The Temples of Ellora, the Holy Place of the Deccan.--Nashik, the
Land of the Râmâyanâ.--Sights and Scenes on the Banks of the
Godaveri.--Damaun, the most famous of the Indo-Portuguese Towns.
We bade adieu to the old historical city of the great Aurungzebe just as
the first streak of sunlight was gilding the conical summit of the
fortress of Dowlutabâd, and, wending our way laboriously up the steep
Pipla Ghaut, we emerged on the other side on a fertile plain planted
with magnificent trees and covered with innumerable mausoleums and
tombs, through which our bullocks made straight for the western boundary
of the beautiful hill of Rauzah. Here we reached a spot of perfect
tranquillity and beauty, but which must have been at some ancient time a
scene of intense activity. The present little village of Ellora,
consisting of a number of Hindoo dwellings, is almost hidden among
groves of fine trees, and is only remarkable because it lies immediately
at the foot of a high wall of rock in which the vast cavern-temples of
this neighborhood are found and to which it owes its prosperity.
We alighted from our wagons on the verandah of a well-built pagoda; near
it was a fine reservoir with flights of broad stone steps leading down
to the water's edge. On the bank or upper stonework of this reservoir
are a number of artistic little Hindoo temples or shrines, the roofs
supported by light delicate pillars, giving an airy and graceful
appearance to the whole village. As soon as Govind had gone through his
prayers and ablutions we started off, accompanied by a couple of
sage-looking Hindoo guides, for the cavern-temples. We followed our
guides for some little distance, when they left the highroad and struck
a narrow, steep path, and all at once, when we were least expecting it,
a sudden turn brought us into the presence of the great "rock-cut
temples" that render this spot the holiest of all places in the Deccan.
Down went Govind and our guides prostrate on their faces and hands.
[Illustration: ROCK-CUT TEMPLES OF ELLORA.]
The solitude, the quiet stillness of the spot, with the bright morning
sun flooding hill and plain and penetrating the depths of these
excavations, were impressive. The temple before us was a large open
court and deep vaulted chamber, massive and elaborately carved, and
chiselled from the heart of the mountain itself, and rising up nearly a
hundred feet. There were many other temples in the hillside, with
doorways, arches, pillars, windows, galleries, and verandahs, supported
by solid stone pillars filled with figures of gods and goddesses,
heroes, giants, birds, beasts, and reptiles of every shape--quite enough
to baffle the most careful student in anything like a thorough
examination of their vast and intricate workmanship.
We went in and out, climbing stone-cut steps up, down, and round about
the caves, not knowing which temple to admire most or on which to bestow
undivided attention. It would take weeks to explore them thoroughly.
There is a very fine cavern-temple dedicated to Pur Sawanath, "the Lord
of Purity," the twenty-third of the great saints of the Jains of this
era.[77] An image resembling those that are seen of Buddha, stone
tigers, and elephants bear up the altar on which he is seated; from the
middle of the altar there projects a curious wheel on which is carved
the Hindoo astronomical table, and a seven-headed serpent is seen over
the head of the god.
Another very beautiful excavation, consisting of three temples or
compartments, is dedicated to Jaggar-Nath Buddh, or "the Enlightened
Lord of the Universe;" these temples are best known, however, by the
name of Indra Sabha, or "the assembly of Indra." These caves are
two-storied, containing images of Indra--"the darter of the swift blue
bolt," as he is called--seated on a royal elephant, with his attendants
about him, and of Indranee, his wife, riding on a couchant lion, with
her son in her arms and her maids around her. The sacred trees of the
Hindoos--_Kalpa Vriksha_, the tree of the ages or of life--are growing
out of their heads; on the one overshadowing Indra are carved peacocks,
emblematic of royalty, and fruits resembling the rose-apple, sacred to
love, grow on the one sprouting from the head of Indranee. This temple
is unrivalled for its beauty of form and sculpture.
The next temple we visited was the Dho Máhal Lenah, "the double palace."
It is full of figures and sculptured story celebrating the marriage of
the god Siva with Parvatee. It is an excavation of great depth and
extent, filled with countless gods and goddesses, among which the figure
of Yama, the judge of the dead, commonly called Dhannah, is especially
remarkable. Not far from this cavern-temple a lovely mountain-torrent
comes leaping down in beautiful cascades. Near a wide pool is a rude
cave with a deity in it called Dàvee, who draws multitudes of pilgrims
to her shrine yearly because of her reputation for performing miracles.
