Gulmarg. At Abbotabad,

Jaipur, and Udaipur, also, we had no hotel bills to meet.

PRÉCIS OF EXPENSES—TWO PERSONS

LONDON TO KARACHI (25 Days)

£ s. d. £ s. d.

Half-Return fares, 1st class, London to Trieste,

and thence by Austrian Lloyd (unaccelerated) 60 0 0

Hotels, sleeping-car, gratuities, wine bills, &c. 16 15 0

Baggage expenses 8 15 7

————— 85 10 7

BOMBAY TO LONDON (25 Days)

Share of fares 60 0 0

Hotel expenses and sundries, as before 10 6 8

Baggage expenses, dock dues, &c. 17 11 4

————— 87 18 0

KARACHI TO SRINAGAR (16 Days)

Rail and baggage expenses to Pindi 12 6 8

Landau and two ekkas to Srinagar, inclusive of

gratuities, tolls, &c. 10 10 8

Hotels, Dàk bungalows, &c. 13 18 9

Duty on firearms (repayable on leaving) 1 16 8

Resais, waterproof for luggage, kettles, &c. 1 19 3

Servant’s fare to Karachi, wages, &c. 2 12 8

————— 43 4 8

——————-

Carry forward 216 13 3

EXPENSES IN KASHMIR (6 Months)

£ s. d. £ s. d.

Brought forward 216 13 3

Food, wine, washing, cigars, &c. 72 7 3

Wages, inclusive of various clothes 42 9 9

Amusements, golf and tennis subscriptions, &c. 11 7 2

Hire of boats, tents and equipment 17 6 5

Transport coolies and ponies 33 14 11

Hire of hut at Gulmarg 5 6 8

Sundry furniture, cooking gear, yakdans, &c. 9 0 8

—————- 191 12 10

BARAMULA TO BOMBAY (1 Month)

Landau and four ekkas, with gratuities and tolls. 13 14 0

Dâk bungalows, hotels, &c. 18 5 8

Wages, inclusive of gratuities 6 14 0

Rail, Pindi to Bombay (viâ Udaipur) 16 17 0

Baggage 5 2 8

Hire of carriages, &c. 1 4 11

————— 61 18 3

Loss by exchange on cheques. 5 19 7

——————

Total 476 3 11

============

INDEX AND NOTES

ABBOTABAD, A frontier station garrisoned by a mobile force of Gurkhas

and Royal Artillery, whence any descent from the Black Mountain or

Chilas country can be checked. Named after Lieutenant Abbot, who

reduced the neighbourhood to order in 1845-48.

Aden, Occupying a warm corner just outside the straits of Babol-Mandeb;

was the first addition made to the British dominions in the reign of

Queen Victoria, having been taken from the Arabs in 1839.

Agates,

Agra, Rose to importance under the Moguls, becoming their seat of

government after Akbar quitted the city he had built, Fatehpur-Sighri,

until Aurungzeb removed the seat of government to Delhi.

Akbar, The third, and in many ways the greatest, of the six “Great

Mogul” Emperors of India. A warrior first, he consolidated his

conquests with the genius of an enlightened statesman.

Alsu, A small village on the north-west shore of the Wular Lake.

Amar Singh (General Raja Sir Amar Singh, K.C.S.I.), Brother of His

Highness Sir Pratab Singh, G.C.S.I., Maharaja of Jammu and Kashmir; is

Vice-President of the States Council and owner of much land in Kashmir,

the prosperity of which he has done much to promote.

Ambér, The ancient capital of Jaipur; was built in the eleventh

century, its Rajput rulers being the powerful allies of Chitor during

her struggles against the Mohammedan invasion. The Palace was built by

Raja Maun, _circa_ 1600, in the days of Akbar, whose cousin he was by

marriage ( _comp_. ). Ambér was deserted in 1728 by Jey Singh for his

new city of Jaipur.

