Our Little Hindu Cousin Part 5

ON the road to Benares they found many other people going the same way as they themselves. There were old people, young people, children, beggars of all kinds, priests of all faiths, sick people and well people,--all going to the "Holy City" carrying offerings of flowers and fruits, and all intending to bathe in the Sacred River.

Finally our party made camp just outside the city gates. Here they left the wagon and servants and made their way through the crowded, dirty streets until they finally came down to the banks of the river Ganges.

Such a sight as met their eyes!

"Oh!" said Chola, "all the temples in the world must be here."

"And all the people, too," said Mahala.

"And all the beggars as well," answered Harajar, as they shouldered their way through a crowd of "_fakirs_" holding out their begging-bowls.

"Nay, speak kindly of all in the 'Holy City.' It may be that our child will be cured," said the gentle mother, as she wrapped her veil around the baby to keep off the hot sun.

The children stopped to stare at the hundreds of big temples of strange shapes which stretched up and down the river back as far as they could see. In front of these temples were terraces and long flights of steps, called "_ghats_" leading down to the river's edge.

"We will go first to the temple to make an offering," said Chola's father, as they walked past temple after temple full of queer, ugly images.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "THESE THE CHILDREN TWISTED INTO WREATHS AND THREW INTO THE RIVER."]

At last, after many inquiries, they found the temple that they were looking for, and put dishes of coloured rice and flowers before a great bronze image with four arms and two big diamonds for eyes, sitting cross-legged just as they did themselves.

After this they went down the long steps in front of the temple to the river's bank, and the baby was bathed in the water with much ceremony.

The children all splashed around and thought it rather good fun. The water was cool and agreeable, and they amused themselves trying to catch the long lines of flower wreaths which went floating by. These wreaths of flowers are thrown into the waters of the Ganges by the pilgrims as an offering to the waters of the "Sacred River."

Little Shriya had brought her dolls. One by one she sadly dropped them, the brightly painted little dolls, made of clay and dressed just like herself, into the river. At last she held in her arms only the two she had made herself in the garden at home. They had lost most of their arms and legs on the journey, and were sorry-looking little dolls; but Shriya was very fond of them, and she wondered if the "Sacred River" would really miss them if she kept them. With a sigh she decided this would be very wrong, and so she put them, too, tenderly in the water among the floating flowers. She then sat down on the steps and drew her veil over her face and sighed softly, for it would be three whole months before she could have any more dolls.

"Here are our flowers," said Chola, running down the steps with his arms full of yellow marigolds and sweet jasmine, which he had bought from the flower-seller who sat under one of the big umbrellas. These the children twisted into wreaths and threw into the river. "And here is one for the man who gave us the sugar-cane," he said, tossing a large wreath on the water.

"Here thou wilt see every _caste_ in India," said Harajar, as they sat on the steps drying themselves under a big umbrella after their bath.

There were indeed thousands of people; some just getting ready to enter the water; others slipping into their dry clothes after their bath.

There were water-carriers, carrying great jugs of the "holy water" to sell to pilgrims to carry with them.

"Look how the smoke rolls up yonder," said Mahala. "The smoke comes from the burning '_ghats_.' May the little one not have to be carried there,"

said his uncle, looking gloomily at the smoke curling up from the edge of the river lower down.

"Nay, speak not of them. 'Tis an evil omen and the G.o.ds may hear thee,"

said the mother, as she held the baby closer to her.

It is the Hindu custom to burn their dead; and, in spite of bathing and drinking the sacred water, many of the poor pilgrims do die at Benares.

Indeed, it may be that they die because they do drink it; for you can imagine how dirty the river is with so many, many thousands of people bathing in it all the time. For this reason certain of the "_ghats_"

along the river are set apart as places where bodies may be burned. The bodies are laid on great piles of wood which are set on fire, the families of the dead sitting around lamenting and wailing.

Our party camped some days outside the great gate and took many baths and drank much water. When they finally got home again, everybody was very happy, for the baby was really much better.

"We did well to go," said Chola's father, as he looked at the baby growing fat and well again.

"I think the white cobra helped to bring us good luck, too," Chola said, confidentially to Mahala.

Then word came from the boys' Uncle Achmed that he was coming to the city to take a new elephant back home with him, and that they might go back with him for a visit.

Little Shriya soon forgot to grieve for her lost dolls, for now the grand preparations for her wedding began. It is the custom for our little Hindu cousins to marry very young. But this is only a ceremony.

As little Shriya was only nine years old, she would still stay at home and play with her toys until she was grown up, when she would go and live in her husband's family.

If, meanwhile, her boy husband should die and leave her a widow, she would have to go into mourning for him all her life and never marry again. She would have to shave her head and never wear any more pretty, bright dresses or jewels, and only eat one meal a day. Then, too, everybody would have as little to do with her as possible; for even to _see_ a widow is thought to be bad luck. You see that some of the Hindu customs are very unjust to the little Hindu girls. So it was no wonder that Shriya did not want to keep the festival of the G.o.ddess of Learning, for fear it might cause her to be a widow some day.

