War with Prithirāj.—“The Chauhan is encamped on the plains of Mahoba; Narsingh and Birsingh have fallen, Sirswa is given to the flames, and the kingdom of Parmal laid waste by the Chauhan. For one month a truce has been obtained: while to you I am sent for aid in his griefs. Listen, O sons of Bannaphar; sad have been the days of Malandevi since you left Mahoba! Oft she looks towards Kanauj; and while she recalls you tomind, tears gush from her eyes and she exclaims, ‘The fame of the Chandel is departing’; but when gone, O sons of Jasraj, great will be your self-accusing sorrow: yet, think of Mahoba.”
“Destruction to Mahoba! Annihilation to the Chandel who, without fault [616], expelled us our home: in whose service fell our father, by whom his kingdom was extended. Send the slanderous Parihara—let him lead your armies against the heroes of Delhi. Our heads were the pillars of Mahoba; by us were the Gonds expelled, and their strongholds Deogarh and Chandbari added to his sway. We maintained the field against the Jadon, sacked Hindaun,[15]and planted his standard on the plains of Katehr.[16]It was I (continued Alha) who stopped the sword of the conquering Kachhwaha[17]—The amirs of the Sultan fled before us.—At Gaya we were victorious, and added Rewa[18]to his kingdom. Antarved[19]I gave to the flames, and levelled to the ground the towns of Mewat.[20]From ten princes did Jasraj bring spoil to Mahoba. This have we done; and the reward is exile from our home! Seven times have I received wounds in his service, and since my father’s death gained forty battles; and from seven has Udala conveyed the record of victory[21]to Parmal. Thrice my death seemed inevitable. The honour of his house I have upheld—yet exile is my reward!”
The bard replies—“The father of Parmal left him when a child to the care of Jasraj. Your father was in lieu of his own; the son should not abandon him when misfortune makes him call on you. The Rajput who abandons his sovereign in distress will be plunged into hell. Then place on your head the loyalty of your father. Can you desire to remain at Kanauj while he is introuble, who expended thousands in rejoicings for your birth? Malandevi (the queen), who loves you as her own, presses your return. She bids me demand of Dewaldai fulfilment of the oft-repeated vow, that your life and Mahoba, when endangered, were inseparable. The breaker of vows, despised on earth, will be plunged into hell, there to remain while sun and moon endure.”
Dewaldai heard the message of the queen. “Let us fly to Mahoba,” she [617] exclaimed. Alha was silent, while Udala said aloud, “May evil spirits seize upon Mahoba!—Can we forget the day when, in distress, he drove us forth?—Return to Mahoba—let it stand or fall, it is the same to me; Kanauj is henceforth my home.”
“Would that the gods had made me barren,” said Dewaldai, “that I had never borne sons who thus abandon the paths of the Rajput, and refuse to succour their prince in danger!” Her heart bursting with grief, and her eyes raised to heaven, she continued: “Was it for this, O universal lord, thou mad’st me feel a mother’s pangs for these destroyers of Bannaphar’s fame? Unworthy offspring! the heart of the true Rajput dances with joy at the mere name of strife—but ye, degenerate, cannot be the sons of Jasraj—some carl must have stolen to my embrace, and from such ye must be sprung.” The young chiefs arose, their faces withered in sadness. “When we perish in defence of Mahoba, and covered with wounds, perform deeds that will leave a deathless name; when our heads roll in the field—when we embrace the valiant in fight, and treading in the footsteps of the brave, make resplendent the blood of both lines, even in the presence of the heroes of the Chauhan, then will our mother rejoice.”