Amethyst, This stone should be much worn in Scotland, particularly on

New Year’s Day, it having been (according to the Greek derivation of

the name) an antidote to drunkenness!

Amira Kadal, The highest of the seven bridges at Srinagar; a fine

modern structure, replacing that built by Amir Khan Jawan Sher, the

Pathan, who also built Sher Garhi.

Anda, Egg.

Anna, the sixteenth part of a rupee, value one penny.

Apharwat, One of the Pir Panjal range, which rises above Gulmarg,

height 14,500 feet.

Aru, A small village, beautifully situated about seven miles above

Pahlgam.

Asti, “Go slow.”

Astor, A district on the main route from Kashmir to Gilgit, the village

is about ninety-two miles from Bandipur. Two passes (the Rajdiangan, or

Tragbal, 11,800 feet, and the Boorzil, 13,500 feet) have to be crossed.

About ten passes are issued each season to sportsmen, markhor and ibex

being the game.

Atchibal, A village seven miles from Islamabad, where many springs

burst out from the rocks. Atchibal was a favourite pleasure-garden of

the Mogul Emperors, the remains of which still exist.

Aurungzeb, The last of the six “Great Moguls”; deposed and imprisoned

his predecessor Shah Jehan in 1658, and reigned until 1707. Bigoted and

intolerant, he shares with Sikander the odium of having destroyed many

of the ancient Hindu temples of Kashmir.

Avantipura, The modern village is near the extensive ruins named after

King Avanti Verma, which formed once the capital of Kashmir.

Bahamarishi, (_Baba-pam-Rishi=_Father Smoothbeard.) A village some

three miles below Gulmarg; the ziarat is named after a rishi, or

ascetic, of the sixteenth century.

Baloo, (Kashmiri, _Harpat_) “Rara avis in terras, nigroque similima

cignis.” _Anglicè_, a bear.

Bandipur, An important village on the north shore of the Wular Lake,

the starting-point for Gilgit, &c. Oddly enough, Bandipur is not marked

on the Ordnance Map.

Bandobast, A bargain or arrangement.

Bappa, An eighth-century Rajput hero, and ancestor of the present

chiefs of Mewar; appears to have had strong Mormon proclivities.

Baramula, The third town in Kashmir, having some 900 houses, is built

on the Jhelum at its outflow from the Kashmir Valley: it is also built

on the west focus of seismic disturbance in Kashmir, and was destroyed

by an earthquake in 1885, when 3000 Baramulans were killed. We were

unaware of these interesting facts on the morning of April 4! The

“Palms of Baramoule,” which Moore sang of, are like snakes in

Iceland—they do not exist.

Bara singh, The Kashmir stag.

Bawan,

Beera,

Bejbehara, The ancient Vijayasvara, a picturesque village and bridge

about four miles below Islamabad.

Bernier, F., a Frenchman attached to the court of Aurungzeb as medical

adviser; wrote _Voyage à Kachemire_.

Bhanyar,

Bheostie, The Indian Aquarius—the water-bearer.

Bhils,

Birch, (Kashmiri, _Burza_) The bark used in making the paper for which

Kashmir was noted, also for roofing, it being strong and impervious to

water.

Blue pine, _Pinus Excelsa_, (Kashmiri, _Yar_.)

Bombay,

Books on Kashmir:(1) Bernier, _Voyage à Kachemire_ (Utrecht, 1724); (2)

Forster’s (G) _Journey from Bengal to England_ (London, 1798); (3)

Moorcroft, _Travels in Kashmir, &c._ edited by Wilson, 1841; (4)

Jacquomont (V), _Voyage dans l’Inde_ (Paris, 1841); (5) Vigne (G. T.),

_Travels in Kashmir, &c._, 1844; (6) Hugel’s _Travels_, 1845; (7) Drew,

_Jummoo and, Ktishmir Territories_; and (8) Lawrence’s _Valley of

Kashmir_ 1895.

Budmash, A scoundrel.