On the day of the wedding, Shriya stood in the middle of the big room of the _zenana_, being dressed for the grand ceremony. How happy and excited she was! To-day, for the first time in her life, she was the most important person in the family. She had been bathed with sweet perfumes, and her mother had put all kinds of powders on her face and painted her eyebrows.

"Oh, mother, is it not lovely?" cried the little girl gleefully, as the mother draped a scarf of pale blue silk all shining with gold over her beautiful dress of pink silk.

"Now thou wilt indeed look like a little princess," said the grandmother, as she put a wonderful jewelled head-dress which she had worn at her own wedding on Shriya's head. It was of gold set with many jewels, and little Shriya gave a sigh of pleasure and joyfully clapped her hands when her mother held up a small mirror that she might see herself.

The grandmother decked her out with many other kinds of jewelled ornaments, long earrings that hung down to her shoulders, beautiful pearls, and a gold collar around her neck. Then she put on bracelet after bracelet of gold and silver until her arms were almost covered from shoulder to wrist, and she had to hold them stiff like a doll. And her fingers were so covered with rings that she could hardly move them at all. Last of all the grandmother threw over her a long veil of silk tissue, spangled with gold.

What would you think of a little girl dressed in all these beautiful things and being barefooted? Shriya would much rather have rings on her toes than shoes and stockings. She _did_ have rings on her toes, too, and silver bands on her ankles as well.

The last thing the grandmother did was to hang wreaths of jasmine flowers all over her. It was no wonder that she had to be pushed along by some one! She could not possibly have walked by herself.

How pleased little Shriya was! Everybody was admiring her and giving her good wishes. The boys were quite jealous, for they felt that every one was paying more attention to a girl than to either of them.

"Next year I shall be married, too," said Chola, trying to console himself.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE MARRIAGE OF SHRIYA.]

But just then some one called out that the bridegroom was coming, and all the children ran out to meet him. The little bridegroom rode a spirited pony, and looked as fine as a little Rajah in his white silk dress with golden flowers embroidered all over it, and in front of his turban a handsome jewelled ornament. He had shoes on, and around his neck were chains of jewels and precious stones. Behind him came a long procession of relatives and friends. When he got to the door, all the little girls, Shriya's little friends, surrounded him and led him into the courtyard. Chola and Mahala were very busy running around giving each guest a wreath of jasmine to hang around their necks, and a wand of sandalwood, which was lighted like a candle and gave off a sweet perfume as it burned.

A beautiful arbour of flowers had been put up in the inner courtyard, under which the bride and groom sat side by side.

The old Brahmin priest was there, of course, to perform the marriage ceremony. He made a _salaam_ to the north and south and the east and the west, a sign of politeness to the "good spirits" who were supposed to be present; and, after many long prayers, the grandmother put a silver cord around the bride's neck, after which the guests threw handfuls of rice which they took from a great copper bowl before the bridal couple.

Just as all the little girls were marching around the courtyard after the ceremony, followed by the bride and groom, what should naughty Jam, the pet monkey, do but s.n.a.t.c.h some of the rice out of the bowl, and rush with it to the roof, where he sat chattering and throwing it down on the heads of the guests. This greatly amused the children; but the old Brahmin was very angry. So Chola had to pretend to scold the little monkey:

"Thou shalt come down and taste the bamboo rod, naughty one!" he cried, looking up at his pet. But Jam only chattered the harder and threw more rice and made up his mind to stay where he was.

"'Tis a good saying of ours--'Never trust a boy or a monkey.' Eh, Chola?" said his Uncle Achmed, who had just got there in time for the wedding, laughing.

But Jam was quite forgotten when a great beating of drums was heard outside and in came the dancing-girls and the musicians.

All the company then sat around the court and watched the _nautch-girls_, as they are called, dance. They never thought of dancing themselves, deeming it too much work. All the time the musicians were beating their drums and playing on the funniest sorts of instruments imaginable, like queer-shaped mandolins and zithers; and it was more like a screechy noise than like music--just a monotonous singsong chant.

But this was not the end of the gaieties. There were many dinners to be given. So the cook-room was in a perfect hubbub, and you may believe that the grandmother was making everybody fly around. But she found time to scold the crowd of beggars who were hanging around the doors however, though at the same time she saw to it that they got the sc.r.a.ps that were left.

"It is well to be good to the poor at all times," she said.

"Ah, but this is the best thing of all!" exclaimed Chola to Mahala, as he and his cousin and Nao sat side by side on a mat in the pretty garden that evening and saw the wonderful fireworks. There were queer animals and birds, all made up with coloured lamps and fires; and all through the trees were hung lanterns, made of big yellow gourds with coloured lights inside them. All the while the musicians thumped on their drums, and everybody was very gay and merry.