The envoy having, by this loyal appeal of Dewaldai, attained the object of his mission, the brothers repair to the monarch of Kanauj,[22]in order to ask permission to return to Mahoba; this is granted, and they are dismissed with magnificent gifts, in which the bardic herald participated;[23]and the parting valediction was“preserve the faith of the Rajputs.” The omens during the march were of the worst kind: as Jagnakh expounded them, Alha with a smile replied, “O bard, though thou canst dive into the dark recesses of futurity, to the brave all omens are happy,[24]even though our heroes shall fall, and the fame of the Chandel must depart; thus in secret does my soul assure me.” The saras[25]was alone on the right—the eagle as he flew dropped his prey—the chakwa[26]“separated“separatedfrom his mate—drops fell from the eyes of the warlike steed—the siyal[27]sent forth sounds of lamentation; spots were seen on the disc of the sun” [618]. The countenance of Lakhan fell;[28]these portents filled his soul with dismay: but Alha said, “though these omens bode death, yet death to the valiant, to the pure in faith, is an object of desire not of sorrow. The path of the Rajput is beset with difficulties, rugged, and filled with thorns; but he regards it not, so it but conducts to battle.”—“To carry joy to Parmala alone occupied their thoughts: the steeds bounded over the plain like the swift-footed deer.” The brothers, ere they reached Mahoba, halted to put on the saffron robe, the sign of “no quarter” with the Rajput warrior. The intelligence of their approach filled the Chandela prince with joy, who advanced to embrace his defenders, and conduct them to Mahoba; while the queen Malandevi came to greet Dewaldai, who with the herald bard paid homage, and returned with the queen to the city. Rich gifts were presented, gems resplendent with light. The queen sent for Alha, and extending her hands over his head, bestowed theasis[29](blessing)(blessing)as kneeling he swore his head was with Mahoba, and then waved a vessel filled with pearls over his head, which were distributed to his followers.[30]
The bardic herald was rewarded with four villages. We are then introduced to the Chauhan camp and council, where Chand the bard is expatiating on the return of the Bannaphars with the succours of Kanauj. He recommends his sovereign to send a herald to the Chandel to announce the expiration of the truce, and requiring him to meet him in the field, or abandon Mahoba. According to the bard’s advice, a dispatch was transmitted to Parmal, in which the cause of war was recapitulated—the murder of the wounded; and stating that, according to Rajput faith, he had granted seven days beyond the time demanded, “and although so many days had passed since succour had arrived from Kanauj, the lion-horn had not yet sounded (singhnad)”: adding, “if he abandon all desire of combat, let him proclaim his vassalage to Delhi, and abandon Mahoba.”
Parmal received the hostile message in despair; but calling his warriors around him, he replied to the herald of the Chauhan, that “on the day of the sun, the first of the month, he would join him in strife” [619].
“On the day sacred to Sukra (Friday), Prithiraj sounded the shell, while the drums thrice struck proclaimed the truce concluded.[31]The standard was brought forth, around which the warriors gathered; the cup circulated, the prospect of battle filled their souls with joy. They anointed their bodies with fragrant oils, while the celestial Apsaras with ambrosial oils and heavenly perfumes anointed their silver forms, tinged their eyelids, and prepared for the reception of heroes.[32]The sound of the war-shell reached Kailas; the abstraction of Iswara was at an end—joy seized his soul at the prospect of completing his chaplet of skulls (mundamala). The Yoginis danced with joy, their faces sparkled with delight, as they seized their vessels to drink the blood of the slain. The devourers of flesh, the Palankashas, sungsongs of triumph at the game of battle between the Chauhan and Chandel.”
In another measure, the bard proceeds to contrast the occupations of his heroes and the celestials preparatory to the combat, which descriptions are termedrupaka. “The heroes gird on their armour, while the heavenly fair deck their persons. They place on their heads the helm crowned with the war-bell (viragantha), these adjust the corset; they draw the girths of the war-steed, the fair of the world of bliss bind the anklet of bells; nets of steel defend the turban’s fold, they braid their hair with golden flowers and gems; the warrior polishes his falchion—the fair tints the eyelid withanjan;[33]the hero points his dagger, the fair paints a heart on her forehead; he braces on his ample buckler—she places the resplendent orb in her ear; he binds his arms with a gauntlet of brass—she stains her hands with the henna. The hero decorates his hand with the tiger-claw[34]—the Apsaras ornaments with rings and golden bracelets; the warrior shakes the ponderous lance—the heavenly fair the garland of love[35]to decorate those who fall in the fight; she binds on a necklace of pearls, he amalaof the tulasi.[36]The warrior strings his bow—the fair assume their killing [620] glances. Once more the heroes look to their girths, while the celestial fair prepare their cars.”
After the bard has finished hisrupaka, he exclaims, “Thus says Chand, the lord of verse; with my own eyes have I seen what I describe.” It is important to remark, that the national faith of the Rajput never questions the prophetic power of their chief bard, whom they call Trikala, or cognoscent of the past, the present, and the future—a character which the bard has enjoyed in all ages and climes; but Chand was the last whom they admitted to possess supernatural vision.
