III.

ROUND ABOUT NASIK.

The Nasik golf course with its many traps for the unwary, the club house with its friendly welcome, the dak bungalow embowered in trees are well known to the golf-loving Bombay resident. But there is another part of Nasik, its river, which is to him an unknown province. Yet pilgrims go there in thousands from all parts of the peninsula. Bones of dead men, who died a hundred leagues away are brought almost daily to be thrown into its waters. On its banks may be seen at any time young Brahmans practising Prayanam or breathing exercise or doing the Achaman rite, that is to say sipping water while repeating the name of some particular deity. There too may sometimes be seen the naked anchorite to whom the whole world stands in lieu of a garment; and he is not the least unhappy. As the Sanskrit verse has it “Courage is his father, Forgiveness is his mother, Tranquility is his wife; Truth is his son, Mercy is his sister, Self-restraint is his brother, Earth is his bed and the eight directions are his dwelling place.” Let us therefore leave the golf course and the club house and wander together along the banks of the holy river.

In the first place how did the Godavari come to Nasik? Once upon a time the river Ganges was brought down from heaven by the austerities of King Bhagiratha of Ayodhya, so that he might perform the funeral rites of his kinsmen, the sixty thousand sons of King Sagar. To prevent the Ganges destroying the earth, the God Shiva caught her in his hair as she fell and kept her there for a whole year. Well the Ganges is a lady as well as a river and after some time Shiva’s queen, Parvati, grew bitterly jealous of the fair woman, whom her husband carried continually in her hair. She consulted her son the elephant-headed Ganpati. That wise one found a solution for the difficulty. It so happened that at this time a rishi of extraordinary powers and merits named Gautama lived near what is now the bed of the Godavari river. To supply his limited needs he cultivated a little rice field. Ganpati turned himself into a cow and wandering towards Gautama’s rice field began shamelessly to eat the holy man’s scanty crop. Gautama, justly enraged, rose and with his staff admonished sharply the cow, that respected so little his sanctity. This was what Ganpati had foreseen. He fell dead on the spot. The news spread that Gautama had killed a cow. The neighbourhood was deeply shocked. Then through Parvati’s and Ganpati’s combined contrivance, the monsoon failed. The cause was clear. The rishi had killed a cow and the gods to punish him for this fearful sin had withheld the rains. The neighbours going in a body to the guilty rishi dilated on the sin that he had committed, until they had extracted from him a promise that he would by his austerities obtain water for their crops. Gautama to fulfil his promise went through the most incredible penances in honour of the God Shiva, until the latter asked the rishi what he wanted. “I want some of the Ganges water for the country side,” replied the sage and he told Shiva the story of the sin which he had inadvertently committed. The God smiled as he heard the tale, because he guessed how it had come to pass. To humour his queen and at the same time to oblige the rishi, he released a part of the Ganges river at Trimbak and it became the Godavari. The neighbours of Gautama sowed their crops, the Ganges having lost the fairest portion of her waters lost half her beauty and Parvati ceased to be jealous.

Having brought the Godavari to Nasik let us next consider why Nasik rather than other spots along the river bank is so holy. The reason is that it was at Nasik that the hero King Rama of Ayodhya built his hermitage. The tale runs that his father King Dasharatha, urged thereto by his queen Kaikeyi, drove his eldest son Rama into exile, so that her son Bharata might succeed to the throne. The intrigue failed because Prince Bharata refused to oust his eldest brother. But Rama in order to abide by his father’s words went with his brother Laxman, and his wife Sita, to live at Panchvati or Nasik. There they built themselves a hermitage and there Rama performed the funeral ceremonies of his father, when the latter died of grief at the loss of his son. It was there, too, that Laxman cut off the nose of a female demon called Surpanakha who fell in love with Rama and tried to kill Sita in the hope of winning Rama’s undivided affections. Ravana, King of Ceylon, was the brother of Surpanakha and when his mutilated sister came shrieking to his court, he promised her that she should be avenged. To carry out this promise, he called in the aid of another demon named Maricha. The latter disguised himself as a deer with a golden hide and with horns glittering with precious stones. Sita attracted by the beautiful beast begged Rama to go and kill it and fetch her the hide and the horns. Rama agreed but before he went, he drew with his finger two long lines which together formed a sort of enclosure. “If you stay inside these two lines,” he said to his wife, “no harm can come to you. If you stray beyond them, I shall not be able to protect you.” Sita promised to stay within the two lines and Rama and Laxman went in pursuit of the golden deer. Instantly King Ravana who had been hovering in the sky inside his aerial car, descended to earth and assuming the form of a mendicant approached the hermitage of Sita and asked her for alms. Sita invited him to come to the door. But intending evil as he did, he could not cross the lines which Rama had drawn. So he answered haughtily that a religious mendicant did not run after alms. Those who wanted his blessings had to come to him. He accepted alms not as a favour received but as a favour conferred. The unsuspecting Sita unwilling to enrage the holy man went towards him, crossed the southern line and handed Ravana the alms. At once he reassumed his proper guise and seizing her by the hair threw her into his chariot and carried her off to his island kingdom of Lanka. The two lines are visible to this day and are known as the Aruna and Varuna streams.

