the Same Author :
% /
LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OVER FRANCE
$
A Diary of the Journey of Three ^French Exiles
from Paris to Bombay, (f hacker & Co., JL/</.)* Trans-
lated from French by Mathilde Camacho, with a
Preface by His Excellency Monsieur Louis BONVIN,
Governor of French India and Delegate of General
de Gaulle.
FIRSI PUBLISHED 1946
^>RINTED BY J. K. SHARMA AT THE ALLAHABAD LAW JOURNAL PRESS
ALLAHABAD AND PUBLISHED BY KITABISTAN, ALAHABAD ^
THESE PAGES ARE A HUMBLE OFFERING
To THE GREAT RISHISOF INDIA,
*THOSE J?PISE MEN WHO LOVED THE PEOPLE,
LIVED FOR THE PEOPLE,
AND WHO TAUGHT THE BROTHERHOOD OF PEOPLES, ,
To
1MY
ROADS OF
J.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Foreword . . . . . . . . . . 1 1
Introduction . . . . . . . . . . 1}
PART!
T. An Indian Treasure Casket . . . . . . 25
II. Toward* Aryavarta .. .. .. .. 28
Genoa . . . . . . . . . . . . 30
At Sea Ports of Call . . . . . . 31
Evening and Suryrise at Port Said . . . . 4
The Rose Desert of Arabia The Fkry Sea 37
1 Tlie Crickets of Aden . . . . . . 39 "
Flying Fishes A Yogi Between Decks . . 39
The Mother . . . . . . . . . . 4*
III. Bombay . . . . . . . . . . 45 ,
Indian Railway Stations . . . . . . 46
A Hindu Dinner . . . . . . ... 48
IV. Mysore: .. .. .. .. ., 50
Its Palaces . . . . . . . . . . 53
Its Arabian Nights* Processions . . . . 5^
The Goddess Chamoundi . . . . . . 58
V. The Mysterious Blue Mountains . . . . 61
PART U
9
VI. The Message of India's Temples .. . . 73
VII. Evenings at Madura . . . . . . . . 76
An Entrancing Vision of the Gods . . 77*
\ CONTENTS ' <
e
PAGB
The Temple of Rameshwaram in tfce Mforn-
ing . . . . . . * . . . 83
IX. The &ock of Ganesha 87
The Land of Bharata 90
The Avatars of Vishnu . . . . . . 92
X. Meditation at Tanjore 95
XL The Secret of Chidambaram . . . . 99
XII. The Descent of the Ganges . . . . 115
XIII. Tom Toms at Conjeevaram .. . . 119
PART III X '
XIV. A Poet Saint 131,
* XV. On the Road to Malabar 137
XVI. The Enchantment of the Coast of Spices . . 145
XVH. The Flute of Shri Krishna .. .. ' .. 158
XVIII. The Regard of a Sage 168
:XIX. Hampi The "City of Victory" .. .. 175
XX. Hyderabad the Mussulmana . . . . 1 86
'XXI. Two Tombs 197
The fair in the desert . . . . . ^zoi
XXII. The Triple Refuge . . . \ . . . 204
XXIII. Hindu Villages 215
1 The Women of India . . . . . . 221
XXIV. From the Tail of a Monkey to the, Tumult of
the Ocean >. . . 228
XXV. The Sacred Routes 232
* *
f
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS *
PAGE
x. A Statue in Hampi . . . . . . . . 3
^ i
2. Pageantry at the Mysore Dasara . . . . . . 56
3. Sanskrit Teaching in the Conjeevaram Temple 120
4. Somanathpur Temple .. .. .. ..158
5. The Monolithic Gomateshvara at Shravanabel-
gola . . . . . . . . . . . . 168
6* Women of South India . . . . . . . . 221
NOTE The photographs were taken by the author and
FOREWORD
This book was written during the year 1938-39, after
,stay made in India in 1937. It should have been published
in Paris, but war broke out.
Certain circumstances, related in our book: "Lights
and Shadows Over France/'* brought us once again to
India's shores. This volume: "The Fragrance of India
Landmarks for the World of Tomorrow," will therefore
see daylight in the very land where it was conceived.
From these pages, we have nothing to substract with
regard to its ideas. They are as much actuality now as
if they had been written during the tragedy whick is today
shaking the world to its foundations. We should be able
to add nianv pages to this book on what we have seen and
gfeaned again while in this country; however, they
would make another volume that we may, perhaps, write
in the future.
Tellicherry, Malabar South India Louis REVEL
April 1945
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
Both authoi^ndpublisher wish to express their thanks
to the Hindu and Dombay Chronicle Editors, and to the
French Review Editor "France Orient" for allowing use
to be jnade^of material already published.
* Lights and Shadows Over Franc* (Diary of the Journey of Three
French Exthsfrow Parts to Bombay) by Louis Revel, published by {
Thackcr & Co., Bombay.
INTRODUCTION
i
The Soul of the World is in danger. It is a banal
truth to write but, nevertheless, it ought to be ceaselessly
repeated.
Each passing day sees humanity sliding insensibly
towards an abyss of suffering and misery. Each circling
year sees the contemporary world becoming more and more
an arena where \xftld beasts men, our brothers tear
each other to pieces. Soon, a sinister twilight will
creep over the earth and the world will be no more than a
vast sepulchre in which are entombed humanity's noblest,
ideals.
Jn the present world-wide frenzy, there are men who
try to dam this tide of hate, discord, struggle, that is
precipitating the nations one against the other. These
men hope, in spite of all, that like a solitary traveller
who enamoured of beauty, force, grandeur, climbs the
paths leading to the summits contemporary humanity
(or, if you prefer, the peoples or a fragment of these
peopjps) will contemplate from the heights of its inner
vision the rich and glorious past of certain civilisations,
now disappeared or sleeping, in order that it may establish
an immense bridge of communication, a pipe-fine, so to
say, a triumphal way by means of which the modern 1
world may glean ftrom the past some grains of its immortal
values, with wliich jlone can be built up a civilisation
on the five intangible rocks of true knowledge, liberty,
brotherhood, equality, and love.
Have ^Ere not learned history ? We are stuffed with
history and science. We have learned of the slow rise of
peoples, from paleolithic men to the so-called civilised
men, who are ^urselves. We have, at least, retained the*
history of our civilisation. We have studied the different
THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
social changes which took place in ancfent Gre^e from the
Age of the Tyrants until the formation * of the Athenian
Democracy. We know, equally, from the war of Pelo-
ponnesus, ,how anarchy developed, how little by little
the people were impoverished by a rapacious capitalism;
then, we also know how, in the heart of the Roman Repub-
lic, dictators arose from the discontent of the masses who
hoped (O unhappy, naive men !) that these dictator-tyrants*
would save them from misery. Lastly, we have studied
the causes of the fall of the Roman Empire, the eternal
causes, namely: economic depression, taxes impossible
to support, slavery, the concentration of financial power in
the hands of a few, the decrease in berths, civil wars or
simply wars, luxury, debauchery, the position of woman
reduced to the role of servants briefly, all that we know
so well.
We have read all that ir our history manuals. That
is the pas ( t, some will say, what has it to do with our
modern times ? And we come to the strange attitude of
regarding history as a dusty museum of antiques
which has to be visited in order to pass our examinations
and which we shall never visit when we reach manhood.
History, we think, is for children and young people. We
still remember, without doubt, how weary we were, our
elbows on our desk, our eyes fixed on the springtime trees
growing in the college courtyard, listening with absent-
minded ears to the insipid lessons delivered in monotonous
tones by the professor. And in our brain wore rolling
confusedly the words: Ostrogoths, Visigoths, Huns....
How beautiful the trees are ! we thought. If only we could
be outside in the sun 1
History lessons 1 Professor of history 1 Synonyms
for tedium, when history lessons, in spite of M. Valery,
ought to be living lessons, capable of enlightening, of
bripging to the rising generations broad, bold concep-
tions, so that these generations, in their rcle of men, might
jtnake humanity contribute in due measure to sure progress,
seeing clearly, on the ore hand, that the physical, intellec-
INTRODUCTION
tual, and moral Splendour of ancient civilisations, at thcfi
apogee, arenas tnapy glowing landmarks pointing out
the route to be followed by the contemporary world and,
on the other hand, that the decline and collapse of these
ancient civilisations are warnings of the reefs to be avoided,
World history continually shows us that men repeat the
^ame errors because they do not want to learn the profound
causes of past faults, nor retain the elements that have
contributed in forming epochs of glory. There is a phi-
losophy of history that should be Teamed. Whether one
wishes it or not, the history of humanity is composed of
periods of light and shadow. These periods have their
source in human natyre, in the play of its most hidden for-
ces. To learn the mechanism of these forces is to resolve
the destiny of man.
* The history of our civilisation is rich in salutary
lessons. First, to learn and^ above all, to retaiti which
is more difficult that the decline of a nation ahxjiys begins
when* those who have the most responsibility in a state
nfiglect, or refuse, to listen to the people's voice, the voice
of the masses who suffer and beg their inviolable right
to happiness.
When we consider the past, we are often seized with
admiration for certain historic figures who knew how to
lead their nation to altitudes that have never been attained
by our modern civilisation. And why? Because these
individuals, besides their genius of organisation, had in
their hearts what is lacking the most in our modern states-
men: love for the people y as well as knowledge of the laws
of nature codified in the old, eternal symbols.
The glories f ctf Chaldea, Egypt, Greece, witness to
what man in possession of these two gifts can achieve;
lacking them, every nation is doomed sooner or later to
flecay and Crumble in anarchy.
Moreover, when we regard the present position of
the world, is it not one of the greatest privileges of the
traveller, as of the historian, to show, in his modest way,
the columns of gfory erected in the past by men who were
1 6 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
iruly wise, columns of glory marking the triumphal way
to true culture and to pure civilisation ? "
When we seek in the buried centuries for vestiges
of these columns of glory, a name, among others, emerges:
INDIA.
It is a fact, whether we wish to accept it or not, that
India is the Mother of all of us. She has given us every-
thing: religion, philosophy, science, art. All that has
been truly great, noble, and generous, throughout the
ages, has come from India. Was it not our great Miche-
let, the historian, who, while seeking for the wisdom of
the ages, cried at the commencement of his work, "The
Bible of Humanity": "The year i$6$ will remain dear
and blessed for me". Why ? Because he had read India's
sacred poem, the fLamajana. In what moving terms he then
wrote about India. We can but transcribe his burning
words: "
*
"Each year, it is necessity to retire, to take breath again,
to revive ourselves at the grtat living sources that forever
keep their eternal freshness Where can we find them
if not at the cradle of our race, on the sacred summits from
where descend the Indus and the Ganges, or the torrents of
Persia, the rivers oj paradise ? All is narrow in the West.
Greece /.r little : I stifle. Judea is dry: 7 pant Let
me turn my eyes for a time to high Asia, towards the pro-
found East. There I have my immense poem, vast as
India's sea, blessed, endowed with sun, book of divine har-
mony where there is nothing discordant. A lowly peace
reigns in it and even in the midst of combats an infinite
sweetness, a fraternity without limits, which extends to
all that lives, an ocean (depthless and shoreless) of love,
compassion, clemency. I have found what I sought: the
'Bible of Goodness, deceive me then, gre^t poewl . . .
l^et me plunge into /'//. ... It is an ocean of milk"
Such was the first and enduring impression made on
Michelet by the ^amayana.
