There is nothing which strikes a European more in travelling over the great roads in India than the vast number of pilgrims of all kinds which he falls in with, particularly between the end of November [sic], when all the autumn harvest has been gathered, and the seed of the spring crops has been in the ground.

They consist for the most part of persons, male and female, carrying Ganges water from the point at Hardwār, where the sacred stream emerges from the hills, to the different temples in all parts of India, dedicated to the gods Vishnu and Siva. There the water is thrown upon the stones which represent the gods, and when it falls upon these stones it is called 'Chandamirt', or holy water, and is frequently collected and reserved to be drunk as a remedy 'for a mind diseased'[1]

This water is carried in small bottles, bearing the seals of the presiding priest at the holy place whence it was brought. The bottles are contained in covered baskets, fixed to the ends of a pole, which is carried across the shoulder. The people who carry it are of three kinds—those who carry it for themselves as a votive offering to some shrine; those who are hired for the purpose by others as salaried servants; and, thirdly, those who carry it for sale.

In the interval between the sowing and reaping of the spring crops, that is, between November and March, a very large portion of the Hindoo landholders and cultivators of India devote their leisure to this pious duty. They take their baskets and poles with them from home, or purchase them on the road; and having poured their libations on the head of the god, and made him acquainted with their wants and wishes, return home.

From November to March three-fourths of the number of these people one meets consist of this class. At other seasons more than three-fourths consist of the other two classes—of persons hired for the purpose as servants, and those who carry the water for sale.

One morning the old Jemadār, the marriage of whose mango- grove with the jasmine I have already described,[2] brought his two sons and a nephew to pay their respects to me on their return to Jubbulpore from a pilgrimage to Jagannāth.[3]

The sickness of the youngest, a nice boy of about six years of age, had caused this pilgrimage. The eldest son was about twenty years of age, and the nephew about eighteen.

After the usual compliments, I addressed the eldest son: 'And so your brother was really very ill when you set out?'

'Very ill, sir; hardly able to stand without assistance.'

'What was the matter with him?'

'It was what we call a drying-up, or withering of the System.'

'What were the symptoms?'

'Dysentery.'

'Good; and what cured him, as he now seems quite well?'

'Our mother and father vowed five pair of baskets of Ganges water to Gajādhar, an incarnation of the god Siva, at the temple of Baijnāth, and a visit to the temple of Jagannāth.'

'And having fulfilled these vows, your brother recovered?'

'He had quite recovered, sir, before we had set out on our return from Jagannāth.'

'And who carried the baskets?'

'My mother, wife, cousin, myself, and little brother, all carried one pair each.'

'This little boy could not surely carry a pair of baskets all the way?'

'No, sir, we had a pair of small baskets made especially for him; and when within about three miles of the temple he got down from his little pony, took up his baskets, and carried them to the god. Up to within three miles of the temple the baskets were carried by a Brahman servant, whom we had taken with us to cook our food.

'We had with us another Brahman, to whom we had to pay only a trifle, as his principal wages were made up of fees from families in the town of Jubbulpore, who had made similar vows, and gave him so much a bottle for the water he carried in their several names to the god.'

'Did you give all your water to the Baijnāth temple, or carry some with you to Jagannāth?'

'No water is ever offered to Jagannāth, sir; he is an incarnation of Vishnu.'[4]

'And does Vishnu never drink?'

'He drinks, sir, no doubt; but he gets nothing but offerings of food and money.'

'From this to Bindāchal on the Ganges, two hundred and thirty miles; thence to Baijnāth, a hundred and fifty miles; and thence to Jagannāth, some four or five hundred miles more.'[5]

'And your mother and wife walked all the way with their baskets?'

'All the way, sir, except when either of them got sick, when she mounted the pony with my little brother till she felt well again.'

Here were four members of a respectable family walking a pilgrimage of between twelve and fourteen hundred miles, going and coming, and carrying burthens on their shoulders for the recovery of the poor sick boy; and millions of families are every year doing the same from all parts of India.

The change of air, and exercise, cured the boy, and no doubt did them all a great deal of good; but no physician in the world but a religions one could have persuaded them to undertake such a journey for the same purpose.

