Tara: A Mahratta Tale

by Meadows Taylor

  CHAPTER III.

  The Poorans relate that the goddess Doorga, Kalee, or Bhowani, the wifeof Siva, once slew a frightful giant named Muhesha, having the head ofa wild buffalo, to the great relief of the people who suffered from itsexistence; and Hindus generally believe that this event took place atTooljapoor in the Dekhan. Toolja is another name for Bhowani or Kalee,and hence Tooljapoor--the city of Toolja. After the monster was slain,and the presence of the goddess was no longer required on earth, sheleft the form she had appeared in as witness of what had been done,changed it to stone, and it was in after years discovered in the ravinewhere the monster had been slain.

  The image still remains where it is alleged to have been first found,and where certain miraculous indications of its presence were made.A temple was built over it, and a town gradually gathered round thetemple, which became famous throughout India, and is frequented bypilgrims from all quarters. It is now the idol worshipped there, and isa figure of black marble, or perhaps basalt, highly polished, small,but of elegant proportions, with features of the pure Hindu type. Theeyes are composed of large uncut rubies; and, as the image stands uponits altar, clothed in a woman's garment, in the small dark sanctum ofthe temple, they have always a strange, weird, and, to the worshippers,a fascinating appearance, glittering through the gloom, and smoke oflamps and incense always burning.

  The temple is a very picturesque object, from its situation ina deep glen, the bottom of which is nearly filled by it. Piousworshippers, and votaries from time to time, have enriched it bybuildings and courts surrounded by cloisters, ascending one abovethe other, connected by flights of steps: and in these courts areseveral cisterns, filled from springs in the sides of the hill. Oneof them, peculiarly sacred, as believed to come from the Ganges,gushes from a cow's mouth carved in the rock, and enters a large basinand reservoir: and in all these cisterns pilgrims to the shrine,both male and female, must bathe before they can worship the image.Crowded by these pilgrims from all parts of India, of various coloursand physiognomies, languages and costumes, men and women,--bathing,ascending or descending the broad flights of steps, pouring into thelower courts in dense throngs, chanting mystic adorations, and singinghymns in different languages and accents; it is impossible to conceivea more picturesque or exciting scene than they present on occasions ofparticular festivals, or, in general, on the day of the full moon ofevery month.

  The town of Tooljapoor adjoins the temple walls on three sides, andascends from them--the terraced houses clinging, as it were, to ledgesof the rugged glen--on the north and south. On the east, the ascent ismore regular; and the principal street slopes from the crest of thetableland down to the first flight of steps leading to the first court,and thence down successive flights of steps, through other courts, tothe lowest, which is the largest, and in which stands the principalshrine, surrounded by cloisters and other buildings. Large tamarind,peepul, and other trees, have grown accidentally among the cliffsaround, or have been planted in the courts, and have flourished kindly,affording grateful shade; so the result, in the mingling of foliage andbuildings of many styles in the temple--surrounded by the rugged sidesof the ravine, occasionally precipitous:--and the terraced houses,temples, and other buildings of the town above them--is remarkablypicturesque, and even beautiful.

  The temple ravine opens into another of large dimensions, which, in theform of an irregular semicircle, is perhaps a mile long by nearly halfof a mile at the broadest part of the diameter, narrowing to its mouth.It is called the Ram Durra, and opens gradually beyond the hills,upon one of the great undulating plains of the Dekhan. To the north,the large ravine presents the appearance of an amphitheatre withprecipitous sides, from which, in rainy weather, a number of small butlofty cascades descend from the tableland above, and form the head of asmall river which eventually falls into the Bheema.

  The hills which bound the ravine are about four hundred feet high,and are, in fact, the edge of a very extensive plateau called theBala Ghaut, which extends nearly a hundred miles, with only a slightdescent, towards the east; and, after ascending to the town ofTooljapoor from the ravine, a flat plain is reached, on which thegreater portion of the town stands. One promontory of the entrance ofthe great ravine juts out past and bounds the temple on the left orsouth side, and along its face is the road by which the ascent is madefrom the plain below. The hill then turns round sharp to the east, withprecipitous sides, leaving a level plain of a few hundred yards inwidth between the town and the declivity.

