CHAPTER VII.

ON PILGRIMAGE.

THE next day Bandhu started alone for the place at which he was to join the band of pilgrims. He took nothing with him but a small brass vessel for drinking, his hookah, some ready-cooked food, and his black bag of Ignorance tied round his neck. Since his last conversation with Prem Chand a little curiosity as to the contents of the bag, the mirror, and the bracelet, which by feeling he ascertained to be there, had arisen in the mind of Bandhu; but his brain was so much weakened by Superstition that he had not the courage to take his own property out of the covering of Ignorance in which Farebwala had wrapped it.

"Who knows what might happen if I did but glance into the mirror?" thought Bandhu. "And I should be afraid to put on the bracelet lest its pinching should destroy all my ease. It is pleasanter sometimes not to know when danger is near."

There are in the world many Superstition-drugged men and women, who are as cowardly and foolish as Bandhu. They are afraid of self-knowledge; they dread that opening of their blind eyes which will bring humility and wisdom.

Bandhu, when the time for mid-day rest had come, had reached a small mango-tope (grove) under the shade of which he found two men. From their appearance, he guessed them to be Chhatris, though they were no more Chhatris than he was.

The elder was still a vigorous man, though his hair was turning grey with age. An expression of great cunning marked his features. The other man was his son, and yet in the prime of life, but his face was bloated and his eyes were sunken with self-indulgence, so that he looked almost as old as his father. The name of the elder was Idolatry, that of his son was Vice.

These two sat smoking their hookahs, and Bandhu, who was tired of being alone, very willingly joined them.

The men received him with great politeness, and the three were presently chatting together as if they had been old friends. Bandhu, in reply to a question, informed the strangers whither he was going.

"We are bound thither also," said the elderly man, "to do puja at the holy place, bathe, and make our offerings. Let us all travel together."

"I desire nothing better," replied Bandhu, "it suits not my taste to travel alone."

"Besides there might be danger," suggested the younger man. "In these lonely parts there is no saying whom one might meet."

"Perhaps Dacoits or Thugs," * said the timorous Bandhu, and intuitively, he laid his hand on his bag.

* Dacoits are a kind of highwaymen who rob in gangs. Thugs were a set of professional murderers, who strangled unsuspecting travellers, under the supposed sanction of one of their demon-like goddesses. The following description of these murderers is extracted from the work of Ishuree Dás, before quoted:—

"Thousands of these Thugs have been exterminated by the British Government, but there are some still found here and there. These Thugs will follow a traveller for days until they get an opportunity to kill him. Once a traveller, who was known to have some money with him, was followed by Thugs for more than two hundred and sixty miles; the farmer was wide-awake, and was always on his guard, never smoking their tobacco, nor being familiar with them. At last he got near home, though the Thugs did not know that; and while all were sitting in a bunniah's shop in the forenoon to get some refreshment, the man pretended to go out for a few minutes, of course with his things; but he crossed a few fields, and safely arrived at home.

"Once a woman with her little boy and some money and jewels was pursued for some time by two women who were Thuggins. They pretended to be travellers, and always remained in company with this woman, who used to give them now and then part of her food, as dál and cakes and rice. It was observed by the boy that they ate the cake or rice that was given them, but dál (which has salt put in it at the time of being cooked) was always thrown away. He suspected they were Thuggins, and said so to his mother.

"The dál they threw away, because they believed it would be a great sin to kill a person whose salt they had eaten. In the saráes or inns the woman used to take a separate room from the Thuggins. Once the latter thought that they had an opportunity to despatch the woman, and in the darkness of the night, one of them took a dagger and softly stole towards her; but the woman got hold of it and the Thuggin, and cried out. People instantly came to her help and secured the Thuggin."

"What is in that bag?" asked the old man with curiosity.

"A wondrous mirror, as I have heard, and a jewelled bracelet," replied the incautious lad.

The two men exchanged glances with each other, but the dull-witted Bandhu never noticed the look.