There is also a temple famous in Indian song and story called
Khailahsah, or "highest heaven." The mountain has been penetrated to a
great depth and height to make room for this wondrous bit of sculpture.
Within an area stands a pagoda almost, if not quite, a hundred feet
high. It is entered by a noble portico guarded by huge stone figures of
men; towering above it are, cut out of the hill, a music-gallery of the
finest workmanship and five large chapels, and above all there is in
front a spacious court terminating in three magnificent colonnades: huge
columns uphold the music-gallery; stone elephants, looking toward us,
heave themselves out of this mass of rock-work, and right in front is a
grand figure of the Hindoo goddess Lakshimi being crowned queen of
heaven by stone elephants, that have raised themselves on their hind
feet to pour water over her head from stone vessels grasped in their
trunks.
Everywhere we found fresh objects of wonder, and each new cave seemed
the greatest marvel of all. The entire hillside is perforated with
chatiyas, monasteries, pagodas, towers, spires, obelisks, galleries,
and verandahs, all cut out of the solid rock.[78] Nothing could be
wilder and more fantastic than the effect produced by these excavations,
situated as they are amid natural scenes very wild and
romantic--waterfalls, ravines, gorges, old gnarled forest trees, and a
dense undergrowth of brushwood.
Naturally, freely, unexpectedly, as the tree grows, was the development
of early Hindoo art. Everywhere one sees an unrestrained imagination
breaking through and overleaping the bounds of judgment, reason, and
even that intuitive sense of refinement to which the Hindoo mind is by
no means a stranger.
Our journey next was quite an adventurous one. We started straight
across the high plain of the Deccan for the Thull Ghauts. In some parts
the country is sandy and desolate, and in others well cultivated, but in
no way remarkable till we reached the rugged but grandly mountainous
country through which our road lay, circuitous and difficult, but wild
and beautiful, as far as Nashik, or "the City of the Nose," sacred to
the Hindoos for various local traditions, but above all as being the
spot whence the Godaveri takes its rise. The real source of this famous
river, however, is some eighteen or twenty miles distant, at Thrimbâk.
On our road lay a deep and dangerous nullah or creek, which we forded
with much difficulty, assisted by a number of natives whom we were
obliged to hire from a little village lying half a mile from its banks.
Passing this, we saw the Ghauts for the first time, with their fine
forests, and here and there a mountain-stream, not yet dried up by the
hot summer sun, tumbling down the mountain-sides or flowing over pebbly
beds, sometimes gleaming into the sunlight and sometimes hidden in
verdure, and anon lying in deep eddying pools at the foot of the Ghauts,
that rise up grand and defiant on every side.
With their forests of foliage and rich jungles the Thull Ghauts are a
perpetual wonder and mystery to the natives, and the spot on which the
handsome city of Nashik stands is a paradise to the Brahmans. Through it
the Godaveri, sometimes called the Gunga, flows, spreading gladness and
plenty everywhere. Here it was that Rama, with his beautiful wife Sita,
spent the first days of their exile near a dark and dreadful forest, out
of which issued the beautiful deer in pursuit of which he was obliged to
leave Sita, who became an easy prey to his enemy Rawana. Here Lakshman,
the brother of Rama, cut off the nose of the giantess Sarp Naki, the
snake-nosed sister of Rawana, from which event the city itself is named.
There is doubtless an historical basis to all these local traditions,
for Nashik is a place of great antiquity, and is mentioned by Ptolemy by
the name which it bears to-day. This land was no doubt at one time
debatable ground between the advancing Aryan tribes and the aboriginal
settlers. Here the Buddhists took refuge from the persecutions of the
orthodox Brahmans, excavating the temples and caves that abound in this
region.
Nashik is now a Brahman city in the fullest sense of the word. Brahmanic
power, influence, culture, and tradition are felt everywhere. Govind,
our pundit, was in his best humor. It seems he had long desired to make
a pilgrimage to this sacred spot, and here he was without any actual
expense to himself and at the right moment. Nashik is said to have a
population of from twenty-five to thirty thousand inhabitants, chiefly
Brahmans of great wealth and famed for their religious sanctity of
character.