  On the edge of this precipitous side, to the south, are two othertemples, also holy. One, a tall octagon building, now covers the rockon which the goddess is stated to have alighted from heaven when shecame to engage the monster who lived in the adjoining ravine; and theother, a little further on, and much more ancient, is situated at, andencloses the head of a spring which fills a cistern, as it tricklesdown the precipice at all seasons of the year. This is also a sacredplace, and is called "Pap-nas," or "the sin destroyer;" and the legendsays that the goddess bathed in this spring, and washed the monster'sblood from her hands, after she had slain him; so it is held sacred.

  Truly the whole corner of the plateau is very beautiful. The quaintold town hanging literally on the mountain edge: the deep gloomyravine of the temple opening out to the larger one: the precipicesand rugged hills to the west and north, and the beautiful undulatingplain to the south, over which the eye wanders as over a map for fiftymiles or more, checkered with thriving villages and their rich fieldsand gardens,--form a striking assemblage of objects. But the interestcentres in the temple itself, with its gilded spires and picturesquegroups of buildings, as well as its strange effect in the position inwhich it has been placed, attesting, no doubt, in the opinion of thepeople--if there were any question on the subject, the truth of thelegend.

  It will be understood from the foregoing, that the town is situatedconsiderably above the temple, and part of it on the level ground ofthe plateau or plain. The Shastree's house was on the edge of the crestof the ground, looking to the south over the ravine of the temple,the cliffs, and a portion of the town beyond, across the small plainwhich lay between the edge of the temple ravine and the precipitousside of the mountain, and thence over the plain which, in the fardistance, mingled with the sky. To the south-east the line of hillswas rugged and broken, descending by steep spurs into the lower plain;but from its edge, all round to the north, the eye followed a fair,rich country, sloping eastwards, covered with grain-fields, throughwhich the small river Boree, here only a brook, pursued a quiet courseamong the town gardens. Again, to the north and west, looking into andacross the large wild ravine, were the precipices of the Ram Durra, andthe rugged basalt hills beyond them. So, wherever you turned, it was afair or wild scene alternately; and standing upon the terrace of theShastree's house, or sitting in a small chamber which had been builtover one of the corner rooms, you could see all that has been told; andvery beautiful it was.

  The Shastree had travelled in his pilgrimages all over India. He hadseen wilder and grander scenes perhaps, but none pleasanter to livein, than this cool, breezy, healthful mountain town, enhanced by thepresence of one of the holiest shrines in the country. Here he mustbear his misfortune calmly; and though his necessity urged the changewe have alluded to, he never issued from his door and looked over thefair prospect about him, or performed the sacrificial ceremonies atthe temple, without being strengthened in his desire to live and diehere; and therefore the struggle in regard to his daughter was the morebitter.

  That morning he had risen unrefreshed--his sleep had been restless.Something in one of the books he had been explaining to Tara in theevening had brought up the subject of widowhood and its consequencesand obligations, and the message of his spiritual prince had beendiscussed with much grief and misery to all. There seemed to be noevasion of them possible--the rites must be fulfilled; and he hadagain spoken of Benares, and Tara had simply and meekly given herselfinto his hands, and prostrated herself before him and her mother insubmission.
She was no doubt excited; and her first communication inthe morning startled him exceedingly.

  You, O Christian reader! must not try his feelings by your ownstandard. You live under a holier and simpler faith. If in the ordinaryoccurrences of life, and its joys and sorrows, there is littledifference between you, it is very different in regard to faith. Youhave but one object of calm, loving, trustful, humble adoration. He,as all educated Hindus, believed in the same one God, but it wasoverlaid by a gorgeous and picturesque mythology, and two distinctionsof--as he believed them to be--heavenly beings, to whom separately andcollectively worship was due, and yet whose interests and designs wereso different and apparently irreconcilable.

