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SEPTEMBER, 1898.)
SPIRIT BASIS OF BELIEF AND CUSTOM.
243
The Rawaliâ boy is seized and shakes violently, holding out his arms. "Ho! Ho!" he gasps, “ Shikotar." He lays his arms along his knees and shakes with great force. The drummers raise Shikotar's wailing chant. "Ho ! Ho!" gasps the Râ walià boy, holding up his hands." Who are you?" asks Jodå. "Charan Mata," the Bard Mother, shivers the boy, and the musicians break into Charan's praise. The boy leans his head on his hands and goes on shaking. He is again stricken; the drumming and clashing grow londer. "Ho! Ho! Narsingh," sobs the boy. "Narsinghi," repeats the drummer. and breaks into Narsingh's praise. The Rawalia boy is qniet for a time, and once more is racked. “Ho! Ho!" he gasps, “Mérali," and the drummer raises Mérali's hymn. This boy is not sick. He has come to take a vow for his mother who is dangerously ill. Joua gets up, takes a lighted wick and passes it up and down the thin Dharéld boy's spine and waves the light round him. I will give you food," he says to the spirit in the boy. "Don't harm the child. Come." Joda sits down and looks hard at the boy. He comes nearer, sits down, raises his knees, and crosses his arms over his knees, and leans his chin on his arms, staring fiercely at the boy. He pulls off the white sheet that wrapped the boy. The boy sits quiet, his hands folded in front of him. Jôda, seated about a yard off, looks hard at the boy. Jôdê rises and trims the lamps, and again sitting close to the boy looks hard in his face. "Come," he says to the spirit, "in the boy; I will give you food. If you don't come you won't get any food." The boy is still quiet. Joda sets a lighted wick on the boy's head, leans down, golpe at it and quenches the wick in his mouth. This he does three times. Jôdå takes a lemon, sets it on the boy's head, gashes the lemon with a knife and sticks a burning wick in the cleft. He leans down, catches the wick in his lips, and puts the light out in his month. Jôda asks the boy if he has any pain. The boy points to his right side. Jôda lays him down, cuts a lemon in two, presses the half lemon on the boy's side over his liver, and himself sucks the lemon. Jôdâ lifts tho boy op, who has a severe fit of coughing. Jôdå passes his hand up and down the boy's spine, and then raises his leg over the boy's head. Jôdâ lays his right hand on the boy's head, and holding a cup of sharbat in his left hand, passes it round the boy's head and drinks the sharbat. Jodå bends his head close to the boy's and passes his hand back and forwards between the two heads. The mother of the boy gives Jád a pice which he lays on the altar. The boy is set on one side.
Jôdå looks after the lamps, and the drumming and clashing go on steadily. Jôdê sits down, takes off his cap, and begins shaking. “Ho! Ho!" he gasps, and the music stops. "It will be well," he pants. "May it be well," says the drummer. “Who is your honour ?" "Kodiar Mata," whispers Jôda. "May it be well," answers the drummer, and raises Kodiar's hymn, a melancholy wailing measure. Jodå is again stricken. “Ho! Ho! Ho! Ah, brothers!'' he gasps. "Has any one come to ask me about the fire in the Brahman's house?” “No one has come," says the drummer. "A fire happened once before in that house," gasps Jôda. "If the owner comes I will show him how the fire happens. In this house is a Chudel or female spirit and a Jinn or Musalman spirit. It was the same in his house before." He raises his hand to his face and rubs his eyes. He goes on in a jerky husky voice:-"A Gorji went to the house to drive out the spirits. The Gorji did no good. I will bring this Badwå or medium of mine (that is Joda). He will set it all right." The music strikes up a strong chant. A fresh shiver passes through Jôda. He raises his palms to his face and rubs them over his eyes. He stretches out his hands. "Bo! Ho! Ho !" he gasps. “Brothers, a son of a Kothårt Bania was going to & village and a spirit seized him." "Ho! Ho!'' he shouts, and shakes fiercely. "I take what is due to me if I have a miad to take it. If not I do not take it. Ho! Bo !" he gasps, "Shikotar." Almost at once a fresh fit seizes him. “Ho ! Ho ! Mêrali." "May it be well," say the drummers, and raise Meralt's hymn. Jodå gives some grains of wheat to one of the drummers who sprinkles them on the ground. Jôdá is fiercely shaken. “Ho! Ho! May it be well." The music stops and again begins. Jôdâ grows quiet, but is soon once more driven. “Ho! Ho! Lalbat Pbülbål." The music strikes up once more, bat Jôdi gradually calms and sits still. The mother of the thin Dhårêlá boy comes in, and Jida says to her you have fulfilled your yow, lady, and cats off the cloth that was bound round the sick boy's upper arm.
