CHAPTER III
THE SACRED LAND
Round about the town ofThanesarliesBrahmavartathe sacred land of the Hindus, and within a short walk of the town is Kurukshetra.
Thanesar itself is in ruins, and the lake near which the Pandavas and Kauravas fought their great battle is now a dismal swamp, yet adorned on one side by a beautiful fringe of really magnificent banyan trees, under whose leafy covering are sheltered a few of those unimposing brick and plaster temples so common in Upper India.
Unsparing time has strewn the whole world with the ruins of man’s handiwork. The crumbling remains of cities, temples and palaces may be found in every country under the sun; and, according to circumstances, appeal to widely different feelings and evoke widely different sentiments in the heart of the spectator. Thus, it is with a profound sense of the reality and greatness of Roman power that we muse amidst the columns of the Forum, or recall to mind in the mighty Colosseum the tragic pastimes of the imperial people. It is with a respectful admiration, not unmingled with pity, that we see in old Delhi the considerable ruins of the lordly mosque constructed out of the spoils of more ancient Hindu temples. But it is only with a feeling of simple depression, unrelieved by any other sentiment, that we wander amongst the extensive brickruins of Thanesar, unredeemed by a trace of either beauty or grandeur, and largely tenanted by monkeys, in whom a pious Punjabi graduate recognizes “defunct Brahmans ... watching as it were over their old habitations.”[108]
I visited the town in December, 1892, and never have I seen a place which looked more utterly forlorn. Whole streets of brick-built houses quite modern in appearance falling into ruins, which are too mean to be interesting, too recent to be picturesque and, for the most part, entirely uninhabited, except by the “defunct Brahmans” already referred to. Where shops and dwellings still exist they partake of the general tumble-down character of the town; but the wares for sale are by no means ancient, and show that the remnant who burrow in Thanesar still indulge in the rich confectionery of the country and still take pleasure in the gay-colouredsareeand the glitteringchowreeof glass.
Amidst the general decay a few Hindu temples with tall, tapering spires still show a brave front, and the tomb of the Mussulman saint, Shaikh Chilli, built on a slight elevation, rears its marble dome into the air with something of pride; but the rest, as I have said, is meanness and squalor itself.
Within the precincts of Shaikh Chilli’s tomb is a school where I saw the boys at their tasks as I passed in to see the place. “What unlucky boys,” thought I, “to be brought up amidst the unwholesome moral atmosphere of a decaying city!”
Although there is no present glory or grandeur about Kurukshetra, a visit to it will repay the thoughtful student of Indian history and religion.
In an expanse of flat country, from which, however, the blue outlines of the Himalayas may be traced inthe distance, the traveller finds, a short way outside Thanesar, a shallow swamp about three miles in circumference and overgrown with weeds. This is the historic lake which, according to General Cunningham, was a sacred place long anterior to the great war; indeed, as far back as the time of the Rig Veda itself. “Can it be possible,” I mused, as I stood beside this weed-covered pool, “that for a hundred generations the affectionate devotion of the Hindu race has consistently and persistently clung to this unattractive bit of water in an open plain?” “And how is it,” I asked myself, “that their piety never adorned its banks with temples (for there are here no ruins worth speaking of), and why is it now so neglected?”
Will the reader accompany me round the lake and survey it from all points of view?[109]On the east side are the only important buildings, the largest being a temple of very modern date and no architectural pretensions. It is an ordinaryMandir; but has just a slight local character in the fact that it contains five coloured clay statues of the Pandavas, railed off from the too curious or too pious spectator by a strong, rudely constructed railing of bamboos. It rejoices in the possession of a huge iron frying-pan—not less than eight feet in diameter and about nine inches deep—to which my attention was specially directed. This gigantic frying-pan is much in demand on festival days, when the multitude pays to be fed by the Brahmans.
A flight of steps leads from the temple into the water, and runs nearly along one-half of the eastern and northern sides of the lake. A causeway on arches extends into the lake and ends in a small temple picturesquely shadowed with trees. Another bridge, now but little above the level of the water, parallel tothe causeway just mentioned, leads right across the lake, joining to both east and west banks a small island in the middle, on which that famous bigot, the Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb, erected a diminutive fort to accommodate a small garrison, intrusted with the duty of preventing the Hindus from bathing in their sacred pool.