  His household faith was for the most part a pure theism; butcircumstances arising out of hereditary rights had placed him at thehead of the local worship of the dread goddess, whom, either lovinglyor in deprecation of her possible wrath, he worshipped daily. Butthe worship of Doorga or Bhowani, as the wife of the creating andpreserving power in her beneficence, and of the same power in herdestroying aspect--in her wrath terrible and unrelenting--is perhapsmore fascinating to women than to men; and, alternating with bothaspects, a woman, in all moods and in all necessities, may mostnaturally perhaps apply to another woman, in whose power she believes,for sympathy and assistance. Has it not ever been so? Greek, Roman,Egyptian, Indian--nay, even Christian?

  Nevertheless the Shastree believed, not lovingly perhaps, but indeprecation of wrath; while his wife and daughter, unable to followthe mystically subtle metaphysical creeds of the Veds and Shastras,saw in their goddess enough to fill their hearts with practical faithin, and reliance upon, her power over their destinies. To her, bothhad addressed their vows and daily supplications, very simply andearnestly, for this devotion of their lives to her was all they couldgive, if their prayers were granted.

  What wonder, then, that Tara's vision agitated him? The Shastree knewof many women on whom the spirit of the goddess in divine afflatus haddescended. They were possessed by her: they spoke and prophesied whenthey were full of her presence: and he dreaded them while he worshippedthe power displayed. As Tara told him her dream, and the service thegoddess had asked, could it be real? Could his daughter, as an inspiredpriestess, ever speak before the image? That, however, must be triedwithout delay, and he hastened more rapidly than usual to the temple,having bid her follow when her mother was ready.

  He arrived as the ceremonies of bathing and dressing the image werebeing performed by the inferior priesthood, and, these concluded,the morning service began. We need not detail it--the decking of thealtar with flowers, the marking the forehead of the image with thesacred colours, the offerings of daily food and sacred elements withflowers, and the singing of mystic hymns. Vyas Shastree was speedilyjoined by other Brahmuns and priests, and bare-headed, naked to thewaist, carrying the sacred fire and sacrificial offerings, and chantinghymns with the accompaniment of clashing cymbals and lutes. Thus theprocession was passing round and round the temple, and the simple butstrange melody rising and falling amidst the buildings, trees, andcliffs, and filling the ravine with sound, as Tara and her mothergained the outer gate, and began to descend the steps which led to thelower court.

  Ordinarily they did not bathe in the sacred cistern where, fromthe carved stone cow's mouth, the stream of the holy spring gushedsparkling into the basin; but Tara paused as they passed it. She hadfelt more and more excited as she neared the temple, and the melody ofthe hymn and the clashing of the cymbals, as they came up togetherthrough the trees in the still air, had added to the effect alreadyproduced in her mind by her dream.

  "Mother," she said, hesitatingly--"mother, ought I not to bathe here?Can I go into the presence, even with these garments on me, after whatthe Holy Mother said last night? They should be wet and pure."

  "It is too cold for thee, my child," replied Anunda. "Come, Tara, comeon; the hymn will be finished ere we can join--come."

  "No, mother, I am hot--burning; something urges me to the well, and Icannot resist it. Mother, I must be pure before the shrine. May I go?"

  "The spirit of the goddess is with her, truly," thought her mother."Go, Tara, it may refresh thee," she said; "and there are dry clothesin the temple. Go, be quick, my child!"

  The girl descended the steps into the basin, and, turning to the east,poured libations from her hands to the four quarters of the earth;then the three libations to the sun, saying a short hymn from theVeda. Then followed her prayer to the goddess. "Holy Mother, do whatthou wilt with me; take me, leave me, or use me as thou wilt, but donot cast me away! Behold, I come!" Then she stepped forth from thebasin, her silk garment clinging to her sweet form, and revealing itsperfect proportions more than the innate modesty of her mind permitted;hastily, therefore, she shook it free from her limbs, while her motherwrung the water from the ends.

  "I am ready now," she said, simply; "come, mother, I will go to herpure, and sit before her. If she wants Tara she will speak. Come!"

  Her mother had observed her glistening eye and glowing cheek, whicheven the chill of the water did not subdue, and seeing the expressionof her face, as she ascended from the basin, was changed from itshabitual sadness to one of excited triumph, she caught the infectionherself, and seized Tara by the hand. "Come," she cried, "Jey Kalee,""Victory to Kalee!" And so they descended the steps more rapidly, whilethe music of the hymn and the clash of the deep-toned cymbals resoundedthrough the lower court, and seemed to be echoed and repeated in thecliffs and buildings above and around them.