Bund, An embankment or dyke to bank a river.

Burra, Big, or great.

Carnelian, “Flesh-stone”—for origin read Marryat’s _Pacha of Many

Tales_

Chakhoti,

Chandni Chowk,

Chaplies,

Chappar, Paddle with heart-shaped blade.

Chatris, The cenotaphs of the Maharanas of Mewar; they stand in a

walled enclosure between Udaipur and the railway station.

Chenar, _Plaianus Orientals_ or Oriental plane. This magnificent tree

is supposed to have been introduced into Kashmir by the Mogul Emperors.

It grows to a great size, one measured by Lawrence being sixty-three

feet five inches in circumference at five feet above the ground! There

is a very fair specimen in Kew Gardens, between the pond and the

“herbaceous border.”

Chilas,

Chit, A note or letter, and also a character or recommendation, Every

man collects something, from pictures to tram tickets—the native

collects “chits.” Like other collectors he will beg, borrow, or steal

to improve his store, and life is made a burden by the perpetual

writing and reading of these mendacious documents.

Chitor,

Chittagul Nullah, The next nullah to the south-west of the Wangat. The

village of Wangat is wrongly placed in it, according to the Ordnance

Map.

Chondawats, A Rajput clan.

Chota, Little, _Chota Hazri = petit dejeúner_ or early breakfast.

Chowkidar, A functionary whose principal duty seems to be to snore in

the verandah at night and scare other robbers away.

Chupatty, A flabby sort of scone.

Chuprassie,

Cockburn’s Agency, The nearest approach to “Whiteley’s” in Kashmir.

Dâk, Post. _Dâk Bungalow_ = posting station.

Dal Lake, _Dal_ means lake (in a plain), while _nag_ is a mountain

tarn.

Dandy, A sort of enclosed chair with four projecting arms, wherein

pretty ladies are carried when it doesn’t suit them to walk.

Degchies, Cooking utensils—best made of aluminium, owing to the unclean

ways of native scullions.

Dekho, See, look! Delhi, The capital of the Mogul Emperors, dating from

1638, when Shah Jehan commenced to build the great fort. The ancient

city lies some miles to the south. Delhi was taken by General Lake in

1803.

Deodar, (Kashmiri, _Diár.) Cedrus Lebani_, var. _Deodara_. The most

valuable tree in Kashmir, where it was formerly abundant. It is now

chiefly found in the north-west districts, and it is carefully

cherished by the “Jungly Sahib” and his myrmidons.

Dobie, The thing that ruins all your shirts and causes you to shatter

the Third Commandment.

Domel, Village with Dâk Bungalow, at the confluence of the Jhelum and

the Kishenganga.

Doolie,

Doras,

Dounga, “The boats of Kashmir are very long and narrow, and are rowed

with paddles from the stern, which is a little elevated, to the centre;

a tilt of mats is extended for the shelter of passengers or

merchandize” (Forster); the mats are made of “pits” (reed mace), a

swamp plant.

Drogmulla,

Dubgam, A village at junction of the Pohru with the Jhelum, about seven

miles above Baramula.

EARTHQUAKE, An upsetting event of too frequent occurrence in Kashmir.

Particularly severe visitations occurred in 1827 and 1885 (_see_

Baramula).

Echo Lake, A small tarn on the top of Apharwat.

Ek, One. (_Ek dam_=immediately.)

Ekka,

Embroidery,

Erin Nullah,

Eshmakam, =_Eysh Makám_(“the delightful halting-place”) Above the

village stands the shrine of Zyn-u-din, one of the four disciples of

the Kashmir patron saint, Shah Nur-u-din.

FATERPUR-SIGHRI,

Ferozepore Nullah,

Floating Gardens,

GANESBAL, The boulder, red-stained and extremely sacred, which lies in

the middle of the Lidar; bears some fancied likeness to Ganésh (the

elephant-headed god).