INTRODUCTION 17
To these words, we may add the lines of Max Mullet:
"If i had to seek through tty entire world for the country
endowed with the greatest fortune, power > and beauty that
Nature could confer, I should point to India.
"If I were asked under which sky the human mind has best
developed some of its choicest gifts, has the most deeph medi-
tated on the greatest problems of life and discovereaa solu-
tion to some of them which merits to arrest the attention
even of those who have studied Plato and Kant, I would point
to India.
"And if I asked myself from what literature we Euro-
peans we who have been nourished almost exclusively on Greek
and Roman thought as well as on that of the Semitic race
of the Jews could obtain the corrective so necessary if we %
wish* to make our interior life more perfect, Farger, more
universal, in fact, more human, a life not for $is life only,
but a tr9nsfigured and eternal life once again, I should
point to India."
In our turn, we, as so many pilgrims in the past,
decided to go to India, to what was the cradle of all true
civilisation.
The aim of these pages is to make all those who are,
or \*5bo are not,, attracted to the East, aware of the real
fragrance of India, the fragrance that can pervade the soul
for ever. And at the same time to show to those who
desire to* see them, the unerring landmarks devised by
ancient India that can still serve for the edification of the
World of Tomorrow, the world to which all peoples are
aspiring, ridderf of qjodern tyrants, where there will be
some brotherhood and stable happiness.
However, do not mistake me. India is not a country
that can be Assimilated in a few months. It was necessary
to keep within bounds and to choose. Moreover, the
goal of our pilgrimage was the temples of South India.
We do not pretqpd to have discovered this country, others 1
have done that long ago. The works of the great oriental-
1 8 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
*
ists of the West (is it necessary to name Burnquf, Sylvain
Levi, Colebrooke, and how many others ?) have shown
the depth of Hindu thoftght.
Would it not be interesting, even piquant, to cite
those British officials who, at the beginning of last century
and even before, contributed to the revival of India, to
making her better known beyond her frontiers ? Do we
not see these envoys of the British Government, the "Gvil
Servants", deciding for themselves to learn the languages
of the country, whether it be Pali, Sanskrit, or any other
tongue? Among these officials was Charles Johnson, who
later on became an authority on the Sanskrit language and
contributed to the translation of the JShagavad-Gita and the
Upanishads; then, Wilkins, Bradlaugh, Weatherburn, besides
others, all contributed to make the brilliance of ancient
'India known to the world. c
Before journeying as thoughtful pilgrims o\er the
routes of India, before penetrating her inner, atmosphere,
it is worth-while to note that the works of all these oriental-
ists have completely exploded the idea that India is only
a land of fakirs, of showmen of tricks, and tiger hunting.
Much literature has been written in this sense which could
falsify the opinions we might have about this country.
We must, on the contrary, consider India's place in the
world as eminently important, worthy of her secular past.
Modern India has her universities, her thinkers, philoso-
phers, scholars, artists. All at least, we believe so desire
to see the epic grandeur of their country revivified, those
glorious epochs when India swayed the world by her grand-
eur. As the profound philosopher of contemporary
India, Sir S. Radhakrishnan, has so well said in his impor-
tant book, "Indian Philosophy":
"If Indian thinkers combine a love of what i$ old with a .
tfffrst for what is true, Indian philosophy may yet have a
future as glorious as its past! 9 l
L
1 "Indian Philosophy" Introduction p. 53.
INTRODUCTION 19
That is rigorously exact. All these personalities;
whether of tfce X^est or the East, have been and are con-
vinced thai: India ought to awaken from her lethargy and
demonstrate to the world tha f t her past glory can still
serve humanity, now, in its most crucial hour.
Without entering the domain of politics, which we
have deliberately avoided in these pages, we should like to
quote the following lines of Mr. Gandhi:
"I am married to India. I owe everything to her. I be-
lieve that she has a mission. If she fails in it, it will be
a time of ordeal for me, and I nope that I myself shall not
fail. My religion has no geographical limits. If my faith
is living, it will surpass my love even for India
Humanity is one. There are differences of race, but the
, higher the race, the greater are its duties India has
a soul % which can never perish." x
On his part, Tagore, trying to unite all thj true cul-
tures of the* world, cried:
"Alt the glories of humanity are mine The Infinite
Personality of Man can only be achieved in a gran-
diose harmony of all human races. . . . The awakening of
India is linked to the awakening of the world My
prayer is that India may represent the cooperation of all
tfa peoples of the world" 2
And Jawaharlal Nehru adds these inspiring words:
"The past of India is a long, long one, lost in the mists of
antiquity; it has its sad and unhappy periods which make
us feel ashame^ and miserable; but on the whole it is a
splendid pas? of which we may well be proud. We can
think of it with pleasure. And yet today we have little
leisure to think of the past But a time comes when
a whole tpeople become full of faith for a great cause, and
1 Mahatma Gandhi, by Remain Holland, p. 30.
. p. 119.
THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
then even simple, ordinary men and woken become heroes,
and history becomes stirring and^ epoch-ftjaking* '.*
Such outpourings ot the soul are cries which echo
within the consciousness of every human being who
truly aspires to the Brotherhood of Peoples.
At this moment when a hurricane of violence and
hate is raging across the world, and will rage still more
through the world of the future, making the very frame-
work of our civilisation crack, at this moment when in-
tellectual and moral values are being trampled upon by the
hordes of egoism, brutality, and lying, let us go together
Reader-Friends, towards India from whom we can learn
so much.
Let us make a holy pilgrimage. Let us go to the
Temples of the South, remembering, however, that India's
'* spiritual .force does not reside in her stones, nor in her
ruins, nor in her temples biiilt by men's hands, but in her
profound thought that preceded and pressed ovgr the
building of all these sanctuaries and that can still enrich
and ennoble the World of Tomorrow. Let us, then,
go towards our Mother, Aryavarta.
We shall travel along India's great routes. We shall
mix with Indian crowds. We shall see beautiful young
Hindu girls with supple, graceful deportment and great
black eyes, soft as velvet, clad in their harmoniously
draped saris of glistening golds, blues, and yellows; we
shall traverse calm villages; we shall be present at pro-
cessions worthy of those of the Arabian Nights. Lastly,
we shall enter the celebrated temples where we shall
learn the signification of some of the ancient symbols,
old as time, in which are enshrined* the eternal truths on
the life of Man.
Then, we shall be in a position to contemplate the
sutl?jne Figures who long ago gave unity to Irfdia and who
pointed out to the whole world the eternal and unerring
* Glimpses of World Hi story, Volume I. pp. iii and z.
INTRODUCTION 21
path to real happiness. We shall gather to these grea
spiritual Leaders i>f pumanity speaking. We shall gather
the honef of their wisdom, t their profound lessons.
It may be that these lessons will become the seeds of our
inner life. They will be sources of energy, intrepidity,
love, and knowledge, leading us up to the lofty summits
^rhere floats the strong, sweet Fragrance of India, and where
the conqueror understands the secret of life.
CHAPTER I
AN INDIAN TREASURE CASKET
FAR away in the past, somewhere in France, a great
seaport
In an animated street, near the quays where anchor
the big mail steamers from Asia, a modest little shop of
curios from the Far East. Among a crowd of exotic
objects, an eight-year-old boy is standing alone while his
parents on the threshold of the shop bargain with the
merchant for some precious souvenirs. In the dim light,
the child's eyes wander around and hardly distinguish
the faded gold of Buddhas pliftiged in metaphysical medi-
tation, the \^rn stuffs and shawls which doubtless at one
tiflpte enveloped the beautiful body of some far-away prin-
cess in an Eastern palace, the grimacing dragons of jade
and ivory, the copper vessels, the ebony tables inlaid with
mother-of-pearl, the tigerskins
The boy's eyes stray thoughtfully from one object
to another. Suddenly, they fasten upon a casket of carved
"^ood 4 He approaches it and gently opers it. A per-
fume of indescribable sweetness exhales from the box.
On the lid is carved a tree with spreading branches in the
shade of Which people are sitting in an attitude of medi-
tation. The boy does not know why but he is mysteri-
ously drawn toward this casket. He gazes at it, touches
it, opens and ckfses it, and inhales its penetrating odour.
All at once, he hears the merchant saying to his parents,
indicating to them at the same time the object of his con-
templation: VThere is a treasure box made of sandal wood
from India."
India! He remembers but this one word, India!
The boy's parents, attracted by other objets d'art.
l6 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
c
Jeave him to his reverie. India! "The man said India,"
he thinks. His soul, without his being conscious of it,
is filled with deep and strange feelings. This word, so
striking for him, captuifes his imagination. It seems to
him that this treasure casket contains the whole of India
which he believes to know well from having read many
strange stories about that country of mystery. Now
India is before him, he touches it, he breathes its perfume
through the box which he holds in his hands. He is so
happy, without knowing why.
Inexpressible reminiscences! "To learn is to remem-
ber/ 1 said Plato. May it be that his child's soul remem-
bers a time in the far past ? It is for his inner life to res-
pond, but the child himself is plunged in a profound
dream. He lives an intense hour. He is not aware of it
but he lives one of those hours the memory of which* can
never be forgotten. He does not know that, the Indian
treasure box will remain in the recesses of his memory and
will very *often emerge to haunt his youthful mind jis well
as his matured life of a man.
. . . .There was a silence one of those silences expe-
rienced during his years of adolescence. The soul needs
time to adapt itself to the body.
One day, while on a boat taking him to Algeria,
the youth, who is now sixteen years of age, sees in th?
distance a huge vessel. "It is the Mail from India/' the
captain tells him. India! Again this evoking word which
stirs his mind. He thinks that later on he also will steer
toward India, toward her shores. He had learned that
she was also named Aryavarta, the country of the Wise
Ones. * t
. . . .Again some years fly swiftly past. Years of
struggle, ot work, of suffering, of hopes. A man's years.
ThT, count. But the soul of India watches over him.
She took possession of all his being in thd little curio-
sity shop buffeted by the wild sea wind and which smelled
so good of the East. His study of Hindu philosophy
only strengthened his belief in and re^rence for India.
. AN INDIAN TREASURE CASKET ZJ
If he could nRt possess the famous treasure box of kis
childhood,*he jeceived, instead, from a very dear being,
his son, "residing in India whpm we will designate by the
letter C, a wonderful Indian treasure casket all inlaid
with ivory, silver, and turquoise.
It was the herald of a great event.
CHAPTER II
TOWARDS ARYAVARTA
TODAY, the i3th April 1937, my great dream is
realised. Is it possible? We start, or rather we are
going to start, for India. Next month, exactly on
the 28th May, we shall embark at Genoa for Bombay.
I cannot yet believe it, although the decision is taken.
C. is waiting for us over there, A. and myself. Our friend
D. will accompany us.
In my study, I find myself looking at all the Indian
objects which are around ipe. There is the beautiful
treasure casket, a small statue of Gautama the Buddha,
a little ivory elephant which seems to salute we witfc its
trunk by a sonorous trumpeting. There is also a little
temple bell in chiselled copper casting a red reflection,
the grave tone of which invites me, if I desire it, to recol-
lection. And here are some old photographs of my child-
hood: the boat which brought me and my parents home
from the far Pacific by way of the South Seas, New Cale-
donia, Noumea, then Aden, the Suez Canal, Port Said.