We must now return to Mahoba, where a grand council had assembled at a final deliberation; at which, shaded by screens, the mother of the Bannaphars, and the queen Malandevi, were present. The latter thus opens the debate: “O mother of Alha, how may we succeed against the lord of the world?[37]If defeated, lost is Mahoba; if we pay tribute, we are loaded with shame.” Dewaldai recommends hearingseriatimthe opinions of the chieftains, when Alha thus speaks: “Listen, O mother, to your son; he alone is of pure lineage who, placing loyalty on his head, abandons all thoughts of self, and lays down his life for his prince; my thoughts are only for Parmal. If she lives she will show herself a woman, or emanation of Parvati.[38]The warriors of Sambhar shall be cut in pieces. I will so illustrate the blood of my fathers, that my fame shall last for ever. My son Indal, O prince! I bequeath to you, and the fame of Dewaldai is in your keeping.”
The queen thus replies: “The warriors of the Chauhan are fierce as they are numerous; pay tribute, and save Mahoba.” The soul of Udala inflamed, and turning to the queen, “Why thought you not thus when you slew the defenceless? but then I was unheard. Whence now your wisdom? thrice I beseeched you to pardon. Nevertheless, Mahoba is safe while life remains in me, and in your cause, O Parmal! we shall espouse celestial brides.”
“Well have you spoken, my son,” said Dewaldai, “nothing now remains but to make thy parent’s milk resplendent by thy deeds. The call of the peasant driven [621] from his home meets the ear, and while we deliberate, our villages are given to the flames.” But Parmal replied: “Saturn[39]rules the day, to-morrow we shall meet the foe.” With indignation Alha turned to the king: “He who can look tamely on while the smoke ascends from his ruined towns, his fields laid waste, can be no Rajput—he who succumbs to fear when his country is invaded, his body will be plunged into the hell of hells, his soul a wanderer in the world of spirits for sixty thousand years; but the warriorwho performs his duty will be received into the mansion of the sun, and his deeds will last for ever.”
But cowardice and cruelty always accompany each other, nor could all the speeches of the brothers “screw his courage to the sticking place.” Parmal went to his queen, and gave fresh vent to his lamentation. She upbraided his unmanly spirit, and bid him head his troops and go forth to the fight. The heroes embraced their wives for the last time, and with the dawn performed their pious rites. The Bannaphar offered oblations to the nine planets, and having adored the image of his tutelary god, he again put the chain round his neck;[40]then calling his son Indal, and Udala his brother, he once more poured forth his vows to the universal mother “that he would illustrate the name of Jasraj, and evince the pure blood derived from Dewaldai, whene’er he met the foe.”—“Nobly have you resolved,” said Udala, “and shall not mykirwan[41]also dazzle the eyes of Sambhar’s lord? shall he not retire from before me?”—“Farewell, my children,” said Dewaldai, “be true to your salt, and should you lose your heads for your prince, doubt not you will obtain the celestial crown.” Having ceased, the wives of both exclaimed, “What virtuous wife survives her lord? for thus says Gauriji,[42]‘the woman, who survives her husband who falls in the field of battle, will never obtain bliss, but wander a discontented ghost in the region of unhallowed spirits.’”
This is sufficient to exhibit the supreme influence of women, not only on, but also in society.
The extract is taken from the Bardic historian, when Hindu customs were pure, and the Chauhan was paramount sovereign of India. It is worth while to compare it with another written six centuries after the conquest by the Muhammadans; although six dynasties—namely, Ghazni, Ghor, Khilji [622], Sayyid, Lodi, and Mogul, numbering more than thirty kings, had intervened, yet the same uncontrollable spirit was in full force, unchangeable even in misfortune. Both Hindu and Persian historians expatiate with delight on the anecdote; but we prefer the narrative of the ingenuous Bernier, under whose eye the incident occurred.
Jaswant Singh and his Wife.—In the civil war for empire amongst the sons of Shah Jahan, when Aurangzeb opened his career by the deposal of his father and the murder of his brothers, the Rajputs, faithful to the emperor, determined to oppose him. Under the intrepid Rathor Jaswant Singh, thirty thousand Rajputs, chiefly of that clan, advanced to the Nerbudda, and with a magnanimity amounting to imprudence, they permitted the junction of Murad with Aurangzeb, who, under cover of artillery served by Frenchmen, crossed the river almost unopposed. Next morning the action commenced, which continued throughout the day. The Rajputs behaved with their usual bravery; but were surrounded on all sides, and by sunset left ten thousand dead on the field.[43]The Maharaja retreated to his own country, but his wife, a daughter of the Rana of Udaipur, “disdained (says Ferishta) to receive her lord, and shut the gates of the castle.”