Gangabal, A sacred lake, lying under the north glaciers of Haramok at

the elevation of 12,000 feet. It is said to be a source of the

Ganges(!) and is an object of pilgrimage.

Ghari,

Ghari Habibullah,

Ghari Wallah, The Jehu of these parts.

Ghât,

Gold mohur,

Golf,

Gram,

Grass shoes,

Gujar, Is not a Kashmiri, being a member of the semi-nomad tribes which

graze buffaloes and goats upon the hills. He speaks Parímu or Hindki.

Gulmarg, (The Rose Marg.) The most frequented resort of the English in

Kashmir during July and August; stands some 8500 feet above the sea,

wherefore some people find the air too rarefied. Gulmarg was first

mentioned by Yusaf Khan in 1580.

Gunderbal, A village placed where the Sind River debouches into the

plain. The starting-point for Leh and Thibet.

Gupkar, Town of Gopaditya(?). A wine-manufacturing suburb of Srinagar,

overlooking the Dal.

Gurais, A large village on the Bandipur-Gilgit route, lying on the

right bank of the Kishenganga, about forty-two miles from Bandipur.

HARAMOK, The predominating mountain (16,903 feet) of the valley, from

almost every part of which his square-headed bulk is visible; hence the

name, which means “all faces” or “all mouths.” A legend holds that a

vein of emerald lies near the summit, and that within view of this gem

no snake can live

Harbagwan,

Hari Parbat, (“The Green Hill”) So named on account of the gardens and

vineyards which clothed its sides. Became the residence of Akbar, who

built the wall round foot of hill in 1597. The fort on top was the work

of the Pathan, Atta Mohamad Khan.

Haripur,

Harwan,

Hasrat Bal Mosque, (The Prophet’s Hair.) Various fairs and festivals

are held here, the principal one being held upon the day that the

Prophet rode up to Heaven on his mule Al Barak (the Thunderer). This

mule, by-the-bye, is one of the five favoured beasts which the

Mohammedans believe destined to immortality; the others are (1)

Abraham’s Ram, (2) Balaam’s Ass, (3) the one upon which Christ rode on

Palm Sunday, and (4) the dog which guarded the seven sleepers.

Hassanabad Mosque, Built by Nur Jehan Begum (Nourmahal), and destroyed

by the Sikhs.

Hassan Abdal, (_Abdal=_fanatic).

Hoopoe, Un-natural history of.

INSECTS, Of benign insects such as butterflies there are singularly

few. Both mosquitoes and flies are very troublesome during the hot

weather in the valley. Visits to native huts will probably lead to an

introduction to other insects. In India ants become a nuisance: I met

with a foraging party of extremely large and well-nourished ones as I

entered my bath place one morning. I recognised them for the

descendants—decadent somewhat—of the famous fellows who played Alberich

to the Gold of Hindostan and regarding which Herodotus (commonly known

as the Father of History, or of Lies, I forget which) asserted that

they were of the bigness of foxes and ran with incredible swiftness. He

evidently got this yarn from Pliny—

“Indicae Formicae. Aurum ex cavernus egerunt terrae Ipsis autem color

Fehum magnitudo Aegypti Luporum” (Lib. xi. ch. 31)—

and passed it on to Sir J. Maundevil, who swallowed it greedily.

“Theise pissmyres ben grete as houndes; so that no man dar come to the

hilles, for the pissmyres wolde assaylen hem and devouren hem” (ch.

xxx) For the wily method of catching the ants napping, together with

other _contes drolatiques_, read Maundevil’s _Travels_.

Iris, (Kashmiri, _Krishm_) Succeeds the tulip and precedes the rose as

typical of Kashmirian Flora, is used as fodder, and the fibre makes

ropes, which are, however, not durable.

Islamabad, (Or Anant Nag, the “Place of Countless Springs.”) Is the

second city in Kashmir, having about 9000 inhabitants; stands at the

head of the navigable Jhelum, fifty miles by water and thirty-two by

land above Srinagar.