At the jatras, or tribe-meetings, a great concourse of Brahmans,
Hindoos, Rajpoots, and Mahrattas from all parts of India pour into this
city, and our visit happened at this time, for the pilgrims were
arriving from all parts of the Eastern world. Most of the streets are,
like those usually found in Oriental cities, narrow, ill-drained, and
badly paved, but there are some that are well kept, and a fine broad
thoroughfare leads almost, but not quite, through the centre of the city
to the banks of the Godaveri. The lofty houses of the Brahmans, many of
which are three stories high and almost palatial in appearance, were
thrown open to the strangers. Pilgrims thronged the streets and were
encamped along the roadside in tents in the open air or under the shade
of huge trees. Highways lead everywhere down to the river, whose
sanctity may be conceived from the vast numbers and characteristics of
the temples that line its banks and dot the islands and rocks in the
river-bed, nearly all built of a hard black rock capable of high polish,
and some in the purest style of Hindoo architecture.
As we were detained here a couple of days, being obliged to purchase a
fresh pair of trotting bullocks in order to prosecute the rest of our
journey, we determined to stay over and see the celebration of the
_Holi_, one of the most curious festivals among the Hindoos. We took up
our abode in the travellers' bungalow, some little distance from the
native city, and looking out upon the English burying-ground. It is a
charming spot, with a wild tangle of trees forming a sort of garden
around it.
The native town of Nashik seems to be divided into three parts, the
handsome and well-built portion being occupied by the wealthy Brahmans,
_vakeels_, or lawyers, and _gurus_, or priests. The second division,
which bears marks of great age and is not very sightly, is inhabited by
merchants and traders in grain and other articles of Indian commerce.
The bazaars are remarkably well stocked with shawls brought from
Cashmere, silks and kinkaubs from Aurungabâd, _gowrakoo_, a native
manufacture of tobacco and used for smoking, and _jaggery_, a dark-brown
sugar from Bombay. In the jewellers' shops we saw some very pretty
specimens of gold and silver ornaments, such as are worn by Hindoo
women. The vegetable and fruit markets here are very fine. Among the
fruits large trays of beautiful flowers were disposed, of which the rose
of Nashik seemed to me the finest I had seen in India. Sheep, goats, and
cows wander about the streets of the bazaar unmolested. Indeed, I saw
cows putting their heads into the open grain-bags exposed on the
shop-windows of the _bunyas_ or grain-dealers, and have a good feed, for
there was no one to hinder them.
One day, as we were wandering about the streets of Nashik, we strayed
into an open court, and thence through an arched entrance, into a large
hall, where we suddenly came upon a company of men weaving a peculiar
and beautiful Oriental silk. The loom was of the old-fashioned Indian
type, set into the ground; the upper thread was of a pale-gold color,
and the lower of the most exquisite blue, and the fabric after it was
woven had a little knot of yellow left on the surface, which gave it the
appearance in one light of being woven of gold threads, and in another
light of pale blue. A number of women were seated close by preparing the
silk thread for the weavers by means of a very rude spinning-wheel.
From the bazaars we set off to visit some of the most artistic temples
that embellish the banks of the Godaveri. There are five structures here
to-day in great repute: the temples of Maha Dèo, or the high god, Siva,
Parvati, Indra, and _Jaggar Nath_, commonly called Juggernaut. Each of
these temples has a large number of laymen, priests, and priestesses, or
dancing-girls, attached to them. The dancing-girls were seen everywhere
in the temples, on the banks of the river, and in the booths erected
here and there, performing their various dances for the amusement of the
pilgrims, and some of these girls were of the finest type that I have
seen in any part of India.
We went into the temple of Maha Dèo, which contains some very rich and
bold carvings. A figure of a god was seated on a stone altar, and all
over the shrine were scattered flowers, oil, and red paint, or
"shaindoor." At the door of this temple we saw seated a very old woman,
who, they told me, was once a famous beauty and a priestess of this
temple. She sat there muttering idly to herself and basking in the
sunlight. Age had very forcibly set its seal upon her. Her skin was
drawn into the most complicated network of wrinkles, her arms were
almost devoid of flesh, and her limbs were as feeble and tottering as
those of an infant just attempting to walk; but her eyes, large, dark,
and piercing, still retained a great deal of their original beauty. The
people, however, regarded her as one inspired, and the women attached to
the temple had a tender care for her, taking her into an adjoining
chamber every night to sleep, bringing her out to her accustomed place
every morning, and feeding her at regular intervals.