For some hours these three rested in the mango-tope. The two men slept, or appeared to sleep, but the eyes of Bandhu did not close. He could not help thinking over the words which he had heard from Prem Chand.

After a while his companions raised their heads, and seating themselves on the grass, again resumed their hookahs.

"The heat is not now so great; shall we proceed on our journey?" said Bandhu, who from some undefined misgiving wished to join the larger band of pilgrims without much delay.

Idolatry, however, objected to starting at once, on the score of some evil omens that had shown him that the day was unlucky. "We shall proceed to-morrow, before daylight," he said.

Bandhu, having been drugged by Superstition, very much feared unlucky days, and was easily persuaded to stop with his new companions.

Many a tale was told to beguile the time, the supposed Chhatris were adepts in telling stories. Idolatry recounted much of the history of his own family, which to any one who had not drunk of the poison of Superstition would have appeared very horrible indeed. Many a widow in that family had been burnt alive on the funeral pile. Idolatry delighted in giving the details, and telling of the courage and devotion of the women, but he told not how many had been stupefied by bang, or how many had been really, but secretly, kept from springing from their bed of flames, by long bamboos held down by the Brahmins. Stories of shrieking babes flung by their own mothers into rivers, of poor wretches crushed beneath the ponderous wheels of an idol-car, in the vain hope of saving their souls by destroying their bodies, in tales such as these Idolatry delighted.

And his besotted hearer actually expressed approval, actually wished that he had been present when such monstrous crimes were committed! Oxen and buffaloes would have taken no delight in beholding such murders, but Superstition had sunk Bandhu to slower level than that of the brutes!

Then Vice, child of Idolatry, told his stories; but at their nature I will not even hint. Had not Bandhu been utterly debased by the drug given by Farebwala, he would have closed his ears with his hands, or quitted the place in disgust. Reader! Have your ears ever drunk in such stories, and have you ever dared to connect them in any way with the sacred name of religion?

At sunset the three pilgrims performed their devotions, and Bandhu particularly noticed how careful were his companions to perform theirs in the most orthodox way, with ablutions and many repetitions of the name of Rám.

"How pious are these Chhatris!" thought he.

The two men made a little fireplace for themselves, and cooked their victuals.

Bandhu had brought his food ready prepared, and as his companions showed that they preferred eating alone, he took his meal a little apart.

Darkness was gathering round, which made the small fire by which the strangers prepared their meal more distinctly visible. The moon had not yet risen. Bandhu, who had been unable to sleep at noon, was just dropping asleep, when he was startled by a light touch on his arm. He was about to call out in his fear, when a low voice beside him whispered, "Silence! If you love your life, be still!"

Bandhu, looking up, in the faint light could just distinguish the form of Prem Chand bending over him.

"Fly, while there yet is time!" continued Prem Chand, in the same low but earnest tone. "Yonder men, whose names are Idolatry and Vice, are well-known Thugs."

Bandhu started, and a cold perspiration broke over him at the dreaded word.

But Bandhu's terror was not sufficient to give him wisdom. He was determined to put faith in no warning uttered by the messenger of the king. As he had said in the garden-house before, so he said now, "I do not believe one word of what you tell me!"

"Oh, most unhappy, deluded boy! How can I save you in spite of yourself!" exclaimed Prem Chand. In his exceeding anxiety to preserve the life of the youth, he made an attempt by seizing his arm, to force Bandhu to rise from the ground.

This roused the lad's anger; wrenching himself from Prem Chand's hold, Bandhu struck him twice in the face, then catching up a stone, he exclaimed as he threatened to fling it, "Oh dog! Will nothing short of stoning drive you away?"

"Vainly warned and doomed one!" cried Prem Chand. "For the third time I leave you! Your blood is not on my soul!" And again with a heavy heart and deep sigh the messenger left the wretched victim whom he had vainly endeavoured to save.

Reader! Has ever such sorrow been felt, such sighs been breathed for you? Have you been warned against Idolatry and Vice, and given no heed to warning?

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