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154
THE INDIAN ANTIQUARY.
(JUNE, 1882.
we had witnessed. We accordingly proceeded to Gopalpûr, distant rather more than a mile from Pandharpûr; and we did so with high expectations. The road was densely crowded with men, women, children-many on foot, some on ponies, a few in palanquins; and there were some elephants and camels. This promised to be a grand occasion. The pilgrims-many of them-bore small flags, generally of a dirty red colour. Streams of people were evidently coming in from the villages around. On, on to #rising ground, on which stands a large and solidly built temple. We ascended to the summit, and waited patiently for the expected ceremonies. Still the people poured in, till an immense crowd surrounded the temple. Murmurs; the clashing of cymbals; occasional shonta; showers of parched grain, which are flung about till the ground becomes perfectly white. People crowd into the temple; but we are of course excluded. The bands of pilgrims, with their multitudinous banners, still fill all the road to Pandhar. půr; they look almost like regiments marching to battle. But what is it all about? There is no recitation, it is all play. Men wrestle; some stand on one leg; some dance ; others fence with sticks; all sorts of antics go on. There, positively, are women dancing with men ;-can we believe our eyes ? Occasional shouts-loud, almost terribly so; clapping of hands--how the thing spreads! It runs along the line of pilgrims, far into the distance towards Pandharpār. At length we see a large black clay vessel, fastened on a tree; it is broken, and the mingled dahi (curdled milk) and parched grain tumble down, are snatched up by the scream ing, struggling crowd below, and greedily devoured. And so ends the ceremony; which is evidently meant to commemorate the sports of the youthful Krishna, in the groves of Vrinda- van. (Vithoba is a manifestation of Krishna.) We ride slowly back, sadder and perhaps wiser men,--talking to the pilgrims who return sing. ing the praises of the god, but are anxious now to get back to their own homes.
We were informed that they would now hurry off because it was the day of the fullmoon; and it was said that, if it had not come before, disease would certainly break out in a violent form on that day. The dreaded cholera had not yet come; but the terrifio demongoddess was sure speedily to make up for lost
time ;-away, therefore, at once! So thought multitudes; and all day the two fords were crowded with people, bullocks, ponies, carte, all speeding from Pandharpur. Soon the Bhima sands began to wear a different appearance ; not a few tents were struck by the afternoon.
That evening came the procession of the god in his palanquin. We ride over to the town at a pretty late hour; the procession is already begun, --stormy music proclaims it. We move on through the narrow winding streets, till we meet the palanquin. First come the musicians, with two enormous brazen trumpets, which they use now and then; there are two smaller trumpets, flutes, cymbals, drums; men with baskets of rockets to be discharged, blue lights, blazing lights of all kinds. Then comes a company singing, dancing, and shouting Dnyán. dev Tukaram, Dnyandev Tukárám, --some holding large, floating banners. We stand in a lane and look on the crowd as it passes. How slowly they move! At last comes the palanquin, carried by twelve or fourteen men; it is splendidly adorned; there are very rich cushions of red silk; but we can see no image, and we are told that only the pdduká (marks of feet) are there in brass or, as some say, silver. The excited people gaze on the two Europeans. The late hour, the wild music, and the lurid lights might awaken a feeling of insecurity. Had the crowd been composed of Musalmans, there would have been danger; but we can trust the Hindus. We quietly look on; and not a word is said on either side. We then proceed to the river, recollecting what had been said about the Bhîmâ saluting the god; but our patience becomes exhausted before the palanquin reaches the water.
I seem to have omitted to mention in its proper place the procession of the chariot. We had visited the rath a day or two before it was to be used; it was a lofty, cumbrous erection of wood. A poor decrepit wretch was lying beneath it; and, as we examined the structure," this also," said Le, "hears prayers." We were startled; yet the sentiment was thoroughly Hindu. Even from the most ancient days,
-those of the hymns of the Rig Veda-implements used in sacrifice or worship have been regarded as partaking of divinity, and have been prayed to accordingly. Thousands of people wait for the procession of the chariot, on walls,