They are precious to me these ancient photos for they
always stir up in me a nostalgia for those far-off countries
of the East, those burning seas, especially for Aryavarta
the land of the Aryans, the Wise Ones.
Monday ; ztfh May *
Feverish days. The day after tomorrow is the day
of 0*115 departure. Trunks, valises encumber the house
buried in its garden in the environs of Paris.
Evening
* A nightingale is singing in the big ash <tee. It is so
TOWARDS ART*VARTA 29
sweet, so penetrating, this song, that as we listen to it we
recall a oa&age*from a very old Asiatic book: "The first
sound thou hast to hear is like the nightingale's sweet
voice chanting a song of parting to its matej*
Tuesday ; z)tb May
Shopping in Paris. We breakfasted, D. and I,
on two croissants and coffee cream in the Latin Quarter.
Wednesday^ z6th May
Departure, at last! Twenty-two trunks and valises
to label. It's awful but marvellous. Two hours in which
to gum on the labels (which do not stick) and to write
on each one of them these thrilling words:
"S&amer 'Coxfe-Rosso.' Berth i%,fron? Genoa to Bombay"
A harried lunch, very harried, and at 2 p.ifc. the van
arrives, because it is a van that we need. At Jast, every-
thing is squeezed in for good or ill and we say goodbye
(to our house, our garden, and above all to "Mongol/*
our good and faithful cat.
7.35 p.m.
Gare de Ljon. We are installed in our compartment.
With much difficulty, we have managed to fit everything
in: typewriters, gigantic hat boxes belonging to my two
companions, valises, rugs, etc The train for Italy
leaves at &. 2 5. p.m.
7.50 pM.
We must mftve everything out again and change
carriages.... The porter has mistaken the coach. We
are not in the one which goes direct to Genoa. What a
delightful episode!
8.15 p.m.
Installed now definitively. At least, we hope so.
A storm over Ptris. Last goodbyes to our good and dear
30 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
friends. We are sorry to see them sad but glad to know
that they are happy on our account. Arfd v -...
8.25 p.m.
Departure for India. We are alone, the three of
us, in our compartment and are deeply moved.
Thursday, z^th May
Crossing the Alps, still covered with snow. We
had breakfast at Modane. The sun is shining brilliantly.
GENOA
We arrive at Genoa. It is 2. 30 p.m. The descent
from the mountains is most beautiful. Glimpses over
the Mediterranean, so blue, of course.
On our arrival, we take some rooms at an hotel nfcar
the statioft and then go immediately to the office of the
Compagni^ de Navigation. Everything is in order.
The boat will leave tomorrow at 3 p.m. We gb on to the
quay to look at it. It is a beautiful ship, all white, solid
and yet so slender.
We then make a hasty visit, in a good old fiacre, to
the Italian town, crossing the quarter of the fishermen
which is very picturesque with its high houses and ex-
votos. From one corner commanding the town, we look
over Genoa and its terraces, framed bythe surroumling
mountains.
Evening
After dinner, we go to have another look at our
beautiful ship, all lighted up now. Besifla her is a Dutch
steamer which will start tomorrow for Java.
Friday^ z^th May
A very unrestful night. Oh! those tfamcars of"
Genoa which make a din like hell. Why didn't we choose
an hotel perched on the side of one of the mountains ?
We start very early in the morning to risit the Campo-
TOWARDS ARYAfARTA
Sancto, the fynous cemetery where the triumph of bones"
reaches its .greatest intensity. The site between the green
hills is very pretty. We do not wish to hurt anyone's
feelings, but those tombs on which stand life-^ize and
even larger statues of the dead are much too realist and
ridiculous. There is one which represents the deceased
wearing a coat, standing with an expression of gaiety under
his bowler hat pkced all askew. He seems to say:
cc What a good lunch I have had to day!" Another statue
is a true likeness of a dead woman. What has she done,
poor soul ? She is weeping before the gate of Hell. Happily,
praise be to God, a special grace in the form of an angel
allows her to take the road to Paradise. What gross super-
stitions are amassed by men! What false conceptions
blin4 us! In this cemetery de luxe Death has a terrifying
aspect, mournful, and unhealthy. Oh! for the funeral
pyres of India, all covered wilh flowers, where our phy-
sical remain^are purified in living flames. We are in haste
to^leaVe these places and to go on board.
AT SEA PORTS OF CALL
ii a.m.
The weather is glorious and warm when we embark.
The ship's cabins and salons are large and light. We
* jfcceive a cable from C. wishing us a very enjoyable voyage,
Suddenly, from th& upper deck, we see on the quay tvfo
of our trunks wKich have been forgotten! Heavens!
our light do thing, flannel belts one must provide for
everything. We precipitate ourselves, D. and I, on to the
quay in order to Jjave them brought on board. Are the
malicious Devas ^spirits of Nature) already playing tricks
'on us ?
3 p.m. ^
Three hoots from the ship's siren. Hats and hand-
kerchiefs, as usual, of course. The eternal and sad good-
byes at long partings. The Conte-'&osso glides slowly
out of the dock? We set off" for Asia, for India so fasci-
32 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
<
nating. Genoa, its mountains, its Camfto-Sancto, are
blurred by the heat mists and .... it is the open sea.
The repose of the sea in the expectation of what is to
come.
Around us on the deck, it seems already to be almost
the East. Hindus, wearing majestic turbans, come and
go. A fleeting glimpse of India "tranquil and immutable."
Evening on the sea has come. The moon
rises before the ship. In the great calm, the ship's bells
ring the quarter in solemn tones. Night is so sweet, so
magnificently beautiful in joy
Saturday* i<)th May
After a good and peaceful night in our cabins, we
go early on deck. It is a marvel! In the daz2ling*sun,
some enchanting islands announce to us Naples; reclining
indolently at the edge of the blue waves.
There is classic Vesuvius, which appears surrounded
with smoke, and the fairy bay. Bright sunlight floods
the town, people, and all things. Over there, on the
left, is Posilipo. In the distance, Pompeii, Capri. ...
10 a.m.
Immediately after docking, we disembark in order
te pay a short visit to Naples, as anchor will be hoisted
at 2 p.m.
An animated crowd in the Napolitan streets. Very
narrow streets where the sun scarcely penetrates. From
the fronts of the high houses hand coloured rags, shirts,
sheets Various little shops ^ are selling fruit, fish,
vegetables, old bath-tubs, saucepans, while low carts/*
paused in crying colours and drawn by mules shaking
gay little bells, trot past us.
A conveyance takes us through the principal streets
and on to the beautiful promenade which runs along the
sea front. At one jeweller's, we let ouijelves be tempted
by a pretty ring of rose coral. Unfortunately, we have not
TOWARDS ARYAVARTA ^ :
sufficient time daring this short visit to go and see othei
celebrated pfeces.
2 p.m. '
We embark with numerous passengers ancfr the boat
now starts for Port Said, towards the land of the Pharaohs,
We look once more over the Bay of Naples, then the
Conte-Kosso heads for the South. On the calm sea, dol-
phins frolic joyously,
Evening
After an excellent dinner, we go again on deck.
Before us, Messina is in view. At n o'clock, we enter
the Straits. The scene is one of great beauty. On
both sides, innumerable lights sparkle and a breeze ofi
the ^land wafts to us the scent of flowers, Stromboli
remains invisible. As we pass out of the Straits, the
slight swell of the sea gently rt>cks the boat, it is^oing to
lull us- to Asleep in our bunks.
^ ^th May
A beautiful, clear day. The sea unchangingly blue.
All the hours that we live are passing so rapidly. They
are so light and happy, and yet so profound, that time no
longer exists. The hours spent on board are never mono-
Tbnoijs. Life is organised among the passengers: games,
bathing in the swimming pools, conversations, take dp
all their attention. On our boat, there are Chinese, Hindus,
Mohamme'dans, and many Italians, The latter are going
to Ethiopia, the former are returning to their countries.
We have installed our deck chairs in the prow of the
boat, away from all the noisy passengers. In the evening,
'when the stars appear and the sea swell rocks us, we see
these lights of heaven as little lamps that an invisible
hand balances in the infinity of time in order to point
out to us the route to follow during the long life of days.
Ohl how beautiful are the present hours, sad also when
one thinks that they fall little by little into the past which
34 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
never return. No, to say that the c past will never
return is false. The past does return, Hind\j philosophy
teaches us, but doubdessj with different f modalities. Each
passing day forms causes which will produce effects in
the future and so on in the endless chain of the law of
cause and effect. It is Karma y the law of Destiny.
Monday, $ist May 8 a.m.
We are approaching Egypt. The sun is resplendent.
A. and D. are wearing light dresses. I, naturally, have
donned a white suit. This evening, towards midnight,
we shall be at Port Said, the door of the East, the place
in all the world where one is most likely to meet a face
one knows.
EVENING AND SUNRISE AT PORT SAID
ii p.m. 1
-
The moon rises over Egypt and the phare of the
Port Said* lighthouse sweeps the horizon. 4The ^air is
lukewarm. The boat stops, the pilot comes on board.
Half-an-hour later we enter the harbour. Port Said is
illuminated by a thousand lights. It is the night life of
Port Said. Innumerable little boats surround the Conte-
Rosso and with hoarse cries the boatmen in their fez invite
us to buy their wares. We anchor not far from the quay
anjl by a floating passage-way we cross over from th^ ship
to the quay. Here we are welcomed by a crowd of Arabs
who also insist on selling us stuffs, bracelets, necklaces,
cigarettes, and even obscene post cards.
This crowd follows us, besieges us, while we wend
our way towards the shops which remain^open the whole
night, as long as there are steamers ^coming in from Asia
or from Europe. Merchants and cafes, as well as places
of easy and exciting amusement, make mints of gold.
W$ enter the largest store where can be found" every
article that a traveller may need: clothing, colonial helmets,
shawls for the icy nights in the desert for the desert with
its vast expanse is quite near canes, electric pocket lamps,
. TOWARDS ARYAVARTA 35
jewels, articles made of embossed leather, rings mounted*
with beautifftl pirecious stones. ... I buy a colonial
helmet; it reminds me of my chilohood. Then, through the
sweet night, we wander along the streets of Sort Said.
Most of the houses with their large verandas have an
exotic stamp about them, and at this late hour of the night
the cafes are overflowing with their heteroclite clientele,
in which are mixed almost all the races on the globe, daily
outpoured by passing vessels. It is one of the most ama2-
ing places in the world.
We walk toward the deserted jetty where stands the
statue of de Lesseps. The outline of the Confe-Rosso>
all illuminated, can be seen in the middle of the channel.
Along the side of the jetty, feluccas are moored which sway
gently to and fro. They are so gracious, these barks with
slantfcg masts. On the beach, bathed by the moonlight,
the waves vf the peaceful Mediterranean murmuif softly.
When returning on board, I am touched to see qpce more
the Suez* Caftal which I glimpsed long ago with my eyes
of a child.
Tuesday, istjune 3 a.m.
Our departure is postponed, we shall not hoist anchor
before 6 o'clock. We are delighted, since in this way the
i passage through the Canal will be made during the day
time. While awaiting the departure of the boat, we remain
on deck, under the Captain's bridge. From here, we
command a view of the whole boat as well as the harbour
and Port Said. What a radiant Egyptian night! All
one's being expands with joy. Apart from a few twink-
ling lights on the barges which surround our vessel, all
is quiet now on board and on the quays. Port Said sleeps
at last. The passengers also. We are the only ones
watching.
