Report of a Tour through the Bengal Provinces/Baragaon
BARAGAON.
Baragaon, Jagdispur, and Jâfara are three small villages near each other. Jagdispur is remarkable chiefly for a large statue of Buddha, which stands on a mound near it, and is worshipped as Ambikâ Devi, although it must be evident to the most obtuse that the statue is not that of a female. This statue is said to be the identical one worshipped by Rukmini. The following verses are said to have been sung by her:—
"Paibhuji kahan na parbhutá kari
Jagnakpur me jag Thaneo
Síá jhunkhut khari
Gaye pina ke Raghúnath Tureo
Sakal se jay kari
Parbhuji," &c.
"Bipin bán manch márco
Bál se chbal kari
Jal madh se Gaj Raj kareo
Nar Gotam Tari
Parbhuji, se," &c.
"Sisiskál sispal áen
Sodh ke sab ghari
Súsúk páti likhat Rukmin
Bikr ke kár dhari
Parbhu," &c.
"Pharbhu bilamb kánbá kije
Parbhu áiye ar ghari
Abki beri kát meri
Japo narki kari
Parbhu," &c.
"Garud char ke Gopála áen
Garud punjat nari
Abki beri kát meri
Japo narki kari
Parbhu," &c.
From this it is seen that the ancient name of Jagdispur is supposed to have been Jagnakpur.
Baragaon is said to have been anciently called Kundilpur. These suppositions, as General Cunningham has observed, are all based on the error of confounding Vidarbha with Bihár instead of Berar.
Near the north end of the north mound at Baragaon is a headless statue, the head of which is said to be lying at Jáfara. There is a curious legend regarding it which I give:—
There was once a man named Seodhar, who, for reasons which had best remain untold here, was condemned by Pârvati to lose all desire. He had been married in infancy, before Pârvati cursed him, and in due course, when his wife, Chandáin, became of age, the ceremony of gauná, which consists in bringing the bride from the father's to the husband's house, was performed, and Seodhar brought his wife home; but as all desire was destroyed in Seodhar, his wife soon found her position very uncomfortable, and she formed an attachment with one of her villagers, named Lori, and eloped with him. Seodhar pursued and overtook them, but his wife refused to return, telling him, with unmeasured contempt, that as he had neglected her when she lived with him, it was now too late to run after her. But Seodhar would not listen; he and Lori fought, and he was overpowered, and Lori and Chandáin then went leisurely on. On the road near Baragaon, where the headless statue now lies, they met the chief of the juwaris or gamblers, named Mahapatia, a Dosâd by caste from Juafar. Lori wanted to play a game with him, and the two sat down and played till Lori lost everything he had, including Chandáin. Mahapatia now got up to seize her, but she said, I have indeed been staked and lost, but the jewels on my person were not staked, so play one game more with the jewels for a stake. The gambler sat down to play, and Chandáin went behind her lover Lori, and stood facing the gambler, apparently watching the game. She pretended to be so absorbed in the game, that, as it were unconsciously, she gathered up her petticoat into her hand, exposing her person. The gambler overcome by her beauty and by lust, could not take his eyes off her, and he began losing, till Lori had not only won back all he had lost, but also all that the gambler had, who at last ceased playing. Now Chandáin came forward and told Lori what she had done, and how the man had greedily looked on her. "Kill this infamous man, that he may not boast of having seen me exposed," she said. Lori was a very powerful man; his sword weighed two maunds, and was named Bijádhar. With one stroke of it he sent the gambler's head flying to Juafar, while his body fell where he was seated, and both have since turned to stone. Lori was the son of a Gwâla named Budhkithai; he had been married to a girl in the village Agori, now Rajauli, on the road from Hâzaribagh to Bihár, but his wife Satmanain was not of age, and the gauná had not yet been performed. She had a sister named Lûrki. Lori had a brother, Semru, who, being an orphan, had been brought up by Lori’s father as a son. He lived near Agori, at a village which, from the circumstance of his having been brought up as an adopted son, "pâlak," was named Pâli; the place is said to be a few miles north of Rajauli.
Lori and Chandáin now went on to Hardui, a place said to be two days' march (manzils) from Mongir on the north. Here they fought with and defeated the Raja and conquered the country. The expelled Raja sued for aid at the Court of the Raja of Kalinga, and succeeded with his aid in capturing Lori, who was forthwith placed in a cell with his hands and feet stretched out to their fullest extent and nailed down to the floor. A heavy load was also placed on his chest, and in this state he lay for a long time, till at last, through the favour of Durgâ, to whom he devoutly addressed himself, he was freed from confinement. He again fought with and defeated the Raja, re-conquered Hardui, and was re-united to Chandáin. They had a son born here, and lived a long time, but at last a desire to re-visit their native country prevailed, and laden with wealth they reached Páli.
