# On the Coromandel Coast/Chapter 23

CHAPTER XXIII
SNAKES AND EAGLES
If one ask which is the more dangerous venom, that of a wicked man or that of a serpent, the answer is, that however subtle the poison of a serpent may be, it can at any rate be counteracted by virtue of mantrams ; but it is beyond all power to save a person from the venom of a wicked man.–Sloka.
The isolated hills of Trichinopoly are not peculiar to that district. They occur all over the Peninsula. On the Mysore plateau many of them have a number of boulders strewn at their base ; others seem to be nothing but piles of detached boulders and look like magnified heaps of stones. Every hill has its demon. If no temple has been raised for the purpose of propitiation and sacrifice, a stone will be found set up somewhere close at hand, like the stone beneath my tamarind tree, and pujah is done before it. The performance of pujah to these demons follows no particular rule. If the seasons are good and epidemics are absent in the neighbourhood the demon gets very little attention. Should the monsoon fail, the harvests be poor, or cholera make its appearance, offerings are brought and muntrums recited to appease his wrath.
The scattered boulders at the base of the hills, lying broadcast over the level plain, bring to mind the story told in the 'Arabian Nights' of the cruel princess who turned her lovers into stone. There are small boulders and large ones, lying as if the knight and his horse had fallen with his men-at-arms and retainers round him, ​just as the spell struck them. Vegetation grows rankly between the rocks at the base of the hill. Bracken, giant grasses, brambles, and cactus push their way through rift and crevice. Over the hostile thorns the red gloriosa lily twines its long arms and lifts its crinkled petals into the sunlight. The brilliant scarlet creeps over the yellow tint as the flower warms in the fierce rays, and by sunset it is ruddy to its very heart. Tiny birds hop and twitter over the top of the boulders, dressed in the colours of the lichen that patches the rock. When startled they stand motionless and become invisible. Nature has taught them that their moss-tinted plumage will prove a better protection from the hawking-kite and predatory wild cat than flight. Butterflies pass over the rocky, thorny surface of the hill with enviable ease, as strong on the wing as birds. They come to deposit their eggs on the vegetation, and, having done so, they return to the paddy fields and jungle, where the flowers are more plentiful. Overhead the kites circle, swooping down now and then upon a snake that has come out of this thorny lair to sun itself upon a slab of rock. The monsoon winds sweep over the hill with flash of lightning and roar of thunder, but the princes lie there deaf to all sound and insensible to heat and cold until the spell shall be broken.
The story of the petrified lovers is not current in India. There is another legend to account for the presence of the stones. It has several variations, but the main features are the same.
Before man reached southern India it is said that the country was inhabited by devils, who were called Rakshas. They were evil creatures of darkness, the source of all kinds of trouble to men when they settled in the country. They with the snakes are guardians of hidden treasure, and they love wild solitary spots, which they still inhabit. Many of them were destroyed when the mountains fell. In ​former days the mountains flew about in flocks and obscured the light; but one of the gods cut off their wings with a diamond sword, and since then the hills have been stationary. In their fall they buried Rakshas, dwarfs, men, and all kinds of creatures, some of whom are still alive, and may be heard to groan, or even move, when the earth quakes.
Some of the Rakshas escaped, and as soon as the mountains settled down they took up their abode in the rocks. They preyed upon men and animals, devouring them until not a living creature was left in the vicinity. There were two Rakshas, named Illavan and Vatapi, who devastated the whole countryside round a certain hill in the south. At last they were reduced to preying upon travellers who chanced to come that way. Their method was to invite them to supper. Being of a supernatural constitution, death had no terrors for them. Illavan retired with his brother to the cook-room, and there he killed him and made a savoury dish of his flesh. As the villages were deserted the unsuspicious travellers were glad to avail themselves of the invitation given, and they partook heartily of the excellent curry served up by Illavan. As soon as the travellers started on their journey Illavan called to his brother to return. Instantly he came to life, rending and tearing those who had eaten him so that they died; and no one knew how the unfortunate travellers came by their death.