Bernier, who was present, says, “I cannot forbear to relate the fierce reception which the daughter of the Rana gave to her husband Jeswunt Singh [Jessom Seingue], after his defeat and flight. When she heard he was nigh, and had understood what had passed in the battle; that he had fought with all possible courage; that he had but four or five hundred men left; and at last, no longer able to resist the enemy, had been forced to retreat; instead of sending some one to condole him in his misfortunes, she commanded in a dry mood to shut the gates of the castle, and not to let this infamous man enter; that he was not her husband; that the son-in-law of the great Rana could not have so mean a soul; that he was to remember, that being grafted into so illustrious a house, he was to imitate its virtue; in a word, he was to vanquish, or to die. A moment after, she was of another humour; she commands a pile of wood to be laid, that she mightburn herself; that they abused her; that her husband must needs be dead; that it could not be otherwise. And a little while after, she was seen to change countenance, to [623] fall into a passion, and break into a thousand reproaches against him. In short, she remained thus transported eight or nine days, without being able to resolve to see her husband, till at last her mother coming, brought her in time to herself, composed by assuring her that as soon as the Raja had but refreshed himself he would raise another army to fight Aurangzeb, and repair his honour. By which story one may see,” says Bernier, “a pattern of the courage of the women in that country”; and he adds this philosophical corollary on this and the custom of satis, which he had witnessed: “There is nothing which opinion, prepossession, custom, hope, and the point of honour, may not make men do or suffer.”[44]
The Tale of Sanjogta.—The romantic history of the Chauhan emperor of Delhi abounds in sketches of female character; and in the story of his carrying off Sanjogta, the princess of Kanauj, we have not only the individual portrait of the Helen of her country, but in it a faithful picture of the sex. We see her, from the moment when, rejecting the assembled princes, she threw the “garland of marriage” round the neck of her hero, the Chauhan, abandon herself to all the influences of passion—mix in a combat of five days’ continuance against her father’s array, witness his overthrow, and the carnage of both armies, and subsequently, by her seductive charms, lulling her lover into a neglect of every princely duty. Yet when the foes of his glory and power invade India, we see the enchantress at once start from her trance of pleasure, and exchanging the softer for the sterner passions, in accents not less strong because mingled with deep affection, she conjures him, while arming him for the battle, to die for his fame, declaring that she will join him in “the mansions of the sun.” Though it is difficult to extract, in passages sufficiently condensed, what may convey a just idea of this heroine, we shall attempt it in the bard’s own language, rendered into prose. He announces the tidings of invasion by the medium of a dream, which the Chauhan thus relates:
“‘This night, while in the arms of sleep, a fair, beautiful as Rambha, rudely seized my arm; then she assailed you, and while you were struggling, a mighty elephant,[45]infuriated, and hideous as a demon, bore down upon me. Sleep fled—nor Rambha nor demon remained—but my heart was panting, and [624] my quivering lips mutteringHar! Har![46]What is decreed the gods only know.’
“Sanjogta replied, ‘Victory and fame to my lord! O, sun of the Chauhans, in glory, or in pleasure, who has tasted so deeply as you? To die is the destiny not only of man but of the gods: all desire to throw off the old garment; but to die well is to live for ever. Think not of self, but of immortality; let your sword divide your foe, and I will be yourardhanga[47]hereafter.’
“The“Theking sought the bard, who expounded the dream, and the Guru wrote an incantation, which he placed in his turban. A thousand brass vessels of fresh milk were poured in libations to the sun and moon. Ten buffaloes were sacrificed to the supporters of the globe, and gifts were made to all. But will offerings of blood or libations of milk arrest what is decreed? If by these man could undo what is ordained, would Nala or the Pandus have suffered as they did?”
While the warriors assemble in council to consult on the best mode of opposing the Sultan of Ghazni, the king leaves them to deliberate, in order to advise with Sanjogta. Her reply is curious:
“Who asks woman for advice? The world deems their understanding shallow; even when truths issue from their lips, none listen thereto. Yet what is the world without woman? We have the forms of Sakti[48]with the fire of Siva; we are at once thieves and sanctuaries; we are vessels of virtue and of vice—of knowledge and of ignorance. The man of wisdom, the astrologer, can from the books calculate the motion and course of the planets; but in the book of woman he is ignorant: and this is not a saying of to-day, it ever has been so: our book has not been mastered, therefore, to hide their ignorance, they say,in woman there is no wisdom! Yet woman shares your joys and your sorrows. Even when you depart from the mansion of the sun, we part not. Hunger and thirst we cheerfully partake with you; we are as the lakes, of which you are the swans; what are when absent from our bosoms?”