Jade,

Jagganath,

Jain, A small sect founded by Mahavera, a contemporary of Gautama. The

Jains were great temple-builders.

Jehangir,

Jeimal, With Putta, one of the national heroes of the Rajputs. They

fell, while mere boys, in the heroic defence of Chitor against Akbar.

Jey Singh, (Sowar Jey Singh.) Succeeded to the throne of Ambér in 1699,

founded Jaipur in 1728. He wrote the following, which I had not read

when I visited his observatory at Jaipur “Let us devote ourselves at

the altar of the King of Kings, hallowed be his name! In the book of

the register of whose power the lofty orbs of Heaven are but a few

leaves, and the stars, and that heavenly courser the sun, small pieces

of money in the treasury of the Most High.”

Jheel, A small lake, or pond.

Jhelum, (Kashmiri, _Veth_, Hindu, _Vetasta_, the ancient _Hydaspes_.)

Rises at Vernag, becomes navigable at Kanbal, and is so for 120 miles,

when it forms rapids below Baramula. Average breadth at Srinagar in

December 210 feet, average depth 9 feet.

Johur,

Kaj-nag,

Kali, (“The Terrible.”) Wife of Shiva or Mahadeva.

Kanbal,

Karachi,

Karewas, “Where the mountains cease to be steep, fan-like projections,

with flat, arid tops, and bare of trees, run out towards the valley”

(Lawrence)

Kashmir=Kashuf-mir (the country of Kashuf). Was ruled by Tartar princes

from about 150-100 B.C. for several centuries; conquered after a year’s

struggle by Mahmoud of Guznee (1014-1015 A.D.). Invaded by Baber and

Humayun, and finally conquered by latter in 1543, and formally annexed

by Akbar in 1588. After the fall of Delhi (Nadir Shah) in 1739, Kashmir

fell into the hands of Amirs of Cabul in 1753. It was captured by the

Sikhs under Ranjit Singh in 1819, and, after the defeat of the Sikhs at

the hands of the British, was handed over to Gulab Singh of Jammu for

twenty-five lacs of rupees “Kailasa is the best place in the three

worlds, Himalaya the best part of Kailasa, and Kashmir the best place

in Himalaya” _(Rajatarangini Kulan_).

Kastoora, Merula Boulboul (the grey-winged ousel). Jane bought

“Freddie” one day in Srinagar, and he has been our friend and companion

ever since—being at this present (August 1907) in rude health.

Khansamah, A Cook.

Khubbar, News—usually untrustworthy.

Khud, A steep slope or precipice.

Khudstick, An alpenstock made of tough wood, usually of Cotoneaster

baccillaris (lun); should be well tested before purchase, as life may

depend on its strength.

Killanmarg, A wide sloping marg above Gulmarg, just above the pine

forest on the slopes of Apharwat.

Kilta, Creel made of the pliant withes of the Wych Hazel, _Parrotia_

_Jacquemontiana_ (Chob-i-poh).

Kishenganga, A large affluent of the Jhelum which drains the Tilail

Valley, passes Gurais, and joins the Jhelum below Muzafferabad.

Kitardaji, Forest house in the Machipura.

Kitmaghar, Bearer.

Kobala,

Kohinar,

Kolahoi, or Gwash Brari, 17,800 ft. The loftiest peak in Kashmir

proper. It has not yet been ascended.

Koolan,

Kralpura,

Kulan, A peak of the Pir Panjal, at the head of the Ferozepore Nullah.

Kulgam, or Kuligam.

Kunis,

Kurnavati,

Kutab Minar,

Lacquer,

Lahore, Capital of the Punjab. An ancient and interesting city, which

(like Agra and Delhi) only attained its zenith of prosperity in the

days of Akbar.

Lakri, A stick (at Gulmarg also a golf-club).

Lalpura, A charming village in the Lolab.