There was a Tamil pundit, named Agastyan, who journeyed into far countries to learn wisdom. He was returning from Tibet full of knowledge to take up his residence upon a mountain in Tinnevelly, near Courtallum. He intended to devote his life to the instruction of the young men of the south of India in medicine, astronomy, and the worship of Siva. His way led him near the hill where the Rakshas lived. Among other things he had ​learned the story of their iniquity from no less a person than Siva himself.
Illavan met him with the customary offer of hospitality, which was accepted. While the traveller rested the savoury curry was prepared in the kitchen. The pundit partook of it heartily, for he was hungry. Immediately afterwards he began his religious exercises, repeating prayer after prayer, muntrum after muntrum. He put on his sandals and set out on his southward journey. Still the muntrums fell from his lips. Illavan called to his brother again and again, but Vatapi was powerless under the strength of the holy man's prayers. In due course the Raksha was dissolved. Then the pundit turned upon Illavan and cursed him, so that he too died. The bones of the two brothers petrified, and were scattered abroad at the foot of the hills where they had lived, and may be seen to this day. Agastyan reach Courtallum, where he still lives on the top of an inaccessible peak, rapt in religious contemplation.
On the Nilgiri hills the demons are said by the natives to be giants of white complexion. Since the arrival of the English the demons have retired to clefts and caverns, where none can find them, and they never show themselves, as they are afraid the white people should lay a spell upon them.
The Golden Rock at Trichinopoly is a solitary hill that has figured in the history of our struggle with the French for the mastery in south India. It is so called from its golden colour at sunset. It is a mass of iron-stone, which draws to itself the lightning of the storms that sweep over the plain. It is believed that untold wealth is hidden in its clefts, but the treasure is guarded by the most venomous snakes. When a rich man dies and his wealth is not inherited by others, it is said that he is turned into a snake and guards his property in that form.
An attempt has been made more than once to find the ​treasure in the Golden Rock, but the searchers have been driven away by the appalling number of cobras they have encountered. The sun heats the rock, and the snakes are drawn to the crevices, where they can feel the warmth, and yet escape the sharp talons of the kites. It is unlikely that anyone, having treasure to conceal, would place it where he would not dare to claim it again. The Hindus believe, however, that no snake can bite the holder of a rod made from the pao da cobra, the serpent-wood. If treasure were ever placed in the keeping of the Golden Rock, it is possible that its owner relied on the power of his snake-wood rod to recover it. There are two kinds of wood from which the magic wand may be made. One is the marsh-date palm ; the other is the Strychnos colubrina, a highly poisonous plant, which yields the nux vomica of medicine. The natives say that the snake will flee at the sight or smell of either.
In spite of the offer of rewards made by Government for killing snakes, the great ophidian race is in no danger of extermination. The rocky hills are safe asylums for all kinds of reptiles. It is not every Hindu who will turn his hand against the serpent. In many parts of the Coromandel Coast cobras are regarded with veneration, and are worshipped, but not to the same extent as on the Malabar Coast. Women usually perform the pujah, which consists chiefly of feeding them. Milk, butter, and fruit are placed near their holes. They come out readily, and grow tame with the familiar sight of their superstitious benefactors. There is a Tamil proverb that says, 'Give as much milk as you like to a snake, you will only get poison in return.' If by an unlucky chance a foot presses one of them it turns and buries its fangs in the ankle. Or if the careless wanderer approaches too near the hole where the eggs are lying, the cobra will strike at the intruder without further provocation. ​I was once gathering grasses in a compound in Bangalore. The feathery heads were useful for decorating the drawing-room. They grew luxuriantly, and were of every shade of delicate brown and green. I was near a masonry culvert which conducted surface-water away from the carriage drive. As I was about to put my hand down to gather another stalk, I saw a cobra only a yard away with its hood spread. It had raised itself and was gently swaying backwards and forwards, making ready to strike as soon as the hand was lowered to its own height. I stepped back, and it dropped to the ground and slipped into the dense grass. Its colour harmonised with the brown tint of its surroundings. The polished surface of the scales gleaned with reflected light, and the black markings of the spectacles on the hood stood out clearly, a fortunate circumstance for me, as it was that which first attracted my attention. In its healthy vigorous life it was a beautiful creature. In all probability it had its eggs laid somewhere inside the masonry, where the warm stones retained their heat sufficiently to hatch them. The egg is white and blunt at both ends. The shell is not so hard as that of a bird's egg. I was presented with one at Trichinopoly by a gentleman who had pitched his tent over a large clutch of cobra's eggs. They were buried in the sand and were not far off hatching. I made no attempt, like Jerdon with his crocodile's egg, to hatch my gift, but broke it open and found the young cobra like a young bird considerably developed. Its head and eyes were large out of all proportion to the rest of the body.
