HPB-Caves-18: Difference between revisions

The lookers-on moved as in a dream, as if they all were only half-awakened somnambulists; but the actors remined us victims of St. Vitus's dance in the group of Padge. One of them, a tall old man, a mere skeleton with a long white beard, left the ring and begun whirling vertiginously, with his arms spread like wings, and loudly grinding his long yellow, wolf-like teeth. He was frightening and disgusting to look at! He soon fell down, and was carelessly, almost mechanically, pushed aside ''by the feet'' (!) towards ill girls. But whether it was still waiting for us! After all, our fairy tale is ahead...

I beheld the skull of a monstrous animal, the like of which I could not find in my zoological reminiscences. This head was much larger than the head of an elephant skeleton... And still it could not be anything but an elephant, judging by the skillfully restored trunk, which wound down to my feet like a gigantic black leech. But an elephant has no horns, whereas this one had four of them! The front pair stuck from the flat forehead slightly bending forward and then spreading out; and the others had a wide base, like the root of a deer's horn, that gradually decreased almost up to the middle, and bore long branches enough to decorate ten ordinary deers. Pieces of the transparent amber-yellow rhinoceros<ref>In Rajasthan, shields are made of such leather. They are very expensive and are worn only by the wealthy Rajput class.</ref> skin were strained over the empty eye-holes of the skull, and small lamps burning behind them only added to the horror, the devilish appearance of this head.

“Their rites consist chiefly of dancing, singing, and sacrificing. The Shanars have no castes, and eat all kinds of meat... The crowd assembles about the ''pe-kovil'', previously designated by the priest; there is a general beating of drums, and slaughtering of fowls, sheep and goats. When Captain Pole's turn came an ox or a cow was killed, as a thoughtful attention to the peculiar tastes of his nation... That evening the rites were performed by the chief priest. He appeared, covered to the knees with jingling bangles, and holding a wand on which tinkled little bells, with his hair down and wearing garlands of red and white flowers round his neck, and a black mantle, on which were embroidered the ugliest fiends you can imagine. Horns were blown and drums rolled incessantly and deep sounde of “devil’s bow”<ref>A kind of balalaika with three thick strings of human – as they say – veins, which are guided by a bow made of bamboo.</ref> – the secret of which is known only to the Shanar priesthood. He went out and, after waiting a minute for Mr. Pole to move into his unworthy body, suddenly, jumped high on the spot, approached the sacrificial cow and slaughtered it at once. He drank off the hot blood, and then began to dance... But what a fright he was when dancing! You know, I am not superstitious…<ref>I was glad, at this moment, that Miss B*** was half a mile off, asleep on elephant.</ref> but when I saw this priest, as if inspired by all the demons of ''naraka'' (hell), spinning with the amazing speed of a spinning top in one place, I almost felt sick. The enraged crowd hooted and howled when the priest begun to inflict deep wounds all over his body with the bloody sacrificial knife. To see him, with his hair waving in the wind and his mouth covered with foam; to see him bathing in the blood of the sacrificed animal, mixing it with his own, was more than I could bear. I felt as if hallucinated, I fancied I also was spinning round. Faster and faster...”

Imagine a skeleton three arhins [2.13&nbsp;m, 7 feet] high, covered with brown Morocco leather, with a dead child's tiny head stuck on its bony shoulders! The eyes set so deep and at the same time so big, flashing such fiendish burning flames all through your body that you begin to feel your brain stop working, your thoughts become entangled and your blood freeze in your veins... Here I describe my personal impressions, and my description is too weak. But Mr. Y*** and the colonel both grew pale under her stare, and Mr. Y*** even spat out.

Of course, this impression lasted no longer than a few seconds and vanished as swiftly as it had come, ritgt after she tore away her deathly-intent and at the same time burning gaze from us and turned to the kneeling crowd. But still all our attention was fixed on this remarkable creature...

Meanwhile, she stood motionless as if suddenly transformed into an ugly bronze idol. In one hand she held a small dish with a big piece of burning camphor, in the other a handful of rice, and she never removed her burning eyes from the crowd lying servilely in the dust at her feet. The pale yellow flame of the camphor flickered in the wind, and lit up her deathlike head, almost touching her chin; but she paid no heed to it. Her neck, as wrinkled as a mushroom, as thin as a stick, was surrounded by three rows of medallions made of cooper or gold. Her head was adorned with a snake of the same material. Her grotesque, hardly human body was covered by a piece of saffron-yellow muslin; the same around the protruding ribs...

The demoniac little girls raised their heads from be-neath the leaves, and set up a prolonged animal-like howl. Their example was followed by the old man, who lay exhausted by his frantic dance. Then the witch tossed her head convulsively, and began her invocations, rising on tiptoe, as if moved by some external force.

At first, the movements of the witch were slow, unequal, somewhat convulsive; then, gradually, they became less angular; at last, as if catching the cadence of the drums, leaning all her long body forward, and writhing like an eel, she rushed with incredible speed round and round the blazing bonfire... A dry leaf caught in a hurricane could not fly swifter. Her bare bony feet trod noiselessly on the rocky ground. The long locks of her hair flew round her like snakes, writhing as if they were alive and lashing the spectators, who knelt, stretching their trembling arms towards her... Whoever was touched by one of this Fury's black curls, fell down on the ground, snarling with happiness, shouting thanks to the goddess, and considering himself cured. It was not human hair that touched the happy elect, it was the ''goddess'' herself, one of the “seven”.  

We haven't heard her voice yet. Her lips are tightly compressed, and she hasn't opened them yet. It was already ''an hour and a half'' since the race began. All this time the witch never rested, stopping only six times for a few seconds each time… “Sister” do not hesitate, they know their bussiness… That's why they are goddesses!  

Miss B*** woke up, and asked what was the meaning of all this noise. She was awoked by the noise of many voices and the sounds of the many retreating footsteps, the general rush of the naked crowd, had frightened her. She relieved hereself by describing her impressions, showed us the rows of her teeth in star light in a slow motion from benevolent smiling to yawning and fell asleep peacefully again.