Larch,

Lidar, Liddar, or Lambodri, Drains the Kolahoi district, and forms the

first substantial affluent of the Jhelum, which it joins below

Islamabad.

Lidarwat, A small Grujar village fifteen miles above Pahlgam, on the

left bank of the river, about 10,000 ft. above sea-level.

Logue or Log, Folk.

Lumbadhar, The headman of a village.

Machipura, “The Place of Fish”—why, I cannot imagine! The district

lying along the east foothills of the Kaj-nag.

Mahadeo, (Mahadeva or Shiva) A sacred mountain and object of

pilgrimage, north of Srinagar, 13,500 feet high.

Maharaja of Jammu and Kashmir, H.H. Sir Pratab Singh, G.C.S.I.,

succeeded his father Ranbir Singh (who was third son of Gulah Singh) in

1885. The family is of the Rajput Dogras. “His kindness to all classes

has won him the affection of his people” (Lawrence).

Maharana, H.H. the Maharana Dhiraj Sir Fateh Singh, G.C.S.I., of

Udaipur, is head of the Rajput princes in point of blood, being

descended from the Suryabansi, or Children of the Sun.

Mahseer,

Malingam,

Manji or Hanji, A Kashmiri water-thief or boatman.

Manserah,

Mar (snake) Canal. A dirty but most picturesque waterway between the

Dal and the Anchar Lakes.

Marg,(Margh?) Persian for a garden abounding in plants.

Margam,

Martand, The principal temple in Kashmir—stands on a high karewa some

few miles from Islamabad.

Metal-work,

Mewar,

Mogul, The Moguls were a warlike people of Central Asia, who, under

Timur (Tamerlane) their chief, sacked Delhi in 1398. At the great

battle of Panipat, in 1524, Baber the Mogul (direct descendant of

Timur) defeated the Sultans of Delhi. He was the first of the six

“Great” Moguls (the others being Humayun, Akbar, Jehangir, Shah Jehan,

and Aurungzeb), who ruled India with unparalleled magnificence for 150

years.

Mulberry, (_Morus sp_. Kashmiri _Tul_) A very precious tree in Kashmir,

on account of the silk industry. It grows to a great size, attaining a

girth of 25 feet.

Murghi, A fowl.

Murree, A hill station and sanatorium, 37 miles from Rawal Pindi, on a

hill 7500 feet above the sea. Its importance dates from 1850. Forster

speaks of it as a small village in 1786.

Musafferabad, (“The Place of Victory”) Built by Masufer Khan, Rajah of

Chikri.

Mussick, Water-skin.

NAG, A mountain lake or tarn.

Nagas, Human-bodied, snake-tailed gods.

Nagmarg,

Nanga Parbat, A great mountain in the Chilas country, 26,620 feet high

(the fourth in point of height in the world), Mommery and two guides

were destroyed in 1895, probably by an avalanche, while attempting the

ascent.

Nassim Bagh, (“The Garden of Delicious Breezes”) A favourite spot in

the days of the Mogul Emperors. Akbar planted 1200 chenars.

Neem tree.

Neve, Dr. A. He and his brother are surgeons to the Kashmir Medical

Mission, where for many years they have carried on the somewhat

thankless task of benefiting the natives.

Nishat Bagh, (“The Garden of Drink”)

Nopura, A village on the Pohru.

Nourmahal, (“Light of the Palace”), or, more properly, Nur Jehan Begum

(“Light of the World”), was the wife of Jehaugir, celebrated in

Mooree’s _Lalla Rookh_. Her life story was very curious. See Forster’s

_Journey from Bengal to England_, London, 1798.

Nullah, A valley or ravine.

Numdah,

ONTALA,

Oodi Singh,

PADMANI, “The Lotus-lovely Lady.”

Pagdandy, A short cut.

Pahlgam, “The Shepherd’s Village,” A Kashmiri summer resort for those

who like quiet. It is 27 miles from Islamabad up the Lidar Valley, and

is somewhat over 7000 feet above the sea.