The chief temple in Nasik is known as Kapileshwar. This is the story told of it. On one occasion the goddess Parvati for fun put her hands over her husband Shiva’s eyes. But the great god was in no humour for fun. He opened his third eye and with it burnt up the sun, the earth and last but not least Brahmadev’s fifth head. When Shiva had recovered his temper, he restored the sun and the earth, but he was not able to restore Brahmadev’s fifth head. As a punishment for burning up another god’s head, he was condemned always to see it dancing before his eyes. The punishment was a very severe one and to rid himself of the horrible vision, Shiva wandered all over India visiting in vain shrine after shrine. At last he came to the banks of the Godavari and sat down to rest under a tree. As he sat he overheard a conversation between a young bull and a staid old cow, its mother. “To-morrow,” said the old cow, “our master will put a ring through your nose and yoking you to a plough will make you work for the rest of your life.” “Indeed, he will do nothing of the kind,” said the wicked young bull. “If he tries, I shall gore him to death.” “O, you cannot gore him to death,” said its mother deeply shocked. “He is a Brahman.” “Never mind,” said the abandoned young bull, “I know how to purify myself even from the deadly sin of Brahmahatya or Brahman murder.” The God Shiva was greatly interested in this talk. He thought to himself that if the bull could purify itself from Brahman murder, he (Shiva) could, by doing what it did, purify himself from the sin of having burnt off one of Brahmadev’s five heads. Next morning he returned to the spot, where he had heard the conversation. In a little time the Brahman came and tried to fasten the ring in the young bull’s nose. The graceless beast threw him on his back and gored him to death. From being pure white, it became jet black with sin. However, it did not mind a bit, but galloping off with its tail in the air, plunged into the pool where Rama had performed the obsequies to his dead father. It became at once pure white, such was the holiness of the water. The tip of its tail, however, which it had held high in the air to shew its defiant spirit, remained black. The God Shiva watched the incident closely and immediately afterwards plunged also into the water. The same moment the ghastly vision which had haunted him disappeared. Close to the spot where these events happened was built the temple of Kapileshwar or the god of the head. It is a temple to the God Shiva and commemorates his punishment and his release. It is the only temple in India where no bull kneels reverently in front of the God. For whereas in other spots the bull is regarded as Shiva’s servant, here the bull is regarded as the great god’s guru or teacher; for he taught the god to get rid of the vision that haunted him. Another fact proves the truth of the above story. Ever since, all white Deccan bulls have had black tips to their tails.

At a little distance from the river is a pool known as Indra’s pool. The tale told about it is the following: Once upon a time there lived another great rishi also called Gautama. He had a charming and virtuous wife called Ahalya. Unfortunately her beauty caught the fleeting fancy of the God Indra. He made to her certain improper proposals which she indignantly rejected. He then plotted with the moon to overcome her resistance. The moon rose two hours earlier than he (for the moon is masculine in India) should have done. Gautama anxious to worship the sun before he rose went to the river bank to bathe. The moment he went, Indra took his form and bade Ahalya rise and go with him. She thinking that it was her husband did as she was told. But just then Gautama detected the moon peeping over the horizon to see the fun. He at once ran back to the hermitage and caught Indra in the very act of going off with his wife. He held a summary trial, turned his wife into a stone, painted a black patch on the moon’s face and made a thousand sores come on Indra’s body. This state of things endured for several hundred years until one day King Rama’s foot touched by accident the stone that had been Ahalya. She at once resumed her former shape. Rama took her to her husband and made him forgive her. The God Indra took courage at this and begged Gautama to forgive him too. The rishi turned his sores into eyes, but told him that, as he had behaved in a manner unbecoming a god, he never would be worshipped again. Indra went sadly away and at the rishi’s command bathed in the pool of which I have spoken, and his sores all became eyes. But never since has he been worshipped in India. Lastly the moon begged for mercy. But the rishi would not abate a jot of his punishment and he wears a black smudge to this day.

JULY AND DECEMBER

When the wild Indian rains hide the hilltops and the plains— Teeming rain, steaming rain, blotting out the sky— When the breakers leap and fall at the bidding of the squall, Then I think me of England, of England in July. I wander in my dreams by her meadows and her streams— Olden streams, golden streams flowing towards the sea— And I see their tiny billows as they lap against the willows, And the red rose is blowing—Ah! ’tis there I would be.

* * *

But when Autumn with a sigh in December turns to die, She’s a dark land, a stark land, grim and chill and grey. When they lie the sodden leaves on the choking, dripping eaves And the window panes are blurred, then ’tis well to go away! Yes, ’tis well to go away where there’s sunshine all the day, Where down from the hills blows the dry, crisp wind, Where one hears the wild duck whirring and one sees the rushes stirring And the hog deer’s in the forests by the waterways of Sind!

* * *

Then she’ll come across the brine, dear lady love of mine (Steamship, dreamship! bring her safe again!) And the white clouds above, they will greet my ladylove, And the blue skies will laugh as she speeds across the main. And the great seas will roar on the gleaming Arab shore, (White rocks, bright rocks smile at her from me!) While the trade wind blows, just to fan her as she goes, Till I see her kerchief waving, as I stand upon the quay.

NOTES

[1] The Persian runs:—Shiristan o Sibi Sakhti chira dozakh pardakhti.

[2] i.e. That he had gone mad.

[3] For the story of Jam Tamachi and Nuri, see “Tales of Old Sind” (Oxford University Press).