The army having assembled, and all being prepared to march against the Islamite, in the last great battle which subjugated India, the fair Sanjogta armed her lord for the encounter.InInvain she sought the rings of his corslet; her eyes were [625] fixed on the face of the Chauhan, as those of the famished wretch who finds a piece of gold. The sound of the drum reached the ear of the Chauhan; it was as a death-knell on that of Sanjogta: and as he left her to head Delhi’s heroes, she vowed that henceforward water only should sustain her. “I shall see him again in the region of Surya, but never more in Yoginipur.”[49]Her prediction was fulfilled: her lord was routed, made captive and slain; and, faithful to her vow, she mounted the funeral pyre.
The Queen of Ganor.—Were we called upon to give a pendant for Lucretia, it would be found in the queen of Ganor.[50]After having defended five fortresses against the foe, she retreated to her last stronghold on the Nerbudda, and had scarcely left the bark, when the assailants arrived in pursuit. The disheartened defenders were few in number, and the fortress was soon in possession of the foe, the founder of the family now ruling in Bhopal. The beauty of the queen of Ganor was an allurement only secondary to his desire for her country, and he invited her to reign over it and him. Denial would have been useless, and would have subjected her to instant coercion, for the Khan awaited her reply in the hall below; she therefore sent a message of assent, with a complimentary reflection on his gallant conduct and determination of pursuit; adding, that he merited her hand for his bravery, and might prepare for the nuptials, which should be celebrated on the terrace of the palace. She demanded two hours for unmolested preparation, that she might appear in appropriate attire, and with the distinction her own and his rank demanded.
Ceremonials, on a scale of magnificence equal to the shortness of the time, were going on. The song of joy had already stifled the discordant voice of war, and at length the Khan was summoned to the terrace. Robed in the marriage garb presented to him by the queen, with a necklace and aigrette of superb jewels from the coffers of Ganor, he hastened to obey the mandate, and found that fame had not done justice to her charms. He was desired to be seated, and in conversation full of rapture on his side, hours were as minutes while he gazed on the beauty of the queen. But presently his countenance fell—he complained of heat; punkas and water were brought, but they availed him not, and he began to tear the bridal garments from his frame, when the queen thus addressed him [626]: “Know, Khan, that your last hour is come; our wedding and our death shall be sealed together. The vestments which cover you are poisoned; you had left me no other expedient to escape pollution.” While all were horror-struck by this declaration, she sprung from the battlements into the flood beneath. The Khan died in extreme torture, and was buried on the road to Bhopal; and, strange to say, a visit to his grave has the reputation of curing the tertian of that country.[51]
Rāja Jai Singh and his Wife.—We may give another anecdote illustrative of this extreme delicacy of sentiment, but without so tragical a conclusion. The celebrated Raja Jai Singh of Amberhad espoused a princess of Haraoti, whose manners and garb, accordant with the simplicity of that provincial capital, subjected her to the badinage of the more refined court of Amber, whose ladies had added the imperial costume to their own native dress. One day being alone with the prince, he began playfully to contrast the sweeping jupe of Kotah with the more scanty robe of the belles of his own capital; and taking up a pair of scissors, said he would reduce it to an equality with the latter. Offended at such levity, she seized his sword, and assuming a threatening attitude, said, “that in the house to which she had the honour to belong, they were not habituated to jests of this nature; that mutual respect was the guardian, not only of happiness but of virtue”; and she assured him, that if he ever again so insulted her, he would find that the daughter of Kotah could use a sword more effectively than the prince of Amber the scissors; adding, that she would prevent any future scion of her house from being subjected to similar disrespect, by declaring such intermarriagestalak, or forbidden, which interdict I believe yet exists.[52]
A Courageous Rājput Woman.—I will append an anecdote related by the celebrated Zalim Singh, characteristic of the presence of mind, prowess, and physical strength of the Rajput women. To attend and aid in the minutiae of husbandry is by no means uncommon with them, as to dress and carry the meals of their husbands to the fields is a general practice. In the jungle which skirts the knolls of Pachpahar, a huge bear assaulted a Rajputni as she was carrying her husband’s dinner. As he approached with an air of gallantry upon his hind-legs, doubting whether the food or herself [627] were the intended prey, she retreated behind a large tree, round the trunk of which Bruin, still in his erect attitude, tried all his powers of circumvention to seize her. At length, half exhausted, she boldly grasped his paws, and with so vigorous a hold that he roared with pain, while in vain, with his short neck, did he endeavour to reach the powerful hand which fixed him. While she was in this dilemma, a Pardesi (a foreign soldier of the State) happened to be passingto the garrison of Gagraun, and she called out to him in a voice of such unconcern to come and release her for a time, that he complied without hesitation. She had not retired, however, above a dozen yards ere he called loudly for her return, being scarcely able to hold his new friend; but laughingly recommending perseverance, she hastened on, and soon returned with her husband, who laid the monster prostrate with his matchlock, and rescued the Pardesi from his unpleasing predicament.[53]
Such anecdotes might be multipliedad infinitum; but I will conclude with one displaying the romantic chivalry of the Rajput, and the influence of the fair in the formation of character; it is taken from the annals of Jaisalmer, the most remote of the States of Rajasthan, and situated in the heart of the desert, of which it is an oasis.
