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We left the women to their prayers and followed our host to the cow stall. The cow symbolizes the “fostering earth,” or Nature, and is worshipped accordingly. Sham Rao sat down by the cow and washed her feet, first with her own milk, then with water. He gave her some sugar and rice, covered her forehead with powdered sandal, and adorned her horns and four legs with chains of flowers. He burned some incense under her nostrils and brandished a burning lamp over her head. Then he walked three times round her and sat down to rest. Some Hindus walk round the cow one hundred and eight times, rosary in hand. But our Sham Rao had a slight tendency to freethinking and read Haeckel a little bit too much. Having rested himself, he filled a cup with water, dipped the cow's tail in it, and...  drank it!..

We left the women to their prayers and followed our host to the cow stall. The cow symbolizes the “fostering earth,” or Nature, and is worshipped accordingly. Sham Rao sat down by the cow and washed her feet, first with her own milk, then with water. He gave her some sugar and rice, covered her forehead with powdered sandal, and adorned her horns and four legs with chains of flowers. He burned some incense under her nostrils and brandished a burning lamp over her head. Then he walked three times round her and sat down to rest. Some Hindus walk round the cow one hundred and eight times, rosary in hand. But our Sham Rao had a slight tendency to freethinking and read Haeckel a little bit too much. Having rested himself, he filled a cup with water, dipped the cow's tail in it, and...  drank it!..

In the same manner he performed the rite of worshipping the sacred plant ''tulsi<ref>Royal ''Basilicum'', or just basil.</ref>'' (Krishna’s wife) and the sun with the only difference that since he was unable to perform the bathing rite upon this diety, so he stood on one leg against the luminary of a day, filled his mouth with water and spirted three time towards Surya, sprinkled all of us instead of the sun.  

In the same manner he performed the rite of worshipping the sacred plant ''tulsi<ref>Royal ''Basilicum'', or just basil.</ref>'' (Krishna’s wife) and the sun with the only difference that since he was unable to perform the bathing rite upon this diety, so he stood on one leg against the luminary of a day, filled his mouth with water and spitted three time towards Surya, sprinkled all of us instead of the sun.  

It is still a mystery to us why the plant ''tulsi'' is worshipped. I know only that at the end of September there is a ceremony of the wedding of this plant with the god Vishnu, notwithstanding that ''tulsi'' bears the title of Krishna's wife, probably because of the latter being an incarnation of Vishnu. On that day all Hindus (who have a pot with this plant in every house) paint and adorn pots of this plant with tinsel. A certain magical square is traced in the garden and the plant is put in the middle of it. A Brahmin takes an idol of Vishnu in both hands and begins the marriage ceremony, standing before the plant. A married couple hold a shawl between the plant and the god, as if screening them from each other, the Brahmin utters prayers, and young women, and especially unmarried girls (who are the most ardent worshippers of ''tulsi'') throw rice and saffron over the idol and the plant. When the ceremony is concluded, the Brahmin is presented with the shawl, the idol is put in the shade of his wife, all Hindus clap their hands, rend everyone's ears with the noise of tam-tams<ref>Tam-tam is a percussive musical instrument of Asian origin, which is a convex disk of considerable size, made of a metal alloy (close to bronze), a kind of gong. – Ed.</ref>, let off fireworks, offer each other pieces of sugar-cane, and rejoice in every conceivable way till the dawn of the next day...

It is still a mystery to us why the plant ''tulsi'' is worshipped. I know only that at the end of September there is a ceremony of the wedding of this plant with the god Vishnu, notwithstanding that ''tulsi'' bears the title of Krishna's wife, probably because of the latter being an incarnation of Vishnu. On that day all Hindus (who have a pot with this plant in every house) paint and adorn pots of this plant with tinsel. A certain magical square is traced in the garden and the plant is put in the middle of it. A Brahmin takes an idol of Vishnu in both hands and begins the marriage ceremony, standing before the plant. A married couple hold a shawl between the plant and the god, as if screening them from each other, the Brahmin utters prayers, and young women, and especially unmarried girls (who are the most ardent worshippers of ''tulsi'') throw rice and saffron over the idol and the plant. When the ceremony is concluded, the Brahmin is presented with the shawl, the idol is put in the shade of his wife, all Hindus clap their hands, rend everyone's ears with the noise of tam-tams<ref>Tam-tam is a percussive musical instrument of Asian origin, which is a convex disk of considerable size, made of a metal alloy (close to bronze), a kind of gong. – Ed.</ref>, let off fireworks, offer each other pieces of sugar-cane, and rejoice in every conceivable way till the dawn of the next day...

There is something indescribably fascinating, almost solemn, in these night-journeys in India. Everything is silent and deserted around you, everything is dozing on the earth and overhead. Only the heavy, regular tread of the elephants breaks the stillness of the night, like the sound of falling hammers in the underground smithy of Vulcan<ref>''Vulcan'' is a god of fire and patron of blacksmithing in ancient Roman mythology. – Ed.</ref>. From time to time, strange voices and sounds resound through the forest, as if someone is quietly howling between the scattered rocks of the ruins. “That is the wind howling,” we say, “what a wonderful acoustic phenomenon!” “Bhuta, bhuta!” whisper the awestruck torch-bearers. They brandish their torches and swiftly spin on one leg, and snap their fingers to chase away the aggressive spirits.

There is something indescribably fascinating, almost solemn, in these night-journeys in India. Everything is silent and deserted around you, everything is dozing on the earth and overhead. Only the heavy, regular tread of the elephants breaks the stillness of the night, like the sound of falling hammers in the underground smithy of Vulcan<ref>''Vulcan'' is a god of fire and patron of blacksmithing in ancient Roman mythology. – Ed.</ref>. From time to time, strange voices and sounds resound through the forest, as if someone is quietly howling between the scattered rocks of the ruins. “That is the wind howling,” we say, “what a wonderful acoustic phenomenon!” “Bhuta, bhuta!” whisper the awestruck torch-bearers. They brandish their torches and swiftly spin on one leg, and snap their fingers to chase away the aggressive spirits.

The plaintive owl stopped and once more we are able to hear  the metallic whirr of the crickets, the feeble, monotonous croak of the tree-frog and finely beaten grasshopper’s drum roll. From time to time all this suddenly stops short and then begins again to gradually fill the forest with the slender chorus… Heavens! What teeming life, what stores of vital energy are hidden under the smallest leaf, the most imperceptible blades of grass, in this tropical forest! Myriads of stars shine in the dark blue of the sky, and myriads of fireflies twinkle at us from every bush, moving sparks, like a pale reflection of the far-away stars, as to show us our path and illuminate it...

The plaintive owl stopped and once more we are able to hear  the metallic chirp of the crickets, the feeble, monotonous croak of the tree-frog and finely beaten grasshopper’s drum roll. From time to time all this suddenly stops short and then begins again to gradually fill the forest with the slender chorus… Heavens! What teeming life, what stores of vital energy are hidden under the smallest leaf, the most imperceptible blades of grass, in this tropical forest! Myriads of stars shine in the dark blue of the sky, and myriads of fireflies twinkle at us from every bush, moving sparks, like a pale reflection of the far-away stars, as to show us our path and illuminate it...

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