The rest of the pilgrims we meet are for the most part of the two monastic orders of Gosāins, or the followers of Siva, and Bairāgīs, or followers of Vishnu, and Muhammadan Fakīrs. A Hindoo of any caste may become a member of these monastic orders. They are all disciples of the high priests of the temples of their respective gods; and in their name they wander all over India, visiting the celebrated temples which are dedicated to them.

A part of the revenues of these temples is devoted to subsisting these disciples as they pass; and every one of them claims the right of a day's food and lodging, or more, according to the rules of the temple. They make collections along the roads; and when they return, commonly bring back some surplus as an offering to their apostle, the high priest who has adopted them.

Almost every high priest has a good many such disciples, as they are not costly; and from their returning occasionally, and from the disciples of others passing, these high priests learn everything of importance that is going on over India, and are well acquainted with the state of feeling and opinion.

What these disciples get from secular people is given not only from feelings of charity and compassion, but as a religions or propitiatory offering: for they are all considered to be armed by their apostle with a vicarious power of blessing or cursing; and as being in themselves men of God whom it might be dangerous to displease.

They never condescend to feign disease or misery in order to excite feelings of compassion, but demand what they want with a bold front, as holy men who have a right to share liberally in the superfluities which God has given to the rest of the Hindoo community. They are in general exceedingly intelligent men of the world, and very communicative.

Among them will be found members of all classes of Hindoo society, and of the most wealthy and respectable families.[6] While I had charge of the Narsinghpur district in 1822 a Bairāgī, or follower of Vishnu, came and settled himself down on the border of a village near my residence. His mild and paternal deportment pleased all the little community so much that they carried him every day more food than he required.

At last, the proprietor of the village, a very respectable old gentleman, to whom I was much attached, went out with all his family to ask a blessing of the holy man. As they sat down before him, the tears were seen stealing down his cheeks as he looked upon the old man's younger sons and daughters.

At last, the old man's wife burst into tears, ran up, and fell upon the holy man's neck, exclaiming, 'My lost son, my lost son!'

He was indeed her eldest son. He had disappeared suddenly twelve years before, became a disciple of the high priest of a distant temple, and visited almost every celebrated temple in India, from Kedārnāth in the eternal snows to Sītā Baldī Rāmesar, opposite the island of Ceylon.[7]

He remained with the family for nearly a year, delighting them and all the country around with his narratives. At last, he seemed to lose his spirits, his usual rest and appetite; and one night he again disappeared. He had been absent for some years when I last saw the family, and I know not whether he ever returned.

The real members of these monastic orders are not generally bad men; but there are a great many men of all kinds who put on their disguises, and under their cloak commit all kinds of atrocities.[8]

The security and convenience which the real pilgrims enjoy upon our roads, and the entire freedom from all taxation, both upon these roads and at the different temples they visit, tend greatly to attach them to our rule, and through that attachment, a tone of good feeling towards it is generally disseminated over all India.

They come from the native states, and become acquainted with the superior advantages the people under us enjoy, in the greater security of property, the greater freedom with which it is enjoyed and displayed; the greater exemption from taxation, and the odious right of search which it involves, the greater facilities for travelling in good roads and bridges; the greater respectability and integrity of public servants, arising from the greater security in their tenure of office and more adequate rate of avowed salaries; the entire freedom of the navigation of our great rivers, on which thousands and tens of thousands of laden vessels now pass from one end to the other without any one to question whence they come or whither they go.

These are tangible proofs of good government, which all can appreciate; and as the European gentleman, in his rambles along the great roads, passes the lines of pilgrims with which the roads are crowded during the cold season, he is sure to hear himself hailed with grateful shouts, as one of those who secured for them and the people generally all the blessings they now enjoy.[9]

One day my sporting friend, the Rājā of Maihar, told me that he had been purchasing some water from the Ganges at its source, to wash the image of Vishnu which stood in one of his temples.[10] I asked him whether he ever drank the water after the image had been washed in it.

'Yes,' said he, 'we all occasionally drink the "chandamirt".'

'And do you in the same manner drink the water in which the god Siva has been washed?'

'Never,' said the Rājā.

'And why not?'