The sky is gemmed with stars. The desert wind
brings us the characteristic odour of Eastern ports, a
mingling of bitter orange peel and lemon. It is a magic
night
36 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
Suddenly, without lingering, night fades. The
houses, the palm trees qp the quay, the lighthouse, the
prow of the ship, everything becomes more distinct,
The veil of night is lifted. Dawn is breaking. Already,
the birds are waking up in the gardens of Port Said and
tittering gaily. The cocks of Egypt announce powerful
Baal who now with majesty appears, throwing far and wide
his burning rays. The wonderful sunlight flows over the
port, the Canal, the tawny desert, the blue sea. Between
the jetties, feluccas unfurl their sails and like great
white birds disperse over the sea, blown before a strong
breeze. What a joy to be alive! This sunrise over the
land of Egypt will be forever engraved in our memories.
6 a.m.
pilot comes aboard. The Canal is going to be
free. Behind us, the Dutch steamer en route for Java, which
left Genoi before we did, enters the dock. If, will follow
us during the twelve hours' crossing of the Canal, fa
this early hour, the activity of Port Said is already prodi-
gious. The shops on the quay have opened their doors
to receive the eternal wanderers from the sea, A multi-
tude of small craft furrow the port. A caravan of ships,
coming from the Red Sea, moves out of the Canal.
IJiere is an Italian transport loaded with troops retiming
from Abyssinia, from the war that appears so sinister to
the joy of living. Then, a great petrol tanker, then other
boats hailing from India, China, Arabia, the incessant
and extraordinary coming and going between East and
West through this narrow corridor of u the sea, the Suez
Canal, the object of so much covetousness.
A sound of chains, several blows on a whistle, the
hoisting of the anchor in the bows of the Corte-Rosso
---- * ;We are moving. Behind us, other ships follow.
Port Said, the town which never sleeps or so little
recedes further and further into the distance and we
enter the Canal.
. TOWARDS ARY^VARTA 37
THE ROSE*DESERT OF ARABIA, THE FIERY SEA
NOM * I
The sun is burning. On tfoth sides of jhe Canal,
the immense desert. On the left is Arabia, on the right,
Egypt. The Pharaonic country is more indented, more
mountainous. The Arabian desert has an unspeakable
charm with its tawny colours, sometimes coral rose.
Here are the scenes so often looked at in the old photo-
graphs of my childhood, gazed at also long ago with my
eyes of childhood. I never weary of contemplating
this vast horizon, the caravans of camels which pass not
far from the banks of the Canal, camels the colour of
the desert.
Afternoon
We ome to Ismailia sjich a melodious aame its
beautiful gardens, its trees blossoming with bright red
flowed it^beach on which are spread tents, bow-shaped.
And always the desert.
At six o'clock in the evening, after having crossed
the great lakes, we come at last to the threshold of the
Red Sea. The scene is truly an imposing one. On the
right, under the trees, Port Tewfik; in the bay, Suez
Displays its white houses; at the end, great sun-scorched
mountains aureoled by the gold of sunset; on the left,
Arabia and its rose desert.
The Conte-Rosso stops an instant in order to land the
pilot and we start again in the hot night for India.
Wednesday ', 2nd Jjtye
Wind very strong. A big swell behind us. The roll-
ing of the boat very accentuated. The Red Sea is magni-
ficently blue. Under this violent and burning wind, heated
"by a fiery sun, the Red Sea has an aspect of ancient times,
of periods, so to say, pre-human, when worlds were
. born. The sky is nearly white, as if at fusion point.
Great sheets of^water, deep blue, rise in enormous irides-
38 \ THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
'cent waves, surfed with seething foam, resembling a gi-
gantic peacock's tail unfplded. On thie mdving surface,
there is nothing but fire, apocalyptic fire, the fire which
in its metaphysical aspect creates and devours, the fire
which is the most mystical of the elements. Is it not the
father of light, the progenitor of heat, the manifestation of
motion ? "The Eternal is fire, the fire of the law/' said
Moses on descending from Mount Sinai, that Mount
which is not far from us but just behind the heat mists
over there on the horizon.
Thursday^ ^rd June 10 p.m.
After rolling all one night and another day on an in-
candescent sea, we reach Massawa. The night is stifling
and heavy. An Italian destroyer comes alongside the
Conte-Rosso. There is a war going on near here, 'it is
true. A contingent of ItaMn troops who have come to
colonize poor unfortunate Abyssinia, disembarks here.
The land* is often hostile in these wild places,' "the climate
is deadly, but they start off, these troops, young, happy
to be alive, with the carelessness of youth which does not
see what colonization founded in blood by fascist tyrants
will be. Among them is a young Italian woman, pretty,
elegant, distinguished, and full of joy. She has come to
join her husband, an officer, also young, who left at tie
beginning of the campaign and will remain in Abjssinia
with the army of occupation. A lovely couple, truly.
Both of them, radiant with joy and love, descend the ladder-
way in order to board the towboat which will take them to
land, toward the future while poor Somali porters,
half-naked, wearing magnificent turb^nfs, rose-coloured,
red, or blue (it is their only ornament), bend their backs ^
under heavy loads of luggage, under the contempt and in-
sults of the Italian police.
Friday^ ^th June
The sea has calmed but the heat remains the same.
We pass Perim about 5 o'clock in the afternoon. An arid
TOWARDS ARYAVARTA 39
coast with ogly some white houses standing under the burn-
ing sun. * f
THE CRICKETS OF ADEN
lOp.fft. *
We arrive at Aden, our last port of call before
.Bombay. While the Contt-Rosso is coaling, we take a
vedette in order to visit the port. Oh I those vedettes,
they are D's terror. From the moment we disembark,
as before at Port Said, we are besieged by a troop of Arabs
offering us cigarettes, flowers, necklaces My glance
turns immediately toward the beach. Alas ! there are no
camels. Where are the caravans of long ago which in my
childhood I saw on this sand dune ? Behind the desolate
mountains, doubtless, on the desert tracks. , . .
We wander along through the night. In the parched
gardens, jn the lanes, the crickets of Aden sin^ joyfully
and ceaselessly. They are everywhere, in the gardens,
in the^rrcaded houses, in the beds or mattresses ^here peo-
ple are sleeping outside in the street in the vain hope of
finding a little cool air. What a dizzying concert ! Chau-
ffeurs in luxurious cars offer to drive us to the town
some miles distant. We prefer to go back on board for
fear of missing our boat. And always and everywhere
those crickets of Aden, even on the deck and on the buoys
Hi tljp channel.
Saturday, ^th June 3 a.m.
We gt> down into our cabins to take a little rest before
the vessel sails. But it is impossible to sleep in this suffo-
cating oven. W^ go on deck again. Bright moonlight
floods the high rocks leaning over Aden. Very soon dawn
comes and we get uncfer way. Then, out on the high seas
once more, the Indian Ocean. Sitting in the prow, we lose
ourselves in the dream of life
FLYING FISHES, A YOGI BETWEEN DECKS
As the day advances, the heat becomes more and more
intense. We wftch a cloud of flying fishes which follows
40 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
the ship. The Purser, a charming man, shows us over the
steamer. We go down f ^etween decks, we^ glance into
the kitchens, where is concentrated the gastronomic life
on board, r and into the crew's quartets; we catch aglimpse
of the machinery, the mechanics' dining room. Then, D.
and myself, the Purser having left us in order to give some
orders, continue our tour of the boat. Suddenly, in a
corner between decks, a picture that stirs us deeply: on
a carpet woven in warm colours, an aged Hindu is sitting
cross-legged like a Buddha, the palms of his hands resting
on his knees; his beautiful calm face is adorned with a long
white beard ; his hair, also white, reaches to his neck ;
he is clothed in a long white tunic; in the depths of his
large eyes, shining with an infinite gentleness, is the
peace of one who has overcome desire. He is the living
image of the verse of the Bhagavad-Gitai "He who 'finds
in himself his light and his fay is a Yogi united spiritually."
On the carpet, before him in a copper bowl, sope<^icks of
sandal wood are burning, from which rises a fragrartt, per-
vasive perfume. Beside him, a youth with clear-cut fea-
tures his chela, his disciple is reclining and sleeping a
passionless sleep. Discreetly, we stop for a few seconds
to contemplate this scene. The atmosphere around the
Yogi seems so calm. It is the India of long ago, perhaps
of today. His beautiful eyes rest upon us with love acd
a *smile illuminates his face. It seems *to us that #e re-
ceive a blessing. We go on our way much touched.
Sunday, 6th June
Rough sea. Rolling. Flying fishes^. They chase each
other through the foam-crested waves!
c.
6p.m.
The sea becomes rougher and rougher. The pas-
sengers are exhausted by the monsoon heat and humidity
which are being experienced at this season. We resist as
well as we can. To add to our happiness, an order comes
from the captain to close all portholes m the cabins and
TOWARDS ARYAVARTA 41
salons. The^ barometer is rapidly falling. A typhoon is
feared, ye* look forward to \ bad night.
At dinner, the Purser comes to our table to show us,
on a metal plate, a flying fish which had mistaken its
direction. The poor fish, evidently believing that it was
entering Neptune's fairy palace, flew into a cabin through
the open porthole and there, on the carpet, it died. A
sad fate for a flying fish of the Indian Ocean ! It was so
pretty, with its wings like nacre.
I go on to the prow of the boat to try and inhale a
little fresh air. The wind, unfortunately, is blowing from
behind and it is so hot. The surging billows are very
majestic. Through the tumult of the waves breaking
over the boat, we see the stars tracing immense arcs in the
sky.^ On the bridge, the officers watch anxiously. In the
salons, the passengers look at each other with apprehen-
sion. A ^roman is on the deck* ill, and the doctor fs giving
her factions to revive her. At three o'clock in the
morning, the ocean seems slightly calmer. I go down into
my cabin and sleep while the waves rush onward to make
their assault upon the ship.
Monday ', jtb June
There was no typhoon. Today, the day before the
last, the weather is marvellous. The storm has passed.
Face? are serene-again. We are approaching Asia. We
learn that the bad weather has hindered our progress and
that instead of arriving at Bombay tomorrow afternoon, it
will be late at night before we get into port. What a pity I
We should have so much liked to arrive by day so as to be
able to watch the f coast of India drawing near. Let us hope
that the monsoon has not yet commenced in Bombay !
It would be disastrous to disembark under a deluge.
We remain on deck to look at the beautiful sunset.
The sun sinks in a lovely blue light, while the clouds,
fringed with orange, give a delicate transparence to the
sky.
Then we g* down between decks to see for the last
42 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
'time our old Hindu Yogi. He is still thfre, this time
reclining on the carpet^ supported on* his elbows. His
face wears the same imprint of serenity. From where does
he come? Where is he going? It is good to have seen
him once more,
Tuesday, %th]une 5 p.m.
Thanks be to Varuna, the God of Wind in the Hindu
pantheon. The monsoon has not yet reached the conti-
nent of India. It is simply splendid weather. The land of
India is approaching. Feverish preparations for disem-
barking. Trunks, valises are closed. Unfortunately, a
small accident has happened to A. The bar of her bunk
tumbled down, hitting her on the lip which is now all
swollen. She is obliged to suck ice and lemon to bring
down the swelling. In spite of all, joy reigns. In about
an hou^s time, we shall bein sight of Bombay, 1 just as the
sun is sefting. We are thrilled to the deptljs. ,->
From the prow, we scan the horizon with oifr field
glasses. We can no longer contain ourselves. India* is
there, quite near. It will very soon appear. India millenary,
with its glorious past.