Pampur, (Padma-pur, city of Vishnu, or Padmun-pur, “the place of

beauty”), principally noted now for its Pampur roti or bread, a

speciality of the place.

Pandrettan, or Pandrenthan, =Puranadhisthana, “the old capital.” Was

built in the time of Partha by his Prime Minister, Meru.

Parana Chauni,

Patan. “The City” or “Ferry,” the ancient Sankarapura, Sankaravarma

having built two temples there at the end of the eighth century.

Peechy, Afterwards, later, by-and-bye

Peri Mahal, “The Abode of the Fairies.” Built on the hill above Gupkar

by Prince Dara Shikoh, probably for astronomical purposes

Piasse, The onion.

Pice, See Rupee.

Pichola Lake,

Pir Panjab, Pir=Dogri for peak Pantzal, Kashmiri for ditto Pir also

meant a saint, particularly one who lived in the pass in the days of

Shah Jehan and Aurungzeb and who was interviewed by Bernier. The Pir

Panjal was the route followed by the Moguls when coming to Kashmir,

and, rough as it is, they sent elephants along it. The highest peak of

the Pir Panjal is Tatakuti, 15,500 feet.

Pohru,

Poonch, A native state lying south-west of Kashmir, to which it is

tributary. The Raja Buldeo Singh is cousin to the Maharajah of Kashmir.

Poplar. There are two varieties of Poplar in Kashmir, the Italian or

Black Poplar, and the White, the latter attains a great size, one near

Gurais measuring 127 feet in height and 14-1/2 feet in girth.

Porcelain,

Port Saïd,

Puttoo, Native cloth.

RAINAWARI,

Rajput, The brave and chivalrous inhabitants of Rajputana. Bernier,

probably influenced by Mogul opinion, attributes much of their valour

to opium, as the following curious extract shows “Ils sont grands

preneurs d’opium, et je me suis quelque fois etonné de la quantité que

je leur en voiois prendre; aussi ils s’y accoutûmerent dès la jeunesse;

le jour d’une bataille ils ne s’oublient pas de doubler la dose; cette

drogue les anime ou plutot les enyvre, et les rend insensibles an

danger, de sorte quils se jettant dans le combat comma des bêtes

furieuses, ne sachant ce que c’est de fuir … c’est un plaisir de les

voir ainsi avec leur fumée d’opium dans la tête s’entre embrasser quand

on est prêt de combattre et se dire adieu les uns aux autres, comme

gens qui sont resolus de mourir.”—Vol. i. p. 54.

Ramble-tamble egg, Scrambled eggs.

Ram chikor, The great snow partridge (_Tetragallus Himalayensis_).

Rampur. A small village in the Jhelum Valley, and a village on the way

into the Lolab _viâ_ Kunis.

Rawal Pindi,

Rassad, “Field Allowance” or extra rations given to coolies when doing

any mountain work or away from supplies.

Resai,

Roorkhee chair, An extremely comfortable and portable chair made by the

R.E. at Roorkhee.

Rope bridge,

Rupee=one fifteenth of a sovereign, or 1s. and 4d. 12 pice (or pies)= 4

paisa = 1 anna = 1 penny 16 annas = 1 rupee.

SAAF kuro, “Make clean.”

Saktawats, A Rapjut clan.

Sari, A woman’s garment, usually brilliant in colour, blood-red and

dark blue being favoured.

Sekwas,

Sellar,

Serow, _Nemorhaidus bubalerius_.

Sesodia, The ruling family of Udaipur, formerly known as Gehlote.

Shadipur, “The Place of Marriage”—probably with reference to the

junction of the Sind and Jhelum rivers.

Shah Jehan, The greatest builder of the Mogul Emperors. Ruled from 1627

to 1658, when he was deposed and imprisoned by Aurungzeb.

Shalimar,

Shalimar Bagh,

Shambrywa, One of the peaks of the Kaj-nag.