  The procession of Brahmuns and priests was turning the corner of thetemple as Tara and her mother met it in the full swell of the music.Usually the girl and her mother fell in behind, reverentially andcalmly, and followed it as it passed round. Now, however, the Shastreeand his companions were amazed to see Tara separate herself from hermother, and put herself at the head of the party, toss her arms intothe air, and join in the hymn they were singing--leading them on morerapidly than they had moved before. The Shastree marked that she hadbathed, and that her wet garments dripped as she went along. "She ispure," he thought; "she has prepared herself, and if the goddess willtake her, it is her will. There is something in this that cannot bestayed."

  The other Brahmuns stopped, still chanting, and looked to Vyas Shastreewith wonder for some explanation, which was as quickly given. "Thegoddess spoke to her last night, and will not be repelled," he said."Go on, do not stop her; let her do as she lists."

  No one dared stop her, or touch Tara. The height of excitement, or,as they thought, inspiration, was in her eye, and that sweet face waslifted up with a holy rapture. She seemed to fly rather than to walk,so completely had her feelings carried her forward; and as she movedshe looked behind to those following, still chanting with them, herarms waved above her head, and beckoning them onwards. They could notresist the influence. So they passed on, round and round the temple,still singing. Other morning worshippers, attracted by the strangesight, joined them, or stood by wondering till the hymn was finished.Then Tara, noticing no one, entered the porch of the temple rapidly,and advancing alone, knelt down before the door of the inner shrine infront of the image, and they watched her silently.

  What did she see to cause that earnest look? The image was familiarto all. The light of the lamps within shone out strongly on thekneeling figure, shrouded in its wet clinging drapery, but hardlyilluminated the gloomy space in the deep outer vestibule, around whichthe spectators arranged themselves reverentially. The ruby eyes ofthe goddess glittered with a weird brilliance from among the cloud ofincense burning before her; and the fragrant smoke, issuing from thedoor, wreathed itself about her form and ascended to the roof, and hungabout the pillars of the room.

  Those looking on almost expected the image would move, or speak, ingreeting or in reprehension of the young votary, and the silence wasbecoming almost oppressive when the girl's lips moved: "Mother," shecried, in her low musical voice--"Mother! O Holy Mother! Tara is herebefore thee. What wouldst thou of her?" And she
leant forward, swingingher body to and fro restlessly, and stretching forth her hands."Mother, take me or leave me, but do not cast me away!" She could onlyrepeat this simple prayer, for the yearning at her heart could find noother words; but her bosom heaved as though it would burst the bodice,and her hands and arms, with her whole frame, trembled violently.

  "She is possessed, brother," said another priest to her father. "Whathath come to her? When did this happen?"

  "Peace," said the father, in a hoarse whisper; "disturb her not: letwhat will happen, even if she die. She is in hands more powerful thanours, and we are helpless. O Tara, my child! my child!"

  "Mother, dost thou hear? I will do thy bidding," again murmured thegirl. "Come, come! as thou wast in my dream. So come to Tara! Ah, yes,she comes to me! Yes, Holy Mother, I am with thee;" and, stretchingforth her arms, she sank down on her face, shuddering.

  "She is dying; my child! my pearl!" cried her mother, frantically, whohad been with difficulty restrained and who rushed forward. "Will noneof ye help?"

  "Touch her not, Anunda," exclaimed her husband, holding her back; "thisbrooks no interference. Let her lie and do as the Mother would wishher; this will pass away." So they gathered round Tara and watchedher. She was tranquil now, not shuddering: the fair round arms werestretched out towards the shrine, and the light fell on the rippledglossy hair, which had escaped from the knot behind, and hung over herface and neck, shrouding them in its heavy waves.