Meanwhile his brother by adoption, Semru, had been killed by the Kols, and all his cattle and property had been plundered. He left a son, and the family was in great distress. Lori’s wife also had now grown up to be a handsome woman, but still lived in her father’s house, and in great distress. Lori on arrival caused it to be known that a Raja from a distant country had arrived. Time had so changed him that no one recognised him, and having thus secured his incognito, he determined to ascertain whether his wife had been faithful during his absence. Accordingly, when he had ascertained that his wife was among the women who came daily to sell milk in his camp, and had recognised her, though she failed to recognise him, he caused a dhoti to be placed across the entrance to his camp, so that no one could come in without striding across it. Next morning, when the women came, he instructed Chandáin to call them in quick, judging that if his wife, in her hurry, should step across the dhoti, and thus show that she was not very particular as to a trifle, she was not likely to have been particularly careful of her virtue. Satmanain, hurried by Chandáin, came on fast till she came to the dhoti there, and though others stepped over it, she stood, and finding no means of advance without striding across the dhoti, she requested the dhoti to be removed. Lori was pleased at this, and when she had disposed of her milk and wanted payment (payments being usually made in rice) Lori filled her basket with jewels and covered them with rice, so that she unsuspectingly took them home. Her sister on emptying the basket saw the wealth below, and surmising that her sister had obtained it through dishonour, taxed her with it. She denied all knowledge of the jewels, and the girls agreed that they would next day go together to have the suspicion cleared. Meanwhile the son of Lori’s adopted brother, hearing of the suspicion against his aunt, took up arms, and prepared to attack Lori, not knowing that he was Satmanain’s husband. The two women went as agreed, and Lûrki then recognised Lori, and the mystery was cleared up, to the happiness of all concerned. But Lori had to undergo a severe lecture for his unnatural behaviour in neglecting his young wife so long, and living in happiness with a mistress. Matters, however, were so arranged as not to deprive Lori of his mistress.
On the other hand, the nephew, not having any knowledge of these transactions, and finding Lûrki and Satmatain both absent from home, attacked Lori furiously; the fight raged for a long time, Lori was overpowered, and was on the point of losing his life, when Lûrki and Satmanain rushed into the fight and explained matters; thereupon there were great rejoicings, and they all settled down comfortably.
Lori ruled his subjects with justice, and was such an earnest encourager of agriculture, that in a short time he turned the wilds about Rajauli to a highly cultivated country, where, so completely was the land brought under cultivation, that even insects found no secure resting place; so the whole body of birds, beasts, and insects went up and complained to Indra, who, taking counsel with Durgâ, saw that Lori ruled his country with such justice, and was so blameless in his private life, that he was beyond the power of harm, and could not be touched, unless he committed some crime. To entice him into crime, Durgâ assumed the form of his mistress, and went to him with his food, which was the usual custom of Chandáin. Lori, ignorant of the trap laid for him, and inflamed by the beauty of his supposed mistress, who on this day seemed to him more beautiful than she had ever been, neglected his food and amorously sought to embrace his beautiful Chandáin. Hardly had he touched her, when Durgâ, knowing that his invulnerability was lost, administered a slap, which twisted his face completely round, and disappeared. Overcome with grief and shame, Lori determined to go and die at Kasi, but his relatives loved him too well to lose him, and they all went to Kasi, where they now all sleep the sleep of magic at the Manikarnika Ghat, having been turned into stone.
The legend is very interesting, as it gives us an insight into the customs which prevailed in ancient times, and we see that there has been but little change to this day. Now, as before, we see the great importance attached to scrupulous observance of a morbid delicacy in the conduct of females coupled with a shameless indecency; the exposure of her person by Chandáin is not considered a very heinous offence against propriety, but the idea of the man living to trumpet it forth to the world is insupportable. And, again, the dwelling together of the wife and the mistress under the same roof is not considered an impropriety, while for the woman to stride over a man's dhoti is considered very indelicate, if not actually a crime. In connexion with this idea, I may allude to a custom prevalent in Northern India, for the husband, when going away from his home for a long time, to leave his trousers with his wife, in order that when desirous of having children, she may, by putting them on, obtain her wishes. I may also allude to the legend, to be given further on, where the smelling of a saint's langoti was found efficacious in obtaining a child. I may further allude to the custom of tying chillas with a like intent at various holy spots. The idea that underlies those customs is evident, and need not be put in plain words; but the unmeasurable distance between modern Western ideas of propriety and Indian ideas, even of the present day, is evident: the one tries to provide against the awakening of even a passing impure thought by an unguarded word or gesture, the other not only does not attempt to preserve purity of thought, but does not even guard sufficiently against purity of conduct. In short, the circumstances alluded to bear out the conclusion one would naturally draw from Hindu sculptures, that female morality during the Hindu period was of a very low standard.
It is interesting to note also that gambling as a profession is not a modern institution; the village Juafar is said to have been so named from having been the head-quarters of professional gamblers.