On the banks of the Godaveri is shown a spot where women without number
have become suttees, or, as they called them here, Sadhwees, or "pure
ones." At a very gentle curve of the river are the cremation-grounds of
the Hindoos, and here the ashes of men burned at a distance are brought
and scattered in the holy stream, which is thought to have its source in
the heart of the great Maha Dèo himself.
Next morning, when we issued into the streets of Nashik once more, the
scene that presented itself to our astonished gaze was that of a vast
multitude gone mad. Crowds of women dressed in fantastic attire,
especially in white- and yellow-spotted muslin sarees, men in curious
garbs, boys dressed like sprites or wholly nude and besmeared with
yellow paint, fakeers, gossains, ascetics, Hindoos, and Brahmans, were
seen in the streets shouting, laughing, throwing red paint about; rude
jests were being passed; women were addressed in obscene or ribald
language; persons blindfolded in the streets were left to grope their
way until they removed the bandage from their eyes, friends sent on
bootless errands, etc. In fact, it was a complete saturnalia of the
rudest and most grotesque description. It was the festival of the
_Holi_,[79] held in honor of Krishna's sportive character on the night
of the full moon in the month of February.
That evening we went out on the banks of the Godaveri to see the
termination of the festival, and it is simply impossible to describe the
wild enthusiasm of this vast concourse of people. The banks of the
river, the steps of the numberless temples, the courts within courts,
the shrines, the altars, the great halls and music-galleries with
forests of carved pillars, were closely packed with countless throngs of
white-robed priests, half-naked gossains, or sparkling dancing-girls,
while thousands of men, women, and children lined the banks of the
Godaveri, eager and enthusiastic participants in the gay, bewildering
scene. As we stood gazing at the strange spectacle we heard the wild,
discordant sounds of various musical instruments, the shrill blast of
innumerable conch-shells, and the deafening beat of the tom-toms,
whereupon huge fires began to blaze almost simultaneously from shore to
shore at regular distances, and everywhere round them groups of
strangely dressed boys performed weird circular dances, holding each
other's hands and going around them; then, suddenly letting loose, they
darted and leaped round and round one another and round the fire at the
same time. This dance is ostensibly performed to commemorate the dance
of the god Krishna with the seven gowpiahs, or milkmaids, but there is
scarcely a doubt that this festival originally meant to typify the
revolution of the planets round the sun.
The light from these blazing fires streaming out upon the moonlit river,
the wild discordant music, the hilarious shouts, the frantic dancers,
the sparkle of the dancing-girls, the white-robed figures of the
countless multitude, now flashing in sight in the glare of the
firelight, and anon vanishing in the deep shadows beyond, the piles of
black temples, the great trees with their arms bending down to the river
or stretching toward the clear sky,--all combined to render the last
night of the festival of the Holi at Nashik a most weird and singularly
fantastic sight.
From the first to the last day of our visit here there was nowhere
perceptible the least trace of European influence on the people or in
the city. The people and the city were just what they might have been in
the days when Ptolemy wrote about the latter, purely and wholly Hindoo,
and full of a Brahmanic atmosphere of religious mysticism--a
civilization quite different from anything we had ever witnessed.
There are a number of curious excavations in this neighborhood, about
five miles from the town, in the side of a hill that overhangs the
highway from Bombay. The hill as well as these cavern-temples is called
Pandulená. We rode out on fine horses hired from a native stable close
to the bazaar. The ride out was delightful, the views of the country at
once grand and beautiful, but the excavations were much less interesting
than had been reported to us by Govind, and in no way comparable to the
wondrous structures of Ellora. There is one cave here, however, that has
a superior finish. The roof is finely arched; the dogaba, or memorial
structure, stands at the end and is well executed. Another cave with
idols of seated figures has a flat roof, and is not very interesting,
save that near it is carved in a niche a huge figure of Buddha. The
chief idol here is called Rajah Dhanna--_i. e._ "judge of the dead"--and
is held most sacred by the pilgrims, who were now beginning to arrive
here in strong numbers. The odors of the stuff with which the filthy
gossains rub themselves and their altogether disgusting appearance sent
us hastily back to our quiet lodge, and early next morning we bade adieu
for ever to Nashik.