Natives believe that snakes have feet, and are able to use them when they have any real necessity. A proverb says that, 'The snake knows its own feet.' The belief in the existence of feet has probably arisen from the wonderful agility which it shows when it is frightened and attempts to escape. It no longer glides along the ground, but ​raises its body in curves, and propels itself with a corkscrew motion by pressure against the ground where the coil of its body touches. The movement is suggestive of leaps taken by the aid of feet. A large rat snake, perfectly harmless, and which might have been left to go its way in peace, was once pursued through my compound by a band of excited coolies. As it sped along the edge of the carriage drive, out-distancing the yelling enemy, it had the movement of a rope twisted by a rotary motion of the hand. Where it touched the ground the sand was pushed into a little ridge. Not being troubled with an instinctive antipathy to the serpent tribe, I rejoiced that the poor thing escaped. The coolies were of a different mind. They intended to put it in the curry-pot, if they had succeeded in killing it. Its flesh is said to be quite as good as eel.
It is difficult to understand how a snake can drink milk with a cleft tongue. It manages to imbibe the liquid somehow. Of all the offerings presented by its worshippers, milk finds the greatest favour, and will draw it from its hole when nothing else will tempt it. There is a belief that a snake will suck the milk from a cow, but with such a tongue this is an impossibility.
According to legend, the tongue of the serpent was not always slit. In the old mythological days, there existed upon the earth with Rakshas and demons a race of terrible serpents. It was through their audacity that the curse of a split tongue descended upon the whole species. The legend relates that certain treasures were lost during a deluge that drowned the world. The gods were anxious for their recovery. At that period the world was surrounded by seven concentric circular seas. One of these was of milk, and it was in this sea that the treasures were submerged.
Vishnu turned himself into a tortoise and stationed ​himself at the bottom of the ocean of milk. The gods assisted by the demons, twisted the great serpent Vasuki round the mountain named Mandara, and placed the mountain on the back of the tortoise. They divided themselves into opposite parties, and using the serpent as a rope, they churned the sea with the mountain, the back of the tortoise serving as a pivot. The first thing recovered was the amritam or nectar, which conferred immortality upon all who drank of it. The demons, eager for its possession, contended with the gods for the precious liquid. In the struggle that ensued some of the amritam was spilt upon the earth. It fell upon the sacred coosham grass and the serpents licked it up. As they did so the grass slit their tongues as a punishment for their temerity. Ever since then the tongue of the snake has been forked. The old race of serpents have long since departed. The only sign left is the rainbow, which was formed by their dying breath as it escaped from their bodies and rose heavenwards.
The head of the snake is said to contain a small red pearl, which is highly prized as a charm. It brings the wearer good luck. I never had the good fortune to possess such a treasure.