Proceeding along the east bank we pass a number of small tumble-down shrines, overshadowed by majestic banyans, extending their mighty arms in graceful curves over the tranquil green water. We still follow the steps and arrive at the north end which has quite a recent look about it. Our guide tells us that this modern addition was the work of one “Larkeen Sahib,” an official in these parts, who was very fond of the Hindu, and had built thisghatfor them out of a feeling of gratitude because his wife had owed her recovery from a mysterious illness to the intercession of the Brahmans. Oh! “Larkeen Sahib,” I wonder if the pious local legend which is told about you has ever reached your ears!
On the western side we find a little brick cenotaph which commemorates thesutteeof the five wives of a Brahman whose name is now forgotten.
Somewhat in advance of this cenotaph, and a little away from the lake-side, we are conducted to a “bythuck” of Guru Nanak, the original founder of the Sikh sect, and we take shelter within its walls from a pelting shower of rain which makes the landscape more cheerless than ever. Here our guide informs us Guru Nanak used to sit beside the sacred pool to practise contemplation. But the admiring crowds who came to visit him would give him no peace; so one day, to avoid their unwelcome attentions, he just sank into the ground and, following a subterranean tunnel, emerged at Hurdwar on the Ganges. There could be no doubt about this miraculous underground journey,for there was the very tunnel itself to support the truth of the story, with a substantial flight of steps leading down into it. Yes, true enough, there were three or four steps leading down into a small hole within the walls of the shrine. But how about the tunnel? My son descended into the hole to explore it. A look of chagrin passed over the face of our Brahman guide. Why this unnecessary and irreverent curiosity? The storymustbe true, forevery onebelieved it; and, certainly, the position of thisbythuckof Guru Nanak is interesting, for it shows how persistently the Sikhs attach themselves to the old Hindu faith to which the vast majority of professing Sikhs now practically belong.
THE TEMPLE AND BATHING GHÂTS ON THE SACRED LAKE AT KURUKSHETRA.
If there is anything that strikes one at Kurukshetra—and similar places in India—it is that the Brahmans have clung with wonderful tenacity through the vicissitudes of ages to their sacredspots; and that though they have, according to universal belief, enjoyed considerable revenues, they have, through all these ages, done nothing to adorn their sacred places, which owe what temporary embellishment they have to the not too magnificent and not too frequent liberality of individuals. It strikes one also that, with each changing fashion of belief, each rise of a new sect, the Brahmans having willingly accommodated it with a convenient local habitation and have hastened to associate its glories with those of its predecessors. Hence the shrine of Guru Nanak at Kurukshetra, alongside which we shall, no doubt, some day have one in honour of Swami Dayanand, when the Aryan sect is sufficiently grown to impress the Brahmans with its importance; the mere matter of orthodoxy or unorthodoxy being somewhat unimportant.
The reason for the wonderful persistence with which the affectionate regard of the Hindus has hovered round their old shrines and holy places for thousandsof years, though at first sight rather strange, is not difficult of explanation.They have a hereditary priesthood, a priesthood that lives by the proceeds of the shrines, and to whom the shrines are what land is to the cultivator. In this simple fact lies the explanation of the matter, and of other points in Hindu religious history, and probably in the history of other nations with hereditary priesthoods. Successive generations of priests have, for their own subsistence, to attract to the shrine they have inherited successive generations of pilgrims, by keeping alive the old traditions, or inventing new legends to suit the altered tastes of the times. As the weeds that flourish in the lake are lineal descendants of the weeds that grew in the same place time out of mind, so are the Brahmans on the banks of the lake the lineal descendants of the Brahmans who flourished there in times immemorial. As the weeds live on the rank soil and stagnant water of the pond, so live the Brahmans on their wild legends and stale pretensions.
Guru Nanak’sbythuck—the presence of which on the lake-side led to the above digression—is but a few hundred yards from the west end of Aurangzeb’s bridge and, as there appeared to be nothing of interest on the south side, we crossed over to the island, inspected the Mughal fort and, following the bridge, returned to the principal temple; but before doing so we managed to secure a few photographs of the pretty scene on the east bank as viewed from the bridge.