The Wedding of Sādhu.—Raningdeo was lord of Pugal, a fief of Jaisalmer; his heir, named Sadhu, was the terror of the desert, carrying his raids even to the valley of the Indus, and on the east to Nagor. Returning from a foray, with a train of captured camels and horses, he passed by Aurint, where dwelt Manik Rao, the chief of the Mohils, whose rule extended over 1440 villages. Being invited to partake of the hospitality of the Mohil, the heir of Pugal attracted the favourable regards of the old chieftain’s daughter:
She loved him for the dangers he had passed;
She loved him for the dangers he had passed;
She loved him for the dangers he had passed;
She loved him for the dangers he had passed;
for he had the fame of being the first riever of the desert. Although betrothed to the heir of the Rathor of Mandor, she signified her wish to renounce the throne to be the bride of the chieftain of Pugal; and in spite of the dangers he provoked, and contrary to the Mohil chief’s advice, Sadhu, as a gallant Rajput, dared not reject the overture, and he promised “to accept the coco,”[54]if sent in form to Pugal [628]. In due time it came, and the nuptials were solemnized at Aurint. The dower was splendid; gems of high price, vessels of gold and silver, a golden bull, and a train of thirteendewadharis,[55]or damsels of wisdom and penetration.
Arankanwal, the slighted heir of Mandor, determined on revenge, and with four thousand Rathors planted himself in the path of Sadhu’s return, aided by the Sankhla Mehraj, whose son Sadhu had slain. Though entreated to add four thousand Mohils to his escort, Sadhu deemed his own gallant band of seven hundred Bhattis sufficient to convey his bride to his desert abode, and with difficulty accepted fifty, led by Meghraj, the brother of the bride.
The rivals encountered at Chondan, where Sadhu had halted to repose; but the brave Rathor scorned the advantage of numbers, and a series of single combats ensued, with all the forms of chivalry. The first who entered the lists was Jaitanga, of the Pahu clan, and of the kin of Sadhu. The enemy came upon him by surprise while reposing on the ground, his saddle-cloth for his couch, and the bridle of his steed twisted round his arm; he was soon recognized by the Sankhla, who had often encountered his prowess, on which he expatiated to Arankanwal, who sent an attendant to awake him; but the gallant Panch Kalyan (for such was the name of his steed) had already performed this service, and they found him upbraiding white-legs[56]for treading upon him. Like a true Rajput,“toujours prêt,”he received the hostile message, and sent the envoy back with his compliments, and a request for someamalor opium, as he had lost his own supply. With all courtesy this was sent, and prepared by the domestics of his antagonist; after taking which he lay down to enjoy the customary siesta. As soon as he awoke, he prepared for the combat, girt on his armour, and having reminded Panch Kalyan of the fields he had won, and telling him to bear him well that day, he mounted and advanced. The son of Chonda admiring his sang-froid, and the address with which he guided his steed, commanded Jodha Chauhan, the leader of his party, to encounter the Pahu. “Their two-edged swords soon clashed in combat”; but the gigantic Chauhan fell beneath the Bhatti, who, warmedwith the fight, plunged amidst his foes, encountering all he deemed worthy of his assault.