The treatment of snake-bite is full of superstition and devoid of common sense. Charms and the repetition of muntrums are relied upon implicitly with the application of the snake-stone, which is a porous substance of the nature of pumice-stone or calcined bone. It is supposed to draw out the poison if bandaged tightly upon the wound. If the patient dies after these remedies, it is considered that his death is the fulfilment of the will of the gods, and what is written by them cannot be effaced by man from the book of fate.
The natives believe that a snake hears and sees with its eyes only, and that it cannot do both at once. If it ​listens it is blind. If it uses its eyes it is deaf to all sounds. The snake charmer plays his pipes by the side of the white ants' nest, where the cobra has its lodging. It hears the strains of music in the dark cell and is attracted by the sweet sounds. Still listening it issues from its hole, blind to the presence of its hereditary enemy, man. The music draws it until it is within reach of his grasp. Then comes the rude awakening with returning sight. It is seized by the neck too close to the head for it to turn and bite. Its fangs are drawn and its poison-bags destroyed. The warm dry cell in the ants' nest is exchanged for the cold draughty prison-basket, and the unhappy snake meets with an ignoble end in an unequal fight with the snake charmer's pet mongoose. Sympathy is surely with the music-loving serpent !
The snake charmers are clever in their handling of the snakes and seldom get bitten. They are supposed to render themselves immune to the poison by inoculation. Nevertheless, they prove vulnerable sometimes. A snake charmer, who practised the trade of conjuring as well, was bitten by one of his own cobras and died from the effects. It transpired that the man was intoxicated at the time. He was handling his pet carelessly and must have hurt it somehow.
Natives divide the ophidia into castes. They use the four original divisions which were applied to themselves–Brahmin, Kshattriya, Vaisya, and Sudra. They believe that the snakes observe their caste distinctions as rigidly as human beings; and that they never break their caste by interbreeding, or by sharing the same hole with one of lower caste. The cobra and the bis-cobra, the most dangerous of the hamadryads, are of Brahmin caste. The bis-cobra prefers the jungle to the cantonment, which is fortunate for the gardener, as it is said to be of rare courage, and will act on the offensive at the very ​commencement of its acquaintance with man. It does not wait to be hurt or even insulted before it attacks. With those corkscrew coils it will pursue at a pace that needs a good sprinter to keep his distance. I once met a man who had been so chased. There was one moment which he had no desire to live over again, and that was when he was in doubt as to whether he was gaining on the snake or the snake was gaining on him. If it had been the latter, it is unlikely that he would have lived to tell the story. The natives believe that if the bis-cobra is cut in two, a head will grow on the tail half and a tail will grow on the head half, so that there will be two snakes instead of one.
Thousands of people die in India every year from snake bite. The mark of the fangs upon the flesh is sufficient evidence to prove the cause of death. They are not difficult to make artificially. Poisoners are well aware of this, and the serpent bears the blame of much evil that might with justice be charged to man.
Visitors to India make no special study beforehand of the conditions of life in the Tropics. They are under a vague impression that the country abounds in tigers and snakes, and that both these terrors will haunt their footsteps at every turn. They look for a cobra sitting erect and combative upon the doorstep with its hood spread, and they expect to hear a tiger roaring in the distant jungle beyond the confines of the cantonment. I went through a quarter of a century in India without seeing one of the royal beasts at large; and the snakes I have encountered might be numbered on my fingers. Yet in a place like Trichinopoly the cobras are never far off and may be easily found.
A visitor who had been in the country for a few months expressed his disappointment at not having seen a snake. I undertook to gratify his curiosity at once. It was ​﻿a moonlight night, and I led him towards a depression in the compound which a recent shower had temporarily filled with water. Treading softly, and on my part very gingerly, we approached the edge of the water. He had the satisfaction of seeing a snake that was frog-hunting glide away into the swamp.
