Now they could see the wide silver ribbon of Mother Narbudda lying
serene and placid in the moonlight, in the centre of the river's wide
flow the gloomy rock embrasures of Mandhatta Island. Where it towered
upward in cliffs and coned hills the summit showed the flickering
lights of many temples, and like the sing of a storm through giant
trees there floated on the night wind the sound of many voices, and the
beating of drums, and the imperious call of horns and conch-shells.
They came upon the _tonga_ waiting by the roadside, and Barlow,
thrusting back the covering from the girl's face said: "Now, Gulab, I
will lift you down. We must find a place in the village beyond for you
to rest to-night; I, too, will remain there and in the morning we will
make our salaams."
Then he drew her face to his and kissed her.
He slipped from the saddle and lifted the girl down, carrying her in
his arms to the _tonga_.
As they neared the village that was situated on the flat land that
swept back from the Narbudda in a wide plain, and nestled against the
river bank, they were swept into a crowd such as would be encountered
on a trip to the Derby. The road was thronged with people, and the
village itself, from which a bridge reached to the Island of Mandhatta,
was a town in holiday attire, for to the Hindus the _mela_ of Omkar was
a union of festivity and devotion.
Both sides of the main street were lined with booths for the sale of
everything; calicoes from Calicut, where these prints first got their
name; hammered Benares ware; gold-threaded cotton puggris from Mewar;
tulwars and khandas from Bhundi. In some of the little shops, bamboo
structures that thrust an underlip out into the street, there was Mhowa
liquor, and _julabis_, and _kabobs_ of goat meat. Open spaces held
tiny circuses--abnormal animals and performing goats, and a moon-bear
on a ring and strap.
The street was full of gossiping men and women and children dodging
here and there; it was an outing where the _ryot_ (farmer) had escaped
from his crotched stick of wood that was a plough, and the village
tradesmen had left his shop, and the servant his service, to feel the
joyousness of a holiday. Mendicants were in abundance prowling in
their ugliness like spirits in a nightmare; some naked, absolute,
others with but a loin-cloth, their lean shrivelled bodies smeared with
ashes--sometimes the ashes of the dead--and cow-dung, carrying on their
arms and foreheads the red and white horizontal bars of Shiva--who was
Omkar at Mandhatta. In their hands were either iron-tongs, with loose
clattering ring, or a yak's tail, or the three-ribbed horn of a
black-buck.
Some of the _yogis_, perhaps Goswamies that had come from the country
where Eklinga was the tutelary deity, had their hair braided and woven
around their foreheads, holding in its fold lotus seeds; beneath the
tiara of hair a crescent of white on their foreheads. A flowing yellow
robe half hid their ash-smeared limbs. A tall Sannyasi--the most
ascetic of sects--his lean yellow-robed form supported by a long staff
at the end of which swung a yellow bag, strode solemnly along with eyes
fixed on a book, the Bhagavad Gita, muttering, "Aum, to the light of
earth, the divine light that illumines our souls. Aum!"
To Barlow it was like a grotesque pantomime with no directing head.
Nautch girls tripped along laughing and chatting, bracelets jingling,
and tiny bells at their ankles tinkling musically. It depressed him;
it was such a terrible juxtaposition of frivolity and the gloomed
shadow of idol worship that lay just the bridge's span of the sullen
Narbudda: the gloomy, broken scraps of the long since deserted forts
that cut with jagged lines the moonlit sky; and beyond them again the
many temples with their scowling Brahmin priests, and the shrine
wherein the god of destruction, Omkar, sat athirst for sacrifice. He
shivered as though the white mist that veiled the river crept into his
marrow.
The Gulab seemed at home amongst these gathered ones. Two or three
times she had bade the driver stop his creeping pace, and looking out
from beneath the curtain had questioned a man or woman. At last, as
they were stopped by a wall of people watching the antics of some
strolling players upon a platform, Bootea spoke to a stout woman who
was pressed against the opening into the cart by the mob.
"_Lucker khan Bhaina, Bowree_," the Gulab said in a low voice, and the
woman's eyes took on a startled look for it was a decoit password, and
the Bowrees were a clan of decoits akin to the Bagrees. From the woman
Bootea learned where she could find a good resting place with the
family of a shop-keeper. There was no doubt about it, the Bowree woman
assured her, for the _tonga_ would impress him, and he was one who
profited from the loot of decoits.
The Gulab was given a place to sleep in the shopkeeper's house that
extended back from his little shop. The driver was ordered to return
in the morning to the Pindari camp. Barlow was for keeping the
_tonga_, hoping that perhaps Bootea would change her mind and go on to
Chunda, but the girl was firm in her determination to end it all at
Mandhatta.
Before Barlow left her to seek some camping place in hut or serai, and
food for himself and horse, the girl said: "If the Sahib will delay his
going to-morrow for a little, Bootea will proceed early to the shrine
to see the Swami--then she will return here, for she would want to see
his face once more before the ending."
"I'll wait, Gulab," he acquiesced; "I'll be here at the tenth hour."
He felt even then an unaccountable chill of their parting, for, many
being about, he could not take her in his arms to kiss her; but their
eyes spoke, and the girl's were luminous, and sweet with a look of
hunger, of pathetic longing, of sublime trust.
As Barlow turned away leading his horse, he muttered over and over,
"Gad! it's incomprehensible that a Sahib should feel this over a--yes,
a native woman; it's damnable!"
He reviled himself, declaring that it was harder on the Gulab than on
him--and he was actually suffering. It would be better if he swung to
the saddle and fled from the misery that prolongation but intensified.
And the girl's brave resignation in giving him up was wonderful, was so
like her.
Then the sight of Mahratta _sowars_, who, it being Sindhia's territory,
were a guard to watch the pilgrim throng, flashed him back to a sense
of duty, his own mission. But it had not suffered because of Bootea;
it had benefitted through her; but for her the written message from the
British would have been lost--stolen by Hunsa, and would have landed in
Nana Sahib's hands; and he would have been slain as the Patan, killer
of Amir Khan.
But the Gulab was right; from that time forward should she listen to
him and go on to Poona, God alone knew where it would lead to--misery.
It would be utter ruin morally, officially, in a caste way; even in
time passionate enthusiasm, engendered by her lovableness, dulled,
would bring utter debasement, degradation of spirit, of man fibre. It
was the wisdom of God that entailed upon the union of the white and
dark-skinned the bar sinister.
Until he slept, wrapped in his blankets on the sand beside his tethered
horse, Barlow was tortured by this mental inquisition. Even in his
troubled sleep there was a nightmare that waked him, panting and
exhausted, and the remembrance was vivid--Bootea lay beneath the mighty
paws of a tiger and he was beating hopelessly at the snarling brute
with a clubbed rifle.