6p.m.
A sprinkle of gold on the calm sea. Over there on tkc
hbri2on, a vague form emerges, golden, Which little by little
becomes distinct. It is India !
THE MOTHER
The Conte-Rosso slackens her speed. We enter the
splendid bay of Bombay. On the right, a group of islands
headed by the celebrated Elephants with its famous tern-'
pies carved out of the rock.
In front of us, Bombay: its white houses, the dome
of its 4 grand hotel, the Taj Mahal; then, Malabar Hill on the
left with its hanging gardens, beautiful trees, sumptuous
palaces. This is Asia, the real East with all its magic,
magic of colour, and also of thought. Thre is not a ruin or
TOWARDS ARY^VARTA 43
a monument but that has its own history. Behind the*
town, ext^ncft a ridge of mountains. Everywhere, on their
slopes, covered by forests and by an almost impenetrable
jungle, are scattered temples, pagodas, mosque^ belong-
ing to innumerable religious sects. Here and there,
at the hour of sunset, the last warm rays of the dying sun
touch some holy edifice, a cell hollowed put of the rock,
the ancient dwelling of some saintly hermit, an old ruined
fortress, a sacred pool where lotus bloom....
But the boat veers round, approaches the quay, and
comes alongside. C. is there awaiting us with some
friends. Profoundly moved on seeing C. again. He
waves us a welcome. Indian policemen come on board.
They are quaint with their yellow berets and bare feet in
sandals. A crowd of coolies invade the boat. They are
wearing the national dhoti, a large piece of material, gene-
rally white with a coloured border, which is woifl round
the waist or is passed between the legs, or they have a
shirt, Sie trails of which float outside over their hips.
C. in his turn comes up the gangway, followed by
some friends and a crowd of other people. Truly, it is
only India that knows how to receive and to welcome.
In a few seconds, our necks are encircled with garlands of
sweet scented jasmine India's perfume.
^ After the usual passport formalities, we are able to
descftid the gangway and to plant our feet at last upon the
soil of India. Then, through the swiftly fallen night, we
drive with.C. to Malabar Hill, where we are hospitably re-
ceived in a house standing on the coast beside the sea.
i a.m. t *
After long hours spent with C., all sleeps now in the
vast mansion which is an ancient Moslem palace, I have
made a tour of the large garden. The brilliant moon
streams through the long Moorish galleries, supported by
openworked pillars. The palm trees sway gently in the
ocean breeze. The night is hot and yet so sweet. From
nearby comes tke murmur of the sea. ...
44 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
In my heart, a plenitude, a silence also..,. Why?
Soon, I shall be sleeping in the invisible but eyer present
arms of the Mother, at last refound.
CHAPTER III
BOMBAY, INDIAN RAILWAY STATIONS
A HINDU DINNER
THE next morning, we are awakened early by the
chirruping of many birds birds of all sorts and sizes
and harlequin plumage. Crows and vultures are
manifestly very fat, above all the latter, which have no
attraction for me. They come without doubt from the
sinister Towers of Silence, where the bodies of the dead
are exposed in the open air on slabs of stone and devoured
in an houj; or two by these rapacious birds. Buj let us
leave the Parsi cemetery to the followers of Zoroaster and
inhale "titeHfresh, early-morning breeze from the Indian
Ocean and bathe ourselves in sunlight and brightness. The
grey skies of the West have disappeared and it is the en-
chantment of India which is commencing.
However, we have to shut our valises again as we are
remaining but a few hours in Bombay. We shall come
back later on. Therefore, it is another departure, with
CTthfe time, the cfcparture for South India, towards Mysoje
State, then the Blue Mountains, and subsequently towards
the superhuman beauty of the temples,
We cross Bombay, but this time we see the town in
resplendent sunshine. We pass by the hanging gardens of
Malabar Hill, frotrf where the view over the bay, the isles
nd the ghats (mountains), is marvellous. Bombay lies
stretched out at our feet, its palaces and houses in Oriental
style, its vegetation, its flame trees trees covered with
great scarlet blossoms. The scene is unforgettable. But
time is flying. Our automobile takes us through the
bazaar. Here life is humming.
We arrive # the monumental railway station, built
46 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
~ r
<in Moresque style. We are a little late, Vor the train will
start in two minutes. ^Coolies seize pur luggage and
all four of us climb quickly into our compartment. Once
more, we^receive garlands of flowers offered by our acquain-
tances ancl the train, the Madras Mail, carries us away to-
wards Wonderland.
Our first stage will be Bangalore. For about thirty
hours, shut up in our compartment, we shall cross the im-
mense plateau of the Deccan. The train is already climbing
the steep slopes of the "ghats." We reach Poona, the
summer hill station. And night falls rapidly.
. . . .Very early the next morning, we are awakened at
a station. On the platform, a whole crowd of people is
moving to and fro. Then off starts the train again. But
we must describe the stations of India.
Oh ! these Indian stations. They are unique. The
train steps. Right now, l\erc is one. No, not yet, it is
only a cow which has taken possession of the line. For-
tunately, the engine driver has slowed down in lime. She
is driven away with respect towards the fields. Do not
forget that the cow is sacred in India. She represents the
metaphysical symbol of the Earth, the Mother who not only
nourishes but who possesses every mystic, cosmic, as weU
as human power. But we move on again and several miles
further along there appears at last a little station lost in the
I}pccan. It is Kulluru. On the platform, a whole buying
crowd. From where do they come, all these peopled
There are Mohammedans, Hindus, accompanied by their
families, the women draped in their gracious saris of differ-
ent colours, the children with big, velvety black eyes.
They are all going to a marriage or a funeral, or perhaps
t;hey are making a pious pilgnmagp. Men pass adroitly
through this crowd, carrying on their heads or balancing
on their hands baskets full of provisions: oranges, succu-
lent red bananas, curry, tea, mangoes ; others are carrying
copper vessels filled with drinking water. In melodious
tones, these water carriers chant a magic word which in-
cludes the thirst of all the travellers: "Pani Pani I Pani I"
BOMBAY HINDU DINNER 47
For our part, we%ave followed the custom of well-to-do
Hindu families, Our Bombay friends have prepared a large
basket for fcs, in \^iich we discover a quantity of excellent
eatables, strictly vegetarian: fruit, cheese, honey, biscuits.
Most of the travellers have packed themselves, for
good or ill, into the train. Others have remained behind
op the platform. Seated or lying on the ground in the
shadow of a great banyan tree, they wait for another train,
their eternal little tin trunk beside them; it is all their
luggage. All this crowd speaks, chatters, while the chil-
dren push each other about or, putting their finger in their
' nfise, gaze at the people coming and going. We wait, now,
for the train to start again. The strong Deccan wind is
blowing and the sun is darting down its burning rays. One
feels so far, so far. ...
Suddenly, the train starts off, why one does not know.
We pass through beautiful pajm groves, then country
scorched by the sun, where nothing but aloes grow.
Everyv^idfc* the earth is orange-red in colour. * On the
Broads are herds of buffaloes, cows, and goats ; men also,
'always in their dhoti; women in saris, walking with their
souple steps. Where are they going ? Six o'clock in the
evening; the time passes. It is more than twenty-four
hours since we left Bombay. We are already in the south
>of India, at least, mid-south. We enter the magnificent
State <ef Mysore. 9 .
* * *
Fresh ind fit, in spite of thirty hours of travelling,
we get out at Bangalore. It is a beautiful June evening.
Some excellent friejitfs are waiting for us: a Hindu Brahman,
tos wife, a charming English woman, wearing the national
sari. They take us to Iheir beautiful bungalow situated
near the magnificent public park, where monkeys are
frolicking in the trees.
While driving through Bangalore, we recall, D. and I,
the book written by Judith Gautier, daughter of the great
Theophile, "L'Inde Eblouie" where she narrates with her
48 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
keen, romantic imagination the happy tove affairs of the
young and beautiful que^n of Bangalore^withthe Chevalier
de Bussy. (But alas ! history, true history, says that the
?ueen was old and ugly. Which to believe, oh God?
udith (jautier, of course.)
In our honour, we are received in true Hindu style.
A Hindu home is always simple. This one reflects the
influence of the West. It is very clean and the furniture
is in exquisite taste. In the living room are large arm-
chairs and sofas. On the mosaic floor are rugs or mats
and some large copper trays supported by ornamental
tripods, fretworked. In the place of doors are curtairis
of flimsy material which sway gently in the breeze; across
the large window, the foliage of palm trees.
We go into the dining room where there is no furniture
at all. On the mats covering the polished floor are^ large
long Banana leaves. We are seven convives 9 in all, in-
cluding the child of out hosts, a delicious little boy
of seven years old, typically Hindu, with a^^hite shirt
outside his long trousers which fit closely from the knee.
We seat ourselves on the ground, with legs crossed. Do
not expect any chairs. Beware also of your articulations,
cramp comes quickly. It is a simple question of habit.
On the banana leaves, the Hindu servants wearing white
turbans and going bare-foot, silent as shadows serve a
Vhole gamme of very spiced curries, rice cookqj} to a
point, different kinds of vegetables, curcls, popadums dry
gaieties, thin as cigarette paper some sweet dishes made
of almonds, raisins, and something white and threadlike
resembling vermicelli. To drink, we have coconut milk
and water with pepper for the digestion, A true and suc-
culent Brahman dinner.
But listen, oh 1 distinguished Europeans. There
are no forks, nor knives. One has to eat with one's fingers.
Kow horrible ! You forget that from the beginning of the
Western nations until the end of the i8th century, Christians
never made use of forks and that from Rome of the Caesars
to the most Christian kings, from the luxurious feasts of
. BOMBAY HINDU DINNER 49
Lucullus to the magnificent banquets of the kings of'
France, the guests, who were dbbles of high birth and
exalted rank, when choosing the most delicate dishes, took
them and ate them with their fingers. Was it no the wife
of Charles le Bel who had as a gift in her wedding basket
this barbarous instrument which is called a fork ? Was
k not Anne of Austria who in 1651 refused to employ
this same instrument, preferring to eat with her fingers,
thus giving an example to her noble son, the Rot-Sofa'/?
Is it not, yet again, our own ^Montaigne who remarks in
tys Essays that "eating too quickly, he had often bitten
his fingers?"
To eat with the fingers then is an art. In India, one
uses three fingers of the right hand only, the left hand
remaining immobile. It is a cjuestion of taking delicately
a small quantity of rice, of mixing it with curries, curds,
dal (a kind of lentil), and witfy that forming an excellent
little ball that we then carry to our lips. Popadums are also
used fpr*?9fcing vegetables. Then, the servants % go round
wkh copper bowls, filled with water, in which we wash
our fingers. And, as in a home strictly Hindu they are all
vegetarians, such a meal is purer, cleaner than one where
forks, which have been used by others and which are more
or less badly washed, are used. It is certainly more hygienic.
If we add that Brahmans take a complete bath before
a meal and changg their clothes, we believe we are right jji
saying that Hindu meals are a satisfaction to the taste as
well as a pleasure to the soul in consequence of the conver-
sation exchanged in an atmosphere, peaceful and instinct
with a great sweetness. But I own I prefer a fork.