From Nashik to Trimbak, eighteen or twenty miles, the country is one of
unrivalled beauty. Trimbak is a very sacred spot, where the Godaveri
really takes its rise, and is wholly given up to the Hindoo and Brahman
pilgrims, who were pouring into the place from all the country round. It
is filled by a class of priests whose sole duty it is to instruct
pilgrims in the right way to worship and to receive the gifts bestowed
on the temples. The houses of these priests adjoin the temples; they
lodge the pilgrims without any charge, but each person generally leaves
at the temple a gift which exceeds the cost of his stay. We had no time
to examine the temples here, for we spent only a night at Trimbak, and
started next morning, traversing circuitous roads, crossing some small
nullahs, and by dint of travelling all day and night reached the next
important halting-place, which was no other than Damaun, a famous old
Portuguese town.
The town of Damaun, with its ramparts, gateways, and bastions, is
picturesquely situated. There is on one side of it a fine old fortress
baptized after a Christian saint and called the "Castle of St.
Hieronymus," and on the other a deep, navigable river which still bears
the favorite Hindoo name of Gunga. The country all round Damaun is well
cultivated. The tara palm, the castor oil, the babool, or _Acacia
arabica_,[80] were seen in the gardens and plantations. But the interior
of the Portuguese town struck me as gloomy and exceedingly filthy, and,
though it was full of people--Mohammedans, Hindoos, and Christians, with
even Jews and Parsees--it lacked that air of sprightliness and vivacity
so noticeable in a purely Hindoo population. It was neither one thing
nor the other--not wholly pagan, and only partially Christian. The Roman
Catholic chapel here was once a grand mosque.
Through the kind introduction of a Portuguese friend we were most
cordially received in the home of a venerable native Portuguese named
Johnna Castello. The household consisted of himself and the families of
two married sons; one of the ladies was indisposed, but the other, Donna
Caterina, did the honors of hostess in a simple and unpretending manner.
Our pundit had an outhouse placed at his disposal. The establishment did
not boast of many rooms, and those in which we were lodged were rough
and poorly built of wood. Our meals consisted of rice and curry, fish,
_kabobs_,[81] kid and fowl pillau, with a variety of fine fruits and
vegetables. Our meals were served apart and in European style, but the
quantity of onion and garlic with which almost every dish was seasoned
helped much toward shortening our stay here. Besides which, it seemed to
me that everything was pickled, from the pork (of which the native
Portuguese are very fond) to the young bamboo-shoots. At every fresh
course some half a dozen hot, biting pickles were handed around.
My womanly curiosity led me into the kitchen of this very well-to-do
Portuguese family. It was in keeping with the rest of the place. It was
a low wooden structure, black with smoke and age; a long range of open
fireplaces, made of brick and mortar, ran along on one side; on these
earthen _chatties_, or earthen pots, were boiling away, some covered and
others uncovered; but hanging from the roof above these pots were long
lines of blackened cobwebs that looked as if they had remained
undisturbed for a hundred years. The servants were all men, native
Christians, and were overlooking the cooking or attending to various
culinary duties. They were filthy beyond measure, and so was every nook
and corner of the kitchen. The native Portuguese in this old-fashioned
city of Damaun struck me as peculiarly uninteresting in their manners
and appearance. We saw them in the streets, seated on the verandahs or
doorsteps of their houses, chattering or laughing or quarrelling with
their neighbors in shrill, harsh tones and with ungraceful gestures. In
some aspects Oriental Christianity seems even more degrading than the
worst form of paganism.