The fray thus begun, single combats and actions of equal parties followed, the [629] rivals looking on. At length Sadhu mounted: twice he charged the Rathor ranks, carrying death on his lance; each time he returned for the applause of his bride, who beheld the battle from her car. Six hundred of his foes had fallen, and nearly half his own warriors. He bade her a last adieu, while she exhorted him to the fight, saying, “she would witness his deeds, and if he fell, would follow him even in death.” Now he singled out his rival Arankanwal,[57]who was alike eager to end the strife, and blot out his disgrace in his blood. They met: some seconds were lost in a courteous contention, each yielding to his rival the first blow, at length dealt out by Sadhu on the neck of the disappointed Rathor. It was returned with the rapidity of lightning, and the daughter of the Mohil saw the steel descend on the head of her lover. Both fell prostrate to the earth: but Sadhu’s soul had sped; the Rathor had only swooned. With the fall of the leaders the battle ceased; and the fair cause of strife, Karamdevi, at once a virgin, a wife, and a widow, prepared to follow her affianced. Calling for a sword, with one arm she dissevered the other, desiring it might be conveyed to the father of her lord—“tell him such was his daughter.” The other she commanded to be struck off, and given, with her marriage jewels thereon, to the bard of the Mohils. The pile was prepared on the field of battle; and taking her lord in her embrace, she gave herself up to the devouring flames. The dissevered limbs were disposed of as commanded; the old Rao of Pugal caused the one to be burnt, and a tank was excavated on the spot, which is still called after the heroine, “the lake of Karamdevi.”
This encounter took place in S. 1462,A.D.1406. The brunt of the battle fell on the Sankhlas, and only twenty-five out of three hundred and fifty left the field with their leader, Mehraj, himself severely wounded. The rejected lover had four brothers dangerously hurt; and in six months the wounds of Arankanwal opened afresh: he died, and the rites to the manes of these rivalsin love, thechhamasa[58]of Sadhu, and theduadasa[59]of Arankanwal, were celebrated on the same day.
Without pausing to trace the moral springs of that devotion which influenced the Mohila maiden, we shall relate the sequel to the story (though out of place)[60]in illustration of the prosecution of feuds throughout Rajasthan. The fathers [630] now took up the quarrel of their sons; and as it was by the prowess of the Sankhla vassal of Mandor that the band of Sadhu was discomfited, the old Rao, Raningdeo, drew together the lances of Pugal, and carried destruction into the fief of Mehraj. The Sankhlas yield in valour to none of the brave races who inhabit the “region of death”; and Mehraj was the father of Harbuji Sankhla, the Palladin of Marudes, whose exploits are yet the theme of the erratic bards of Rajasthan. Whether he was unprepared for the assault, or overcome by numbers, three hundred of his kin and clan moistened the sand-hills of the Luni with their blood. Raningdeo, flushed with revenge and laden with spoil, had reached his own frontier, when he was overtaken by Chonda of Mandor, alike eager to avenge the loss of his son Arankanwal, and this destructive inroad on his vassal. A desperate conflict ensued, in which the Rao of Pugal was slain; and the Rathor returned in triumph to Mandor.
Unequal to cope with the princes of Mandor, the two remaining sons of Raningdeo, Tana and Mera, resolved to abandon their faith, in order to preserve the point of honour, and “to take up their father’s feud.”[61]At this period the king, Khizr Khan,[62]was at Multan; to him they went, and by offers of service and an open apostacy, obtained a force to march against Chonda, who had recently added Nagor to his growing dominions. While the brothers were thus negotiating, they were joined by Kilan, the third son of their common sovereign, the Rawal of Jaisalmer, who advised the use ofchal, which with the Rajput means indifferently stratagem or treachery, so that it facilitates revenge. With the ostensible motive of ending their feuds, and restoring tranquillity to their borderers, whose sole occupation was watching,burning, and devastating, Kilan offered a daughter in marriage to Chonda, and went so far as to say, that if he suspected aught unfair, he would, though contrary to custom and his own dignity, send the Bhatti princess to Nagor. This course being deemed the wisest, Chonda acquiesced in his desire “to extinguish the feud (wair bujhana).”
Nāgor taken by Stratagem.—Fifty covered chariots were prepared as the nuptial cortège, but which, instead of the bride and her handmaids, contained the bravest men of Pugal.[63]These were preceded by a train of horses led by Rajputs, of whom seven hundred also attended the camels laden with baggage, provisions, and gifts, while a small armed [631] retinue brought up the rear. The king’s troops, amounting to one thousand horse, remained at a cautious distance behind. Chonda left Nagor to meet the cavalcade and his bride, and had reached the chariots ere his suspicions were excited. Observing, however, some matters which little savoured of festivity, the Rathor commenced his retreat. Upon this the chiefs rushed from their chariots and camels, and the royal auxiliaries advancing, Chonda was assailed and fell at the gate of Nagor; and friend and foe entering the city together, a scene of general plunder commenced.