The enemy of all snakes is the eagle. In England it is a rare sight to see one soaring and wheeling overhead, with outspread wings that never seem to beat the air. Alive or dead it fetches a high price. In India it is not worth the expense of powder and shot. It is as common as the crow, although not quite so much in evidence. The eagle tribe, including kites and vultures, spends its time in the dazzling blue overhead, where it is invisible to the human eye. I have watched the sky over the barracks in the morning, when the meat rations were being served out. No sooner did the barrows of beef and mutton appear, than flocks of circling birds caine into sight as if by magic. They were chiefly the brown species, the true kite and the Brahminy kite, which last is more correctly an eagle. I have also seen the hideous vulture, distinguishable by its bare red neck that gives it the appearance of being half plucked for roasting. It has a bold sinister eye when it alights, and it shows no fear at the presence of man, scarcely taking the trouble to stalk away at his approach, Its disgusting predilection for carrion should fill it with shame, and cause it to sneak away like the jackal; instead of which it will swoop down upon a bit of flesh only a few yards from your feet with the impudence of the crow.
The eagle tribe is furnished with terrible claws which are curved and of great length. It strikes its living prey with its feet, and the cruel claws dig deep into the soft flesh, penetrating the vital organs and causing death by internal hæmorrhage. With the snake the claws are less successful, and the reptile is not so easily dispatched. The ​bird carries it to a great height and lets it fall to the ground, dropping itself close behind it. The snake is a tender-bodied creature, with a delicate backbone that is readily broken by the stroke of a slight cane. A fall from a height paralyses it, if it does not kill it outright, and the snake is eaten before it has time to recover consciousness.
It is strange that the Hindus should hold sacred the natural enemy of the snake. The Brahminy kite is sacred to Vishnu, and is known among them by the name of Garuda. Like the snake it is honoured by a kind of pujah which consists chiefly of feeding it. Pieces of meat are thrown into the air with the repetition of muntrums, and it is believed that Vishnu will reward the good action. Garuda is the emblem of the infinite. Its constant movement in a circle is symbolical of eternity. The sight of a Brahminy kite in the morning, especially if the day be Sunday, brings good luck. Many a Hindu takes the trouble to walk some distance to a spot where he is certain to see the bird so that he may be sure of good fortune.
It is one of the handsomest, though smallest, of all eagles. Its plumage is a glossy chestnut with white on the breast, neck, and head. The wings are pointed with black, which enhances the rich tawny colouring of its back. It is the only eagle whose size and appearance commends it as a possible pet. It might make itself useful as well as ornamental by killing the snakes in the compound, as the cat earns its living by destroying the mice in the house. Appearances are deceitful, however, there is something about the beautiful Brahminy kite which renders it impossible as a pet. Being of the same carnivorous mind as the vulture, it smells if anything a little worse than the Cooum River.
The note of the bird is a plaintive cry with a trembling at the end of it, as though it were on the point of bursting ​into tears. Its articulation is 'kiang,' with the prolongation of the last syllable. In the days of the gods Garuda served as a steed for Vishnu. In addition to this duty it did the washing for the deity, and continued its service up to the advent of the kali-yuga, one of the Brahminical ages.
With the coming of the kali-yuga, the world entered on an iron age of misery and misrule. A great upheaval of the Universe took place, and there was a terrible flood. All mankind perished except Manu and the seven holy men known as the Rishis. They were saved with their wives, Vishnu himself piloting them on the face of the deep. The waters subsided in time, and the earth was repeopled by the children of the Rishis. When the holy men died they were fixed in the firmament as the seven stars in the constellation of Ursa major. Their wives are to be seen in the Pleiades.
One day Garuda departed to the tank as usual with the week's wash. During his absence the kali-yuga dawned, and the whole face of the Universe was altered. When he returned he was utterly bewildered by the change that had taken place. He searched everywhere, but he could find no trace of his deity; the gods were gone from the earth for ever.
He still flies about in his fruitless search, calling for his god and carrying the clothes round his neck, as any Hindu can see who looks at the bird. His melancholy distressed cry for Vishnu will never cease. If he found the god he would not recognise him, for in the awful birth of the kali-yuga Vishnu himself was changed from white to black.