The Cecil Whig. [volume] (Elkton, Md.) 1841-current, 1873-10-04
A JATRA.

On the north bank of the sacred Ner-
budda, about twenty miles from the mouth,
there is a little village called Bhadbhut,
which, with the exception of one month in
every eighteen years, exists in the quiet,
placid way natural to Hindu villages
The houses are of mud; there is no bazaar,
and the only substantial building in the
place is the white temple overlooking the
river. No one of higher authority lives
here than the village patels, who can
scarcely read or write, and the village
accountant, who does those offices for
them, and their only subordinates are
few Bills, who act as village watchmen,
and are distinguished from their non off
cial brethren only by the bows and arrows
they carry. But as that particular month
approaches, the village begins to grow,
and by the time the new moon is visible it
is a town. There is a BAZAAR broad and
long, lined with the shops of grain-sellers,
and cloth sellers, and spice sellers, and
sweetmeat-sellers, and braziers; there is
street after street of new houses; on the
shore there is perfect fleet of boats, each
with its one short mast, supporting a
mighty sweeping yard three times the
length of itself, and new boats arriving can
hardly make their way among the swarms
of bathers.
The explanation of the change is that
the Jatra has begun. A year composed of
lunar months, like that of the Hindu cal
endar, is very rickety, and continually
wants patching; and it is prescribed that
when the month Bhadarava's turn to be
intercalated comes-which happens every
eighteen years-then for the space of the
second Dhadarava a Jatra is to be held at
Bhadbhut. Now the most extraordinary
thing about Jatra is the absence of any
thing extraordinary. That so many peo-
pie should come SO far to see so little, that
they should be SO happy in doing nothing,
and take SO much trouble about it, is really
surprising.
The belief that there is particular virtue
in bathing in the Nerbudda at this partic-
ular time and place partly accounts for the
assemb!age, but what have holy pilgrims
to do with merry go-rounds, which are as
crowded as the temple and what means
the roaring trade in brass and copper pots?
But it is neither religion nor traffic that
brings all these people together; thousands
come only for the fun of the thing, and
what the fun is, is the greatest puzzle to a
European. There are the merry go-rounds,
certainly; nor are they confined to youth;
full-grown man will mount small green
wooden horse, and ride as if his only OBJ
ject in life were to catch the yellow one in
front of him; and old men who are past
such severe equestrian conflicts will still
take seat in the cars that travel an inner
and more sober circuit. Dancing and sing
ing and storytelling go on too. Nautches
are not to be seen, but there is a simple
amateur dance, accompanied with the
voice. Legs and lungs qualify any one to
take part. Violent music, proceeding
from a tent, may induce few thousands
to pay a small fee to go inside and see two
or three wooden figures making foolish
bows. Less sensational, but more artistic
representations of scenes from holy legends,
with Krishna often as the central figure,
are also to be seen. But the great sight of
all is to see how many people are doing
nothing at all. The hum of voices goes on
all night, and even an hour or two before
dawn; in every quiet spot armament of
glowing cigarettes show how many are
unwilling to waste these precious hours i'll
sleep.
The ordinary pilgrims attendance at the
temple is very brief. The crowd pour in
at one door and out at another immedi-
ately. To continue passing through and
through, from the calling of the god in the
morning till the terrible voice which is
supposed to send him to sleep at sunset, is
a work Of merit. Near the temple sit the
holy,,mendicants and ascetics, almost naked,
smeared all over with mud, wearing their
hair and beard uncut, and looking alto
gether perfectly hideous and perfectly self
satisfied. Some of them are very distiu-
guished-as he. who has come down from
Benares, measuring the whole distance
with his PROSTATE body; and he who lies
all day on a plank, studded with nails
points upwards; and he who has held his
hand up in the air for twenty-five years,
till the finger nails have grown SO long
that he appears to be holding up bunch
of snakes, and the muscles of the arm per-
fectly rigid. This wretched man will con-
sent to bring his hand down again (he says
he would have to soak the muscles in oil
for three weeks in order to do so, if any
one will feast for BIN three thousand
Brahmans.
Truly there is not much that is pleasing
in a Jatra-childish amusements and mis-
erably corrupt superstition. Still, Anglo
SaXons at least must admire that hundreds
of thousands of persons are content to take
their holiday where no liquor is allowed to
be sold, and that, great as are the crowds,
there is no quarreling, and, helpless and
unprotected as they are, scarcely any crime.
NacmilLan's Maqdzine