Tara: A Mahratta Tale
Page 72
CHAPTER LXX.
From a straggling, irregular village, which could hardly be called atown, nestling in a hollow under the mountain of Pertabgurh, a rudepathway, for it was little else, ascended to the fort above. Veryrough, but very lovely, was this road. The forest, or jungle, had beenpartly cleared away from its sides, but noble trees still hung overit, affording grateful shade as it wound round ravines and shouldersof the mountain in gradual but easy ascent; and the huge broad leaf ofthe teak tree, the graceful and feathery bamboo, and other masses ofluxuriant foliage, rich with great creepers now covered with flowers,which hung from tree to tree in graceful festoons, or clung in densemasses about their tops,--presented endless and beautiful combinationswith the bold upper precipices of the mountain itself, and the distantranges behind it. Farther up, as the air grew fresher in the ascent,and you looked down into deep gloomy dells, or abroad over the valley,or up to the rugged sides of the great mountain beyond,--a subtle blueatmosphere appeared to pervade everything; and this, the peculiarcharacteristic of those high tropical regions, seemed to increase indepth of colour,--and, without in reality obscuring the features of thescenery, to soften its rugged outlines, and blend its almost savageelements into harmony.
It has been said of natives of India that they are insensible tobeauties of natural scenery. We admit that Mussulmans to a greatextent are so, but not Hindus, still less Mahrattas, of theseglorious mountains. Their sacred books, their ballads, and recitedplays, abound with beautiful pictures of natural objects; and, livingamong combinations of the most glorious forms in nature, peoplingevery remarkable rock, deep dell, or giant tree with spiritualbeings belonging peculiarly to each, who are worshipped with a rudeveneration,--insensibility to outward impressions and their influenceupon character would be impossible.
So now, at the time we speak of, a numerous company of men on foot wereascending by the pathway already mentioned to the fort, and that lightmerriment prevailed among them which ever accompanies the enjoyment offine scenery and pure mountain air, and excites physical capabilityfor the endurance of the heaviest fatigue. Some ran or leaped, asoccasional level portions of road occurred; others climbed among thecrags and rocks by its side, or, knowing shorter paths to the summit,struck out of the main road, and breasted the steep mountain with afreedom and agility only known to mountaineers.
Keen-eyed, lithe, spare, yet muscular men; low in stature, yet ofextraordinary power of endurance; often heavily armed with longmatchlock, and its accompaniment of powder-horns, bullet-bags, andother accoutrements tied round the waist,--a long, straight, heavytwo-handled sword hanging over the left shoulder, or a smaller curvedsabre fastened into the waist-band, with a dagger or two, and a broadshield at the back--such were Sivaji's Mawullees. Ordinarily unburdenedwith much clothing--a pair of drawers fitting tight below the knee, acoarse handkerchief wound about the head, and a black blanket thrownover all, or crossed over the chest, leaving the arms free, sufficedfor ordinary purposes; on festival days, however, all were clad in aclean suit of coarse cotton cloth, with a gay turban, and scarf roundthe waist, and bunches of wild flowers tucked fantastically into thefolds of their head-dress.
This was a festival day--for their Rajah had ordered a Kutha; and allknew when this took place that it was the prelude to some raid orforay--some distant expedition in which honour and booty were to begained--and when the Mawullees would strike in, hard and fierce, on theunsuspecting Moslems. The "Dhunni," or master, as they called him, hadbeen unaccountably quiet for some time past; but to a man they knew hewas not idle, and throughout that country, as in more remote provinces,the conviction prevailed that something unusual was to happen--somemanifestation of the will of the goddess, whom all feared and mostworshipped. There was nothing apparent or tangible; but expectation andexcitement prevailed nevertheless.
For several days previously, the usual messengers had run from villageto village among the Mawuls or valleys of the ranges near Pertabgurh,giving news of the Kutha. The players had come from Wye, from Sattara,and other towns, and the Rajah's hill-men had been clearing the usualplace of celebration, and were now decorating the royal seat, and stagefor the players, with green boughs and wild flowers. The little townwas already full of people, and others were crowding up the mountain tomake their salutation to their beloved prince who, now seated in hishall of audience, surrounded by a few friends, soldiers, and priests,denied no one the privilege so dearly prized, that of making a "salam"to their Rajah, and receiving one in return.
Up the mountain-side, through the grim gateways, till they emergedupon the irregular plateau at the top, the men poured in a continuousstream. Some singly or in small groups; others in larger companiesheaded by a pair of "gursees," or pipers, one playing a drone, theother a reed flageolet, very strong and shrill in tone, the combinationof which, as well as the wild melodies played, being curiously likebagpipes in effect. Others had with them their village trumpeters;and shrill quivering blasts of their horns, accompanied by the deepmonotonous notes of large tambourine drums, not unfrequently arosetogether or singly from different parts of the ascent, and wereanswered by the Rajah's horn-blowers stationed on the bastions abovethe gates, and elsewhere in the towers above the precipices. The fortwas full of men, for several thousands were assembled in it: sittingin groups, rambling about the walls, or by the side of springs andwells, untying the bundles of cakes which each man had bound to hisback, and making a noonday meal; or proceeding to their chieftain'skitchen, received the daily allowance of meal bread, which was servedout without stint to all comers on those occasions, and of which hugepiles stood on the kitchen floor ready for distribution.
All the morning Sivaji had sat in his humble hall of audience,surrounded by some of his tried friends, and some Brahmun priests andscribes. No gorgeous palace was this, like that at Beejapoor, but abroad shed made by poles fastened together, and thatched with grassand teak-leaves, decorated gracefully and appropriately with leafybranches and wild flowers. At the upper end was the Rajah's seat, alow dais covered with coarse cotton carpets, on which the "guddee" orroyal seat--a velvet pillow covered with gold embroidery, and a seatto match--had been placed temporarily. Below the dais, the leaders oflarge and small parties of men came--saluted--seated themselves byturns, and got up and departed with the usual salutation, but seldomwithout notice; and while other men passed quickly by, the chief had akind word of greeting or reminiscence or salute for every one. Manysaw that his features were clouded with care; but the news from thecapital concerned no one, and the Kutha to come off that night would,they knew, prove the usual prelude of active service.
Seated as he was amidst a crowd of friends and attendants, the MahrattaRajah seemed, in the distance, almost contemptible, from his smallstature and plain, insignificant appearance. Dressed in ordinary whitemuslin, the only ornament he wore was the "jika," or jewel for theturban, which sparkled with valuable diamonds. A light red shawl drawnover his shoulders protected him from the somewhat chill wind, andbefore him lay his terrible sword Bhowani, and the large black shieldof rhinoceros hide which he usually wore. A nearer view, however, gavea different impression. Somewhat dark in complexion, with a prominentnose, broad in the nostril; large, soft eyes, small determined mouthand chin; a thin moustache curled up at the ends, and bushy blackwhiskers shaved on a line with his ear,--formed a countenance at oncehandsome and intelligent: while his slight figure, apparently moreactive than strong, evinced, by its lithe movement even while sitting,a power of endurance which was confirmed by the expression of his face.
No one who had once seen the Maharaja ever forgot him. Though now mildin expression, if not sad, most about him had seen and remembered theface in other and wilder moods of excitement: in war, or in the actualhand-to-hand combats, in which he delighted, and from which he couldwith difficulty be restrained; while the impression that he was anincarnation of divinity, mingled awe with the respect and love whichall bore him.