  "Let us chant the hymn to the praise of Doorga," said the old Punditwho had before spoken; "brothers, this is no ordinary occurrence. Manycome and feign the divine afflatus, but there hath been nothing sostrange as this in my memory;" and, striking a few chords on the vinahe held in his hand, the hymn--a strange wild cadence--was begun. Thesound filled the vaulted chamber, and was taken up by those outside,who crowded the entrance. Still she moved not, but lay tranquilly;the full chorus of the men's voices and the clashing of the cymbalswere not apparently heeded by her. As it died away, there was afaint movement of the arms, and gradually she raised herself to herknees, tossed back the hair from her face and neck, which fell overher shoulders and back, and looked around her wildly for a moment;then, seeing her mother, she leaned towards her as she advanced, and,stretching forth her arms and clasping her knees, hid her face in hergarment, and sobbed convulsively.

  "My child, I am here; I am with thee," said Anunda, supporting her, andherself sobbing hysterically. "Speak! what is it? What hast thou seen?My daughter, my sweet one, O speak to us!"

  "Water, mother, water! my throat is parched! I cannot speak. Is shegone?"

  "Who, Tara?"

  "The Holy Mother; she was with me--she entered into me. O mother, whatcan I do? Where am I?"

  "Here is water for thee, Tara; drink."

  She tried to do so, but gasped at every attempt; at last she swalloweda little, and was relieved. "She was not angry, mother," she said,smiling. "Did you not hear her speak? What did I answer?"

  "No, my child," said her father; "thou wert silent, and we feared thegoddess had taken thy spirit; but thou livest, and we are grateful."

  Tara turned to her father with an imploring look for silence, andagain, but now calmly, prostrated herself before the image, while thebrilliant ruby eyes seemed, to those who beheld them, to glow stillmore brightly through the smoke of the incense.

  "Holy Mother of the gods," she said, in a low voice of prayer, "I amthy slave. I fear thee no longer. Blessed Mother, I will love thee, whoart kind to Tara.... Here will I live and die with thee according tothy word." Then she arose and continued to him: "Come, father; behold,I am calm now."

  "She is accepted, brethren," said the old priest, turning to theothers; "let us do her honour. With no life for the world, let herwidowhood remain in the Mother's keeping: she has chosen her, let noman gainsay it. Come, daughter, let me mark thee as she would have itdone;" and, entering the shrine, he took several of the garlands fromthe neck of the image, and a small vessel containing water in whichwere the leaves of the sacred Toolsee; dipping his finger into which,he marked her gently on the forehead, sprinkling some on her head, onwhich he placed his hands as he said the incantation which denoted thepresence of the divinity. Then he hung the garlands about her neck, andthe fragrant red powder of the morning sacrifice being handed to him,he drew some gently across her forehead and bade her stand up.

  "Jey Toolja!" "Victory to Toolja!" was shouted by the attendant priestsand worshippers. "Victory to the Holy Mother!" "Victory to her votary!""Let us take her in procession!" "Let us go with her!" cried all around.

  "Ah, no, friends," said the girl, rising modestly; "ye see but a poorhelpless child who was in grief, and whom the Mother has comforted.Leave me! let me go! I would go home. Mother, take me away! Father, dothou come with me!"

  "It may not be, daughter," said the old priest, kindly; "we mustneglect nothing, else it were dangerous for thee and for us. Bringa palkee," he shouted to the attendant priests, "and get the musicready, and flowers too, and offerings for the Pap-nas. Yes, brother,"he continued to her father, "for once I usurp thy office; thou knowestwhat is needed. Come, let us not delay."

  Tara looked imploringly at her father; she would fain have escapedthe public procession if she could. She only wanted now to get homeunperceived, and to hide herself in her chamber. What had she done tobe so honoured--to be so noticed?

  "It must be, my child," he said; "this cannot be begun and abandoned;let not thy heart fail thee, the Holy Mother will be with thee. Come!"

  Tara yielded: she bent reverently before the old priest, and touchedhis feet, then her father's, and going round the Brahmuns assembled shedid the same; last of all her mother's, who was sobbing, yet not insorrow. "Come," she said, "I am ready; do with me as ye list. Ye are myelders, and I obey."

  FOOTNOTE:

  [2] Most Brahmuns perform their early morning worship after bathing incold water, and with their garments still wet.