Later on,* under my mosquito net, before falling
Asleep, I hear the monkeys frolicking in the park, making
mocking laughter.
Far off, a temple gong resounds....
CHAPTER IV
MYSORE, ITS PALACES, ITS ARABIAN
NIGHTS' PROCESSIONS, THE GODDESS
CHAMOUNDI
THE following morning, we leave our hosts whom
we shall meet again tomorrow at Mysore. Thanlcs
to our friend the Brahman, we are going to be the
guests of the Maharajah of Mysore at the grand fSte to be
held in his honour on his birthday.
A three-hours* drive in automobile separates us * from
the capHal of the State. t The sun, clear and hot, pours
its brightness over Bangalore, its gardens and beautiful
Oriental buildings: the Indian Institute of SciencETtlfe Cen-
tral College, the Sanscrit College, and how many others.
In this town, the air is very pure, Mysore State being
situated at an altitude of 1000 to 1500 metres. The road
which unites Bangalore to Mysore is excellent and does
credit to the government It crosses pretty country,
interspersed with vast cultivated plains and beautiful palm
groves. , *- * *
As we glide along d toute allure, passing ancient
carts drawn by zebus, herds of buffaloes or goats, we sur-
vey this beautiful State which enjoys such a merited re-
nown. Covering a surface of 29,483 square miles, pos-
sessing an ideal climate, it has a population of seven
million inhabitants. It is a country of gentle hills, of im*
mense forests where grow teak, rosewood, the famous
sandalwood, and which are the repair of tigers, bisons,
cliittas sort of leopard and wild elephants. In the
fertile plains extend rice fields, like green carpets, fields of
millet, cotton, and sugarcane. In the big centres, silk,
soap, and sandal oil industries are developed. Numerous
MYSORE J I
waterfalls supply the electric factories, and canals bring
their life-gjving waters there where before extended only
uncultivated and parched plains.
Tradition associates Mysore State with the* legends
enshrined in the poems of the Ramayana and the Maha-
bbarata. In times somewhat nearer, in the third century
B. C, the country formed part of the Empire of the great
Asoka. Then, towards the eighth century of our era, it
had the privilege of seeing some matbams (centres of spiri-
tual education) established, founded by one of the greatest
^philosophers of India: Sankaracharya. Later on, the State
of Mysore was ruled over by three great royal families:
the Kadambas, the Hoysalas, and the kings of Vijaya-
nagar. It is to the second of these dynasties, the Hoysalas,
that we are indebted for the building of the temples, the
marvdlous architecture of which reached its fullest devel-
opment in the thirteenth century, such as Somanlthpur,
Belur, ^nd Halebid. ,
Tciday^the Government of Mysore is placed under
.the very wise direction of the Maharajah Sri Krishnaraja
Wadiyar IV.* He is a man remarkable for his culture,
nobility of thought, and for the good that he accomplishes
in his State. He has had the wisdom to associate with him-
self, as Prime Minister, Sir Mirza Ismail, an organizer of the
> first order. The Maharajah came to the throne in 1891,
wher^he was buk a child. He has reigned since 1902?
He and his Prime Minister, a Hindu and a Mohammedan,
show what. two men of different religious beliefs can ac-
complish when they are united by a veritable brotherhood
of soul and love for their people.
It is then wftA ardent interest that we are driving
towards Mysore. If Bangalore is the seat of the adminis-
tration with its 100,000 inhabitants, Mysore is the capital
with a population of 84,000 inhabitants.
Accordingly, we approach the town. It is eleven
*At the moment of arranging these pages in order, we learn
with sorrow of the diath of this eminent ^ '
5 2 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
4
o'clock in the morning.^ The route is bordered with su-
perb banyan trees, the branches of ^hich bend down
toward the earth and take root. Some mischievous mon-
keys, frisking nimbly from tree to tree, make grimaces at
us. In the vast plain, a solitary hill stands out, it is Cha-
moundi Hill. It dominates Mysore. Its summit is crown-
ed with a temple dedicated to the goddess Chamoundi.
We come at last to Mysore, the Charmeress; Mysore,
the city with sumptuous gardens where grow palm trees,
flame trees robed in scarlet blossoms, and where bloom
clusters of flowers of marvellous hues: cannas, red, orange,
yellow; gladioli; roses and roses; sweet-smelling jasmine.
The town is wearing an air of fete. Coloured banners wave
gaily, moved by the puffs of the hot breeze. In the large
avenues, a whole crowd is moving about. These people
have come from the furthest villages of the State to 'assist
at tomorrow's great procession and to fete the tifty-second
birthday, of their sovereign. ^^ .
At the hotel, we change our dusty clothes 2nd put
on immaculate white costumes. After lunch, we stroll
through the streets, all decorated with flags. We admire
the bungalows buried under palm trees and flowers. No
tramways, no buses. But tongas, light little carriages with
conical, pagoda-like roofs painted in gay colours, take us
rapidly at the trot of a spirited poney through the streets
dnd avenues. We catch a glimpse of the zoological garden
with its beautiful park, then the Municipal Palace with its
light, delicately embattled towers, the modern hospitals,
the Medical College, the Government Training College;
the Oriental Library; the Maharajah's (Allege; the Techni-
cal Institute, where are exhibited works of art in ivorv,
sandalwood, and lacquer; the Ayurvedic College, where the
ancient medicine of India is studied. All these edifices
uft vast buildings in Indo-Moresque style with an installa-
tion entirely modem. In the bazaar, merchants, sitting
cross-legged, make mints of gold. And when evening
falls, Chamoundi Hill, illuminated, resembles a great nave
floating in space. *
MYSORE 53
The next rribrning, we wend our way towards the*
Maharajah's palacf which we arefgoing to visit by special
authorisation.
First is the great square, in the centre of which rises
a marble kiosk roofed with a golden dome. If shelters
the statue of the present Maharajah. At the end of the
square are the monumental gates of the palace, ornamented
with sculptures and paintings. Under tbe exterior arcades
of the palace are two little temples dedicated one to the god
Shiva and the other to Ganesha. Beyond the gates, in an
immense park, is the palace surmounted by innumerable
cupola-capped towers. The walls, balustrades, pillars,
cornices, the curtains of fretworked stone, are of granit,
red, black, or grey, of porphyry, or of white and green
marble. The marble architraves are encrusted with semi-
precipus stones, blue, green, grey, red, amber, forming
exquisite Arabesques.
We are received on the threshold of the palace by
a functionary in full uniform. He is charged wirii the task
o^showing us over this enchanted palace, a task which he
accomplishes with extreme courtesy.
Here reigns the unimaginable luxe of the East. If
the palace as a whole is in the Indo-Moresque style, the
sculptures belong to the Hoysala school. After crossing
some great halls, we enter the octagonal Hall of Marriage,
nsflned the Peacock Hall. The dome of this hall is support-
ed by triple columns of extreme delicacy, while the light Is
latticed by t stained glass windows. At the back is a gallery
in brilliant'colours, raised on massive pillars. It is from this
gallery, hidden by curtains of silk and gold, that royal
ladies view the* princely marriage ceremonies.
In another hall, we are shown an object wjjich is
perhaps the most precious in the whole palace: the Simha-
sana y the Throne of the Lion, the ancestral throne which
belonged, so it is said, to the very ancient dynasty of the
Pandavas, heroes in the epic poem, the Mahabharata. The
throne is of figwood encrusted with ivory, but now the
"ivory is covered over with arabesques of gold and silver.
54 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
It is also ornamented with sculptures * representing ele-
phants, horses, chariots J and warriors; ane stes c there, too,
the Trimurti, the Trinity of the Hindu pantheon: Brahmsl,
Vishnu, f Shiva. The seat of the throne is of tortoise shell.
The canopy, of gold and pearls, is surmounted by the fabu-
lous bird, the Huma. The legend says that this bird flies
continuously, without stopping, and when its shadow rests
on the head of someone, that one will become king.
We now climb the vast marble staircase which leads
to the Salon of Music, green and gold, where a great organ
towers above everything, seats covered with splendid
tapestry, green plants hiding their roots in the feet of ebony
elephants.
In the colossal Hall of the Durbar, we find all the
exuberance of the Orient, although the general aspect of
brilliant colour, in which are mingled green, gold, oiange,
and blve, is of striking haijnony and beauty. The ceiling,
in teak wood magnificently sculptured, is supported by
massive columns which form sculptured arches. Ib floor
is inlaid with lapis-lazuli, amber, carnelian, and jasper.
The doors, an assemblage of silver, rosewood, teakwood
and ivory, are veritable works of art.
Then, it is the banqueting hall, followed by a suite
of halls, the armoury, the portrait gallery.
Lastly, we come to the Hall of Caskets. A superb
Qollection of boxes of ebony, sandalwoqd, sculptured "and
inlaid with gold, silver, turquoise, and with a whole gamme
of precious stones. They are of all sizes. Iq my mind
there looms the image of the old treasure casket glimpsed
long ago in the sombre little shop of Oriental curios far
away over there in a Western town bcfeide the great sails
of the sea. . . .In this palace, before my eyes are displayed
all these marvellous treasure boxes the passing fancy of a
Maharajah dwelling in a fairy palace in the heart of India.
We leave these halls, each one more sumptuous than
the other, and pass into the courts, full of silence and cool-
ness, where at sunrise the sacred bulls and elephants come
to roam. From them, we enter enchanted and fragrant
MYSORF 5 5
gardens where roses marry with giant cannas.
Far wyxf, commanding the town and the palace, is the
Hill of the goddess Chamoundi, she who watches over
Mysore. .
* * *
At five o'clock in the evening, our friend the Brahman
comes to look for us at our hotel. With him we drive by
car to the royal palace, from where the procession will
start. We make our way with difficulty through the
crowds, already very dense. Under a sky, green-orange,
like translucid nacre, the palace, glowing with the lustre
of the setting sun, seems almost unreal in its splendour so
heavy with wealth.
With our friends, we proceed to the offices of Agricul-
ture, situated in the exterior environs of the palace. We
find there other Hindu guests: men turbanned, dressed in
their ceremonial costumes, wnite trousers fitting closely
from $ie*lHnee, long black redingote; women in Saris, little
giils with their spark of diamond set in one nostril of
their tiny nose; young girls with garlands of jasmine in their
hair, scented with sandalwood oil. All await the depar-
ture of the procession with tranquil joy. We have been
iven some privileged places from where to watch this
azzling display of an Oriental procession.
^We look at tfae crowd which ceaselessly moves to and
fro in the environs of the palace. It is an Indian crowd.
There are. the rich and the poor, Brahmans and "un-
touchables," poor pariahs ostracised by their brothers.
Even the poorest have washed their clothing or their best
sari. Over ther,*is an old woman, a very old grand-
Smother. She still has a.proud allure in her much-worn blue
sari. She holds by the hand her little grand-daughter in a
yellow sari. The child's beautiful eyes shine like carbun-
cles. 'There is no impatience in this crowd. But do not be
deceived. It is not amorphous or insensible. Like all
Crowds, its human passions would need but to be aroused.
Man is everywtysre man.
56 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
Soon it is six o'clock. The molten rays of the setting
sun have turned to violet and mauve.* Frdm the palace
come the cavaliers which form the Maharajah s personal
guard. ,They are going to line up on the square. Bands-
men of the little army play naive airs, sometimes warlike.