In the region round Kurukshetra, within a “circuit of one hundred and sixty miles,” says General Cunningham, “there are popularly said to be three hundred and sixty holy sites,” most of which are connected with the names of the heroes of the ‘Mahabharata.’ Many of these are no doubt genuine ancient places, as attested by their high mounds and brick ruins. But the greater number appear to me to be the inventions of moderndays. According to the Mahatmyas, of which only one is said to be old, the holy places had lain desolate for several centuries after the Muhammadan conquest, when aDandior mendicant, named Ram Chandra Swâmi, came from Kâsi to Kurukshetra. He was grieved to see the desolation and determined to stop there and try to restore the holy places. But, as even the sites of many were unknown, he professed to have obtained a knowledge of them in his dreams; and, accordingly, he wrote a book describing them, which is called the “Mahatmya of 6000 slokas,” and also the “Dandi Mahatmya.” Long afterwards a Pandit of Thanesar, named Banmáli, traced all the holy sites from the positions given by the Dandi, whose account is now accepted as genuine by all Brahmans, although “his only authority for the identification was a dream.”[110]
With the foregoing in mind I was not very eager to visit the sacred places, which have neither scenic nor architectural attractions. However, I could not leave Brahmavarta without seeing the holy Saraswati. The only form of conveyance available at Thanesar was theEkkaand, though I knew from sad experience what ekkas could do in the way of producing discomfort to every limb, I was fain to call them into requisition as the time at my disposal was short. Two ekkas were engaged, one for my son and myself, the other for the indispensableBabuand the Brahman guide. What a sight we twounhindupilgrims did present as we contorted ourselves into the springless vehicle and set off for the Saraswati! In a drenching downpour of rain ourEkka-wallahdrove us, almost jolted to bits, over the worst roads ever made, to a spot where theSamadhof a deceased Rajah of Faridekote now stands. Here we had to dismount and proceed on foot to the river, famous since the time when theAryans settled in India. Dripping wet, and aching all over, I proceeded with the rest through the grass and slush a hundred yards or so, to find myself on the banks of a tiny stream not twenty yards wide, which was sluggishly flowing at my feet. I had now seen the historic Saraswati and my visit to the sacred land was practically over.
It is at the time of a lunar eclipse, when the waters of all other sacred tanks mingle mysteriously with those of the ponds near Thanesar, that the Brahmans of Kurukshetra reap their harvest of gains; for then tens of thousands of pilgrims crowd to bathe in the sacred pool, and, of course, fee the priests according to the measure of their means and their piety.[111]The Punjab University graduate, already quoted, gives us some curious particulars in regard to the largesses distributed on such occasions by the wealthy. He tells us, with reference to solar eclipses, that “The Rajahs and Maharajahs of the land, too, are not absent on such occasions. They untie their purse-strings, and hundreds and thousands of rupees are considered as nothing when compared with the importance of the moment. The Brahmans, with loads of sweetmeats on their backs and with money in their unknown (sic) pockets, go home cheerfully and thankfully. They do not fail to get many cows in addition, andsome fortunate few even receive at the hands of the Rajahs, and other big men, presents of villages or of elephants, which are returned for a paltry sum on the following day. Maharajah Narendra Singh of Patiala is said to have gone the length of parting with one of his wives on a similar occasion and, when on being asked to name her price, theparohitseemed willing to accept a lakh of rupees, the Rani was very angry with him for demanding such a low sum in return for the wife of such a wealthy Rajah.”[112]
The writer of the above curious passage seems strangely unconscious of the real significance of the facts he records, and apparently finds nothing to condemn in the vain display of ostentatious liberality, masking actual meanness, to which he refers, and which is especially noteworthy as supplying a probable standard by which to measure the overpowering munificence of many personages who figure in the Indian epics. This, too, is not mere conjecture. We have a similar instance in the case of King Dasahratha, referred to at p. 20.
Although the attractions of Kurukshetra are greatest on the occasion of eclipses, a tiny stream of visitors to the shrines trickles through Thanesar all the year round. Of their visits particular note is taken by the Brahmans, who keep a record of the names and family connections of the several visitors. On the arrival of a pilgrim the Brahmans inquire his name, caste andgotra, his native place, his place of residence, and the objects of his visit. With these facts in their possession some one amongst them is almost sure to be able to produce the record of the visit to Thanesar, at some previous time, of some relative of the pilgrim. When the Brahman has established this, from one of his books, he thereby becomes the family priest,protempore, and the privileged guide of the new arrival, out of whom he makes as much money as he can. I shall not readily forget how the Babu, who kindly accompanied me, was pounced upon by the priests; how by the light of a flickering lamp he had read out to him all about the visits which had been paid to Thanesar by his relatives; and how, having come to the sacred land, he could not well leave it until, even in the pitiless December rain, he had to enter a sacred tank and take sundry dips under the water, while the Brahman, standing on the bank in the shelter of some trees, repeated themantraswhich gave, as it were, the approval of the church to this pilgrimage of his to Brahmavarta.