Shiah, A Mohammedan sect, usually much at variance with those of Sunni

persuasion.

Shikara, A light sort of canoe.

Shikari, A necessary joint in the “fighting tail” of the sportive

visitor to Kashmir. Usually a fraud, but, if not too proud, makes quite

a good golf caddy.

Shisha Nag, “The Glassy or Leaden Lake.”

Silver fir, _Abies Webbiana_ (Kashmiri, _Sungal_). Grows to a great

height, being known 110 feet high and 16 feet in girth.

Sind Desert,

Sind Valley,

Singhara, Meaning “horned nut,” the water chestnut _(Trapa bispinosa_).

An article of diet much prized by the Kashmiri.

Sogul,

Sonamarg, “The Golden Marg.” A summer station high up the Sind Valley

on the route to Leh and Ladak.

Sopor, =Sonapur, or the Golden City. A somewhat unclean little town of

some 600 houses on the Jhelum, about eight miles by road and twelve by

water above Baramula.

Spill Canal, Cut in 1904, after the Great Flood of 1903, to carry some

of the river clear of Srinagar and ease the pressure on the bund.

Spruce, _Picca, Morunda_. (Kashmiri, _Kachal_.)

Srinagar, _Surga Nagur_, City of the Sun. Has a population of 120,000.

Became capital in 960 A.D., when the ancient city of Pandrettan was

burnt in the reign of Abimanyu. The city was called Kashmir until

recently, Martand being called Sringar by Jacquemont.

Sultanpur,

Sumbal, Said to be the site of the ancient city Jayapura.

Sunt-i-kul = “Apple-tree Canal.”

TAJ MAHAL, The magnificent tomb of Mumtez Mahal, favourite wife of Shah

Jehan.

Takht-i-Suleiman, A steep isolated hill rising nearly 1000 feet above

Srinagar, crowned by a temple which is built on the ruins of a very

ancient edifice. The Takht or Throne of Solomon is, according to the

legend, the place which Solomon occupied during his mythical visit to

Kashmir.

Tangmarg, “The Open Marg”. Is the village about 1500 foot below

Gulmarg, which is the nearest point to Gulmarg attainable by wheeled

conveyance.

Tattoo, A pony.

Tehsildhar, The functionary who has jurisdiction over a tehsil.

Temples, For full description read Lawrence _(Valley of Kashmir_, chap.

vi.) Their ruined state is partly due to earthquakes, but probably

still more to the iconoclastic activity of Sikandar (_d._ 1416) and

Aurungzeb.

Tilail,

Tonga,

Topaz, Name derived from the Greek “to conjecture”—because no one knew

whence they came!

Tower of Fame,

Tower of Victory,

Tragbal,

Tragam, A large village south-west of the Lolab, whence a route leads

to Musafferabad.

Tret, A station at the foot of the Murree hills on the road to Rawal

Pindi.

Trieste,

Tronkol,

Turquoise,

UDAIPUR, The capital of the ancient and powerful Rajput State of Mewar,

founded by Oodi Singh after the fall of Chitor. Uri,

VERNABOUG,

Vernag,

WALNUT, A valuable tree in Kashmir, where its fruit and timber are both

greatly esteemed; grows to a very large size, one in the Lolab having a

girth of 18 feet 10 inches.

Wangat,

Wardwan, The mountainous district on the east of Kashmir.

Water buffalo, An ungainly and “sneevish” beast beloved of Gujars and

nobody else.

Weights 2 lbs. (English)=1 seer. 40 seers = 1 maund.

Wood carving,

Wular, Means “cave”. The largest lake in India, being 12-1/2 x 5 miles

in average extent. In floods it covers much extra space.

Wych hazel, _See_ Kilta.

YAKDAN,

ZIARAT, A Mohammedan shrine. Zoji La, The pass at the head of the Sind

Valley which is crossed on going to Leh, height 11,300 feet.