In the afternoon of the same day, as we were walking about the town, we
passed a wedding-procession on its way to the Roman Catholic church,
which served in some slight degree to soften the unfavorable impression
produced by the people and the town. It was a gaudy sight. Sheets were
spread along the street leading to the steps of the chapel; flowers,
chiefly the oleander, the rose, and the _mohgre_,[82] were scattered all
over these sheets by dark-skinned Portuguese girls dressed in long white
trousers and old-fashioned pink frocks. Presently the church-bells began
to tinkle merrily, and a company of dark-hued damsels issued in full
sight, dressed in tinsel and gold, with long white muslin veils, almost
like the Hindoo sarees, bound round their persons. The bride was closely
veiled from head to foot in something that looked like the _purdah_[83]
worn by Mohammedan women. We could not see her, but I pleased myself
with imagining that she was young and beautiful. Close to her were two
young women bearing lighted torches, and in the foremost rank were two
Portuguese priests, who led the way to the chapel (once a mosque), each
bearing a silver-mounted crucifix. The bridegroom brought up the rear
dressed as an English general, with a dark-blue embroidered frock-coat,
golden epaulettes, scarlet pantaloons, sword, and a cocked hat with
feathers, accompanied by at least twelve other native gentlemen
similarly attired; but many of these grand-looking officers were
barefooted. This grotesque procession rushed into the chapel in unseemly
haste, and we followed. There was nothing very remarkable in the
exterior of this chapel. But within, the principal altar was very richly
adorned with gilt images of Christ, the Virgin, and saints, with
handsome candlesticks and a great deal of gold and tinsel. There seemed
to be but few seats. Before the marriage ceremony began the bride
dropped her purdah, or veil, and, to my surprise, I found that she was
both ugly and old, and about to be married to the young fellow in the
general's costume, who certainly looked young enough to be her son. She
was a rich old widow, which explained the matter. We did not wait to see
the ceremony, as our stay here was limited to two days, and this was our
last one in Damaun.
After nightfall, as I looked out upon this strange, semi-Christian,
semi-pagan city, old and weather-stained, poorly lighted, and upon that
river named after a Hindoo goddess flowing by so sluggishly, but which,
after the rainy season, often becomes a cruel foe to the peasant and
cultivator, I felt somehow that it was one of the most dismal places in
the world, in spite of its peculiar advantages of a rich soil and
sea-views. Next morning, through the kind offices of our host, who
assisted us in procuring a comfortable berth on board a native craft
called a patemar,[84] we found ourselves sailing before a fine breeze,
bound straight for Surat, one of the most ancient and well-known
seaports of Western India.
FOOTNOTES:
[77] Pur Sawanath and Mah-vira, the twenty-third and twenty-fourth
pontiffs of the present era of the Jains, seem to have superseded all
the former saints in sanctity of character. They are described by the
Jains as having thirty-six superhuman attributes of mind and
body--beauty of form, fragrance of breath; curling hair, which does not
increase in length or decrease in quantity, the same qualities being
attached to their beards and nails; a white complexion, exemption from
all impurities, hunger, decay, bodily infirmity or disease of any kind.
The spiritual attributes are those of justice, truth, faith, love,
benevolence, freedom from all anger and all earthly desires, immense
power of devotion; hence of working miracles, of making themselves heard
at vast distances, speaking intelligibly to men, animals, and gods, of
materializing spirits and conversing with them, and the power of
scattering war, plague, famine, storms, death, sickness, or evil of any
kind by their immediate presence. The heads of these Jain saints are
always described as surrounded with a halo of light, whose brightness is
greater and more far-reaching than that of the sun. The Brahmans, it is
said, with great adroitness, in order to draw to these temples the Jain
pilgrims from Guzerat, Bombay, and other parts of India, take care to
represent their god Parshurama, an incarnation of Vishnu, to be none
other than the Jain saint, Pur Sawanath.
[78] Those who desire to have a detailed account of these caves will
find an admirable description of them given by Col. Sykes in the third
volume of the _Bombay Asiatic Society's Transactions_.
[79] A most popular Hindoo festival held all over Hindostan in honor of
Krishna.
[80] A genus of leguminous trees and shrubs, usually with thorns and
pinnate leaves, and of an airy and elegant appearance. It is found in
all the tropical parts of both the Old World and the New, and also in
Australia and Polynesia. A few species only are found in temperate
climates.
[81] Small pieces of meat seasoned and roasted on a skewer.
[82] A white flower very much like a double jessamine, with much the
same fragrance.
[83] A veil that covers the whole person.
[84] A patemar is a coasting vessel, built generally in Bombay. It has
prow and stern alike, double planked--a handsome craft of about two
hundred tons burden, with two masts and great wide lateen sails.