'Because his wife, Devī, one day in a domestic quarrel cursed him and said, "The water which falls from thy head shall no man henceforward drink." From that day', said the Rājā, 'no man has ever drunk of the water that washes his image, lest Devī should punish him.'

'And how is it, then, Rājā Sahib, that mankind continue to drink the water of the Ganges, which is supposed to flow from her husband Siva's top-knot?'

'Because', replied the Rājā, 'this sacred river first flows from the right foot of the god Vishnu, and thence passes over the head of Siva. The three gods', continued the Rājā, 'govern the world turn and turn about, twenty years at a time. While Vishnu reigns, all goes on well; rain descends in good season, the harvests are abundant, and the cattle thrive.

'When Brahma reigns, there is little falling off in these matters; but during the twenty years that Siva reigns, nothing goes on well—we are all at cross purposes, our crops fail, our cattle get the murrain, and mankind suffer from epidemic diseases.'

The Rājā was a follower of Vishnu, as may be guessed.

Notes:

1. Tavernier notes that Ganges water is often given at weddings, 'each guest receiving a cup or two, according to the liberality of the host'. 'There is sometimes', he says, '2,000 or 3,000 rupees' worth of it consumed at a wedding.' (Tavernier, Travels, ed. Ball, vol. ii, pp. 231, 254.)

2. Ante, Chapter 5, [3].

3. Jagannāth (corruptly Juggernaut, &c.), or Purī, on the coast of Orissa, probably is the most venerated shrine in India. The principal deity there worshipped is a form of Vishnu.

4. Water may not be offered to Jagannāth, but the facts stated in this chapter show that it is offered in other temples of Vishnu.

5. Bindāchal is in the Mirzāpur district of the United Provinces. Baijnāth is in the Santāl Parganas District of the Bhāgalpur Division in the province of Bihār and Orissa.

The group of temples at Deogarh dedicated to Siva is visited by pilgrims from all parts of India. The principal temple is called Baijnāth or Baidyanāth. Deogarh is a small town in the Santāl Parganas (I.G., 1908, s.v. Deogarh; A.S.R., vol. viii (1878), pp. 137-45, Pl. ix, x; vol. xix (1885), pp. 29-35 (crude notes), Pl. x, xi).

6. Pandit Sāligrām, who was Postmaster-General of the North-Western Provinces some years ago, became one of these wandering friars, and other similar cases are recorded.

7. Seet Buldee Ramesur in original edition. The temple alluded to is that called Rāmesvaram (Ramisseram) in the small island of Pāmban at the entrance of Palk's Passage in the Straits of Manaar, which is distinguished by its magnificent colonnade and corridors. (Fergusson, Hist. Ind. and Eastern Arch., vol. i, pp. 380-3, ed. 1910.)

The island forms part of the so-called Adam's Bridge, a reef of comparatively recent formation, which almost joins Ceylon with the mainland. A railway now runs along the 'bridge', and the pilgrims have an easy task.

The Kedārnāth temple is in the Himalayan District of Garhwāl (United Provinces), at an elevation of nearly 12,000 feet.

8. The author's other works show that the Thugs frequently assumed the guise of ascetics, and much of the secret crime of India is known to be committed by men who adopt the garb of holiness. A man disguised as a fakīr is often sent on by dacoits (gang- robbers) as a spy and decoy.

'Three-fourths of these religions mendicants, whether Hindoos or Muhammadans, rob and steal, and a very great portion of them murder their victims before they rob them; but they have not any of them as a class been found to follow the trade of murder so exclusively as to be brought properly within the scope of our operations. . . .

'There is hardly any species of crime that is not throughout India perpetrated by men in the disguise of these religious mendicants; and almost all such mendicants are really men in disguise; for Hindoos of any caste can become Bairāgīs and Gosāins; and Muhammadans of any grade can become Fakīrs.' (A Report on the System of Megpunnaism, 1839, p. 11.)

In the same little work the author advises the compulsory registration of 'every disciple belonging to every high priest, whether Hindoo or Muhammadan', and a stringent Vagrant Act. His suggestions have not been acted on.

9. This incident still happens occasionally.

10. For the Rājā, see ante, chapter 20, [6].