They are dressed in a shirt and khaki knickers and on their
heads are majestic turbans. Others have long red or green
tunics. A breeze rises, making the banderol on each one
flap. On each baaderol, the ancient symbol of the swas-
tica is designed. Now the dignitaries of the town assemble
and await the arrival of the Maharajah. They are follow;- ,
ed by servants carrying baskets filled with garlands of jas-
mine and roses. The cavaliers' horses paw the ground with
impatience. Disdaining etiquette, they accomplish, in
spite of all, their necessary needs. But attentive servants
with willow baskets precipitate themselves behind the
animak and, with their hanfis, fill their baskets with the nor-
mal residue of assimilated food. All must be perfectly
clean, tha^: is the order. The eyes of the sovereigfTmust not
rest on anything fouled. *
A silence. Then, a hymn is heard. The procession
moves forward in order to parade along the streets of the
town. On magnificent horses, lancers open the march.
The band follows them. Afterwards comes the personal
guard of the Maharajah. With slow and swinging steps,
a caravan of camels advances, their prpud heads oSried
high as if to inhale the desert air; on them are mounted
soldiers with long, white gaiters. More and more lancers
with their martial allure. Then come the elephants of
procession. They advance majestically from the palace
all harnessed with precious stuffs, whidi however allow
one to see the designs painted on thf ir hide and trunk. Th
fires of the setting sun reflect in their gold harness and
sjmtkle in the precious stones which form a diadem
around their head. Two of them carry thrones of gold,
magnificently sculptured; another, a gracious palanquin
which sways gently as he walks. On the elephants closing
the procession, officers are seated in gildecj chairs, erect and
MYSORE 57
impassive, with long lances in rfheir hands.
The yolrd trills imperceptibly. Maharajah Krishna-
raja Wadiyar Bahadour appears. He advances alone on his
horse. His bearing is very noble and simple, that pf a great
gentleman. His fine face, adorned by a little moustache,
is still young. His eyes are large and contemplative. He
is dressed in a sumptuous lame 9 costume of green and gold.
The procession stops. The dignitaries come forward to
present their homage to their sovereign, while garlands of
flowers are offered and rose petals strewn around the Maha-
Qtjah. It is a vision of fastuous India, of India millenary.
But towards him, simple and beautiful, ascend like precious
incense, the love and respect of his people.
The procession, in deep silence, recommences its
march. Behind the sovereign, follows his green and gold
carosse drawn by four horses. This long line of
legendary -beings continues to parade along the r venues '
even yhen evening has fallen over the town en fete and
torch^ and lights are kindled. In the distance, profiled
against a star-spangled sky, the heights of Chamoundi
Hill glow and the palaces of Mysore, the Charmeress,
sparkle with all the fairy resplendence of the Arabian ^
Nights.
While the crowd disperses, the faithful bring garlands
of jasmine to the little temple of Ganesha. A Hindu
pntSt lays them %t the feet ot the god, which one can just
perceive in the gloom at the back of a little niche, among
the flames, of oil lamps. This priest is half naked; his
head is shaved except for a strand of hair hanging from
the back of his head; a dhoti enwraps his waist, his legs
and feet being bait. He returns, carrying a copper plate
containing flaming hqly oil. The devotees each give
their obole, of course, then touch the flame and receive
the oil in the hollow of their hands, which they then carry
to the centre of their forehead and to the top of their head.
But it is time to go and find the procession at Govern-
jment House, where we shall again be the guests of the
Maharajah. We^ meet the long file, which extends for
58 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
several miles, lighted ^ith lanterns and torches. From
the crowd come gay murmurs. We -arrive just at the
moment when the Maharajah dismounts from his horse
in order^to be received by the Dewan, the first Minister.
Two giants, decorated with gold, mount guard at
the foot of the staircase. The guests make a salute of
honour to Sri Krishnaraja Wadiyar Bahadour. He bows
slowly and then passes through our midst in order to show
himself in the salons of Government House. During
this moment of rest, we go into the vast tents, lighted
by electricity, where we are served with tea, pistachip
ices, rose-flavoured cakes, cigars, and cigarettes
Afterwards, in order to complete the fete, we go to the
field of manoeuvres where the revue of honour is to be
held.
Night, a vast quadrangle, hardly lighted. Ift the
distant, the clinking o lances. Suddenly, * the field,
the tribute are illuminated by powerful projectors. In
front of the tribune can now be seen a mass of 4ndian
cavaliers, standards flying in the wind. An officer *on
horseback presents himself before the Maharajah's tribune.
At a sign from the Monarch, a bugle sounds. The whole
mass of horses begins to move and, little by little, it becomes
an epic gallop. In the bright light of the projectors, the
various-coloured uniforms, lances, harness, sparkle and
glow like precious gems.
While the fete is terminating, I gaze for the last time
at this crowd in the hot Indian night, these yoting Hindu
girls with sprays of jasmine twined in their beautiful black
hair, all faces turned towards the Majj^rajah in his long
green tunic interwoven with gold, like a god, motion-,
less, dreaming
* * *
The following morning, we set out for Chamoundi
Hill. We pass the Lalitha Mahal, the palace of guests,
surrounded by immense flower gardens. We reach the
base of the hill and the car speedily climbs the route which
MYSORE 59
zigzags upwards to the tempi*.
We cpmt to a little wooded plateau where we have
to leave the car. The sky is radiantly pure in this beauti-
ful hot morning. A strong wind blows in the^rees but
does not succeed in troubling the deep peace which reigns
in this place. At our feet extends the vast plain of Mysore,
the town, the palaces. Behind us, on a small square,
begins a large staircase made of steps of stone,
mounting to the summit of the hill where it ends near
the temple. We climb it, passing buffaloes descending
. peacefully. At two-thirds or the way up, on a terrace
of earth we find ourselves before a colossal statue repre-
senting a Nandi-Bull, the sacred bull. He is in a sitting
posture. His proportions are harmonious. Arbund
the stone balustrade protecting him, some faithful are
placing garlands of flowers. Without doubt, a blind
adoration to a divinity of ston^ but which should "Signify
homage to the power that it represents, that is to $ay, gene-
ration* under its two aspects cosmic generation and
, human. It was the same with Apis in ancient Egypt.
A few moments later, we are before the temple dedi-
cated to Chamoundi. It is our first contact with a Hindu
temple. This one is not a large temple, like those of
Madura, Tanjore, or Chidambaram, but what sweetness
emanates from this modest little temple cloistered in
palSf trees! On the unique gopuram a tower in the form
of a pyramid is sculptured, besides other divinities,
goddess Chamoundi, painted in blue and yellow, the
tutelary deity of the Maharajahas of Mysore. She re-
presents, as do all the feminine Hindu deities, the Sbakti,
the occult power of god, one of the forces of nature which
Mrork in the invisible, world.
We have not the right to enter the Temple, but we
regard the coming and going of the pilgrims: people from
the village around the temple or people from the plain.
We see them traverse the temple courts and, at the back,
between the rows of columns, disappear into the sanctuary.
Above the temple, crows the eternal crows of India
60 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
wheel, cawing. They dp not, any more* than the wind,
succeed in troubling the peace, the deep f>eact of the hill of
Chamoundi.
We jpass among the few houses of the poor village.
From those who pass, kindly smiles greet us. A cow which
we meet seems, she also, to welcome us with sympathy.
Beasts, things, and people reflect what is there, in this
sanctuary; what is there also, beyond time and men ....
We had thought that some weeks later would begin
our pilgrimage to the temples of the South, but we know
now that it has already commenced on the hill of Cha-
moundi.
In the evening, we climb again to the summit
of Chamoundi Hill. A hot wind watts to us faint noises
from the town. Mysore is there, at our feet, in the faerie
of its sparkling palaces, its fragrant gardens, its eochan-
ting glory. This is the JBast. This is India,, "tranquil
and immutable, " in the vertigo of the world; but it is also
the India r which advances always along the road of Time.
Goodbye, Mysore the Charmeress, Mysore with a
name as sweet as honey! We shall come back to thee
later on. We shall return to meditate in the shadow of
the temple of Chamoundi the goddess.
CHAPTER V
i
THE MYSTERIOUS BLUE MOUNTAINS
BRAHMA having become enamoured of his own
daughter, Ushas (the dawn), he took the form of
a stag and Ushas that of a hind. Together they
committed the first sin. Witnesses of this profanation,
the gods were so terror-stricken that, taking by common
accord their most frightful bodies, they procreated Butha-
van, the spirit of evil, with the intention of destroying
the incarnation of the first sin, committed by Brahmd
himself. But Brahmd, recognising his guilt, relented
bitterly and began to chant mantrams or prayers of puri-
fication, and in his grief he let fall a tear on the earth, the
hottest tear that had ever fallen from his eyes. With
this tear, the first sapphire was formed.
If sapphire there be in the vast, fragrant treasure
house of India, it is the one sparkling with pure brilliance
under the form of the Blue Mountains.
JFrom the plain of Mysore, or from the district of
Coimbatore, one *can view these mountains, unreal almost,
wrapped in silence and muslined in blue mists. One
can survey them from no matter which point of the hori-
zon, from the first range or from the summits, from dawn
to dusk, these ippuntains are eternally blue, sometimes
fringed with a gold dust.
" Mysterious mountains, Dwelling of unknown devas,
Mountains of a^ure "
It says truly, the old song of the Malabar Coast.
They are still full of mystery, these Blue Mountains, with
their immense forests of eucalyptus that fill the air with
their spicy aroma. If Devas (Nature spirits ) come to
6z THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
'frolic in their green glares, lit by the sun or the moon,
they certainly bring with them the enchantnfent; of colour
and perfume.
The^ascent to this Blue Eden is made in the "Blue
Mountain Express/' pompous name with which to desig-
nate the little mountain train, which the Swiss could almost
envy for the hardiness of its railway that mounts to the
conquest of the summits by means of vertiginous viaducts
and long tunnels. From the station of Mettupalaiyam
to Ootacamund (Ooty in abbreviation), terminus of the
Nilgiris railway (Nilgiris means Blue Mountains), it is
about a three-hours' journey. Mettupalaiyam is a char-
ming locality, hidden under exuberant tropical vegeta-
tion.
At the start of the ascent, one has a vision of palms,
banana trees, bamboos, which, little by little, gives 'place
to on* of enormous eucydyptus trees. There are no
partitions^ in the narrow coaches and, from our places,
we can look at the usual spectacle of Indian trains: a /:rowd
of Indians of both sexes, children, all chattering in the
hot sun of a radiant June morning. The slopes of the
Blue Mountains are steep and the puffing or the little
engine gives us the opportunity to enjoy leisurely the
beautiful views over the deep ravines where crystal sources
sing, to look at the peaceful lakes, the waterfalls cascad-
ipg from crevises in the rocks, the plantations of tea*and
coffee, and, on the railway banks, the lovely red patches
of colour made by flowering lantana. As we ascend, the
air becomes fresher. We put on our pullovers.
We come to Coonoor at an altitude of 5,600 feet,
a hill station during the monsoon. After this halt, we
clamber up the last steeps which lead to Ootacamund.