Once more the feud was balanced; a son and a father had fallen on each side, and the petty Rao of Pugal had bravely maintained thewairagainst the princes of Mandor. The point of honour had been carried to the utmost bound by both parties, and an opportunity of reconciliation was at hand, which prevented the shadow of disgrace either to him who made or him who accepted the overture. The Rathors dreaded the loss of the recent acquisition, Nagor, and proposed to the Bhattis to seal their pacification with the blood of their common foe. United, they fell on the spoil-encumbered Tatars, whom they slew to a man.[64]Their father’s feud thus revenged, the sons of Raningdeo (who, as apostates from their faith, could no longer hold Pugal in fief, which was retained by Kilan, who had aided their revenge) retired amongst the Aboharia Bhattis, and their descendants are now styled Momin Musalman Bhatti.
From such anecdotes it will be obvious wherein consists the point of honour with the Rajputs; and it is not improbable that the very cause which has induced an opinion that females can have no influence on the lords of the creation, namely, their seclusion, operates powerfully in the contrary way.
Influence of Women on Rājput Society.—In spite of this seclusion, the knowledge of their accomplishments and of their personal perfections, radiates wherever the itinerant bard can travel. Though invisible themselves, they can see; and accident often favours public report, and brings the object of renown within the sphere of personal observation: as in the case of Sadhu and the Mohila maiden. Placed behind screens, they see the youths of all countries, and there are occasions when permanent impressions are made, during tournaments and other martial exercises. Here we have just seen that the passion of the [632] daughter of the Mohil was fostered at the risk of the destruction not only of her father’s house, but also that of her lover; and as the fourteen hundred and forty towns, which owned the sway of the former, were not long after absorbed into the accumulating territory of Mandor, this insult may have been the cause of the extirpation of the Mohils, as it was of the Bhattis of Pugal.
The influence of women on Rajput society is marked in every page of Hindu history, from the most remote periods. What led to the wars of Rama? the rape of Sita. What rendered deadly the feuds of the Yadus? the insult to Draupadi. What made prince Nala an exile from Narwar? his love for Damayanti. What made Raja Bhartari abandon the throne of Avanti? the loss of Pingali. What subjected the Hindu to the dominion of the Islamite? the rape of the princess of Kanauj. In fine, the cause which overturned kingdoms, commuted the sceptre to the pilgrim’s staff, and formed the groundwork of all their grand epics, is woman. In ancient, and even in modern times, she had more than a negative in the choice of a husband, and this choice fell on the gallant and the gay. The fair Draupadi was the prize of the best archer, and the Pandu Bhima established his fame, and bore her from all the suitors of Kampila. The princess of Kanauj, when led through ranks of the princes of Hind, each hoping to be the object of her choice, threw the marriage-garland (barmala) over the neck of the effigy of the Chauhan, which herfather in derision had placed as porter at the gate. Here was incense to fame and incentive to gallantry![65]
In the same manner, as related in another part of this work, did the princess of Kishangarh invite Rana Raj Singh to bear her from the impending union with the emperor of the Moguls; and abundant other instances could be adduced of the free agency of these invisibles.
It were superfluous to reason on the effects of traditional histories, such as these, on the minds and manners of the females of Rajasthan. They form the amusement of their lives, and the grand topic in all their conversaziones; they read them with the Purohit, and they have them sung by the itinerant bard or Dholi minstrel [633], who disseminates them wherever the Rajput name extends. The Rajput mother claims her full share in the glory of her son, who imbibes at the maternal fount his first rudiments of chivalry; and the importance of this parental instruction cannot be better illustrated than in the ever-recurring simile, “make thy mother’s milk resplendent”; the full force of which we have in the powerful, though overstrained expression of the Bundi queen’s joy on the announcement of the heroic death of her son: “the long-dried fountain at which he fed, jetted forth as she listened to the tale of his death, and the marble pavement, on which it fell, rent asunder.” Equally futile would it be to reason on the intensity of sentiment thus implanted in the infant Rajput, of whom we may say without metaphor, the shield is his cradle, and daggers his playthings; and with whom the first commandment is, “avenge thy father’s feud”; on which they can heap text upon text, from the days of the great Pandu moralist Vyasa to the not less influential bard of their nation, the Trikala Chand.