Forests of eucalyptus and pines encircle us and refresh
us with thek pungent aroma. Brooks sing among the
fragrant grass, enamelled with flowers, while on the azure
of the sky is sketched in vague roundels the summits of
the Blue Mountains. We catch a glimpse of a small lake,
and immediately afterwards is Ootacqpiund at 7,250
THE MYSTERIOUS BLUE MOUNTAINS 63
feet. The town is shelved on \njpoded steeps in an eter-
^nal springjimfc. .
The luggage packed in, we start off by car for the
bungalow, situated at some miles from Ooty. J0n this
high plateau, the road, bordered on the right by high
hills, follows the contour of the mountain which is covered
with dense forests. On the left, the view is more spaci-
ous and extends over a range of mammiform hills, the
summits of which are tufted with sparse eucalyptus slan-
ted by the wind. We pass some carts harnessed with
.buffaloes. Then, the route enters the eucalyptus forest.
An elbow bend, a wooden gate, an immense garden enclos-
ed by huge dark-green trees and giant eucalyptus it is
the bungalow enveloped in silence.
* * *
From fhe day after our arrival, a magnificent ^con-
cert of birds awakens me at sunrise every morning. A
mali (girdener ) enters noiselessly to kindle the firtf of great
^eucjtlyplus logs, from which exhales their wholesome
'odour. Mornings and evenings are cold at this altitude.
In the large garden which encircles the bungalow,
there is nothing but a profusion of flowers: hortensias,
fushias, giant geraniums, heliotrope, multi-coloured lions'
, mouths, verbena, bushes of roses, all mingling their per-
fume- with that of carnations, jasmine, mimosa, when,
it is in bloom (which will be in a month's time), and for-
ming a floral splendour at an altitude of nearly 2,700
metres.
I climb on to a hillock behind the bungalow. There,
I discover differeiif neighbouring summits. Apart from
the rustling of the wind .in the trees, what a silence! Be-
hind me is a nearly impenetrable forest, the haunt of
chittas (a kind of leopard), and chacals, sometimes of
tigers. 'Before me and below me, the tranquil bungalow
from where blue smoke rises, the morning fires. In
front of me, far away, the undulating wooded crests of
mountains and in a gap, through a veil of blue muslin,
64 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
I think to glimpse the plain of Mysore and the hill of
Chamoundi the goddess. * 9
For some weeks, we roam the roads and narrow
footpatbs of the Blue Mountains. We make our way into
the forests, we clamber to the summits, or we go to Ooty's
Botanical Garden, a veritable earthly paradise, with its
enormous lilies that can be found in the clefts of the moun-
tains, its cedar trees, its lotus floating on the mirror-like
surface of pools. The most various and most rare species
of trees have been assembled there, as well as an infinite
variety of fragrant flowers and shrubs.
We also pay some visits to the market of Ooty. This
market is very amusing. In it are heaped vegetables
of East and West, sumptuous fruits, from pineapples and
mangoes to wild strawberries and juicy raspberries. In
another corner of the market, all kinds of things are sold:
rice, 'grains, spices, copper vessels We Ikiger before
the little shop of a young n-year-old merchant, ^beauti-
ful as a god, with a smile which would turn pale tfce most
loveljr of the Apsaras daughters of pleasure in Indra's
Paradise.
Further on, outside the market, is the bazaar, the eternal
bazaar. At first we come to the little shop of the copper-
smith, vibrating with the sound of light little hammers
from which are born aiguieres with slender, elegant shapes
*vases, cups, shining resplendently. ,Then comes the
jeweller; he sells silver girdles, bracelets, earrings, pins
for saris. The merchants sit on their heels on.small mats.
One with a white beard and a majestic turban has some
little scales beside him where in which he weighs the sil-
ver girdles, turquoises, and sapphires from Ceylon.
In the animated street, a sound of music. It is a
procession in honour of a god which is being carried with
solemnity to the temple . ^
After these various diversions, towards evening,
we wend our way back to the bungalow. It is the solemn
hour, stirring, this one which passes each day just before
twilight steals softly over everything, heralding the coming
. THE MYSTERIOUS BLUE MOUNTAINS 65
f
of night. It is the hour when thfe setting sun spreads his '
mantle of % fitfe and gold over the blue mists of the moun-
tains. All is hushed, all will soon fall asleep. On the road,
some buffaloes linger to grare'wild plants. Thgi, from
the darkening forest there rises a sound, a sound which
grows and echoes through the ravines. It stops an ins-
tant, then begins again, louder. It comes nearer. It
seems as if one hears sobs. It is the chacals* hour. At
nightfall, they leave their repair in the forest and come in
pack to the villages and solitary houses in search of food.
Jfcis better to go indoors. It is the chacals* hour, but it
is also the hour of recollection. Doors and windows
closed, one turns within oneself to recollect. Then,
night comes over the mountains, night with sparkling stars,
or night with a faerie moon, the majesty of which becomes
more vivid when there passes the wind from the summits,
the wind from the Blue Mountains. ... +
An .incident yesterday. During the course of the after-
noon, ^hile I was reclining on the hillock behind the
buagalow and listening to the silence, I saw a tawny patch
going noiselessly across the sloping field which borders
the rarest. I half raised myself. I did not realise exact-
ly what was happening. Doubtless, an enormous dog!
All at once, I guessed. It was a chitta which attacks cattle
as well as man. It was fat, short, covered with thick,
tawny fur. Turryng its back, it trotted away towards the
tangled undergrowth of the forest. As I was lying on
the grass, sheltered by a bush, it had not seen me. It
walked stealthily, with cat-like steps. On reaching the
limit of the trees, it made a bound and disappeared.
This morning, "I followed a narrow footpath in the
forest. From time to jtime, I stopped to listen to die
joyous little chant of the humming birds or to admire
the views over the valleys. Suddenly, I had the pre-
sentiment that I was not alone, that there was someone
not far from me. However, the silence, broken only by
the songs of birds and the sharp little tapping on the trees
of the woodpeckers, continued to be as profound. I
66 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
\
<
was thrilled. At a bend in the path, without a sound,
a man of antique beauty appeared. We Vas walking
barefooted, clad in a kind of Roman toga of undyed wool,
with one end passing under his right arm and thrown over
his left shoulder. In his hand, he carried a cane of carved
wood, bearing strange inscriptions. He was tall and his
features recalled the classic purity of the ancient Greeks*.
His long black hair fell almost over his eyes and into his
neck, while a beard and a thick moustache framed his
light-complexioned face. As he came nearer, I could
see his eyes, great brown eyes reflecting blue and fillqd
with a gentle regard that rested on me as he passed. He
smiled with a childlike expression and, with his velvet
steps, went on his way and disappeared in the forest.
A Toda. The thought leaped into my mind. I
have just seen a Toda. From the moment of my return
to thfc-bungalow, I furnisked myself with books from the
library and buried myself in the study of this mysterious
tribe of the Blue Mountains. During the days which follow-
ed, we visited some Toda villages situated on a wooded
hill.
It is curious to note that, in spite of the millions of
European residents who have sojourned in India, so little
is known about the Todas. It is but a century ago, how-
ever, that two courageous English officers, while exploring
this mountainous region of India, discovered a strange
race quite distinct from other Indian tribes. The dis-
covery appeared unbelievable at the time of * which we
speak. Fantastic stories circulated: it was said that a
terrestrial paradise had been discovered, where ambro-
sial zephyrs caressed the exhausted * travellers; a tribe
of demi-gods reigned in the solitudes of the forests; the
tpagicians of the country did not marry, nor did they die;
among these beings were giants, as well as dwarfs; some
of them performed miracles.
Although these statements were for the most part
exaggerated, we must stress the fact that even today the
Todas continue to be very mysteriouf . According to
. THE MYSTERIOUS BLUE MOUNTAINS 6j
information obtained from a gcA>d source and from my '
own persQna? observation, I am certain that the Nilgiris
furnish material for reflection.
The number of Todas would appear to be. limited.
They are seen in groups of five or six at a time. All those
whom we met were handsome and recalled to mind the
Statues of Phidias or of Praxiteles. The women, dressed
in the same way as the men, are less beautiful and smaller.
The Todas that can be seen at Ootacamund construct
their dwellings in out-of-the-way places. These dwellings
e composed of ^uts, semi-cylindric in form,, estab-
lished in circular excavations and surrounded \by a
low wall. The huts have no windows but singly a
small opening through which the occupants have to
crawl in order to enter the interior. In the dim light,
against the wall opposite the entrance, can be seen a fire-
place whidi serves for cookingrfbod; on the right, v^large
slab of stone, raised, where all the family sleep; on the
left, seme utensils, a stool, some dusters, some clothing
material. Although the Todas are not a nomadic tribe,
they often change their place of residence in order to seek
in the Nilgiris better pastures for their buffaloes.
From where do they come? What is their origin?
In this respect, ethnologists are of different opinions,
except on one point, that the Todas do not belong to
ordinary humanity. It is undeniable that they descend
from primitive races and even from prehistoric races.
However, we must admit that there are Todas and Todas,
that those ordinarily seen on the heights at Ootacamund,
if they are Todas by birth, are not the purest specimens.
The real Todas, it'Ts said, have refuged themselves from the
invasion of Westerners .in inaccessible places of the Blue
Mountains; in those vast spaces where there is still neither
route jior village, where there reigns only the silence of
solitudes.
It is to these pure, these real Todas, that must be
attributed the extraordinary and supernatural side of
their life. According to certain witnesses, the Todas
68 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
!
themselves maintain that they have absolute rights over
the Blue Mountains, that they consider thefn to be their
secular property. They possess very particular knowledge
which proves their descent from very ancient races. They
are, in truth, a patriarchal tribe living according to severe
and high principles. Their writing is composed of signs
resembling the cuneiform inscriptions of ancient Persia'.
Their religion is infinitely purer than what some
writers have wrongly described as the adoration of sacred
buffaloes." If the buffalo plays a role in their ceremonies,
it is because there is a profound meaning in this, whioh,
is hidflen from the vulgar, as we shall see.
^f, o '
ffodas are divided into two distinct groups. The
first group is composed of the class of the priests. These
are vowed to the service of the buffaloes. They are bound
to absolute celibacy and their cult is very esoteric; n6 pro-
fane feis ever been able totdiscover it. The second group
is formecj of the ordinary class of laics. All efforts attemp-
ting to penetrate the secret of their language and their
customs have been in vain. When they converse with
other tribes or with foreigners, they employ the Kanari
dialect.
Todas disdain jewels. They drink only pure milk,
and eat no animal flesh whatever. No ferocious beast
ever attacks a real Toda or devours any of his animals.
They are the children of a chosen sect, set apart from their
infancy for religious purposes.
As regards their moral life, it presents characteristics
that our civilisation, called Christian, would do well to
adopt. Todas love truth; they do not know how to lie.
Stealing, misappropriation, is unknown to them. Christian
missionaries in the Nilgiris have .been so struck by their
moral character that they have often given to their faith-
ful, as example, the morality of the Todas. Besid.es this,
they possess neither weapons nor knives. They have,
then, resolved to their advantage the question of peace
unarmed. .
Something peculiar to their religion, is that the word
. THE MYSTERIOUS BLUE MOUNTAINS 69
"God" does not exist in it. They are, then, material- J
ists? By fio* means. They refuse, simply, to accept the
idea of an anthropomorphic God. In their religious and
entirely secret ceremonies, which take place in a ^dwelling
previously purified and illuminated by little lamps, their
theurgy is allied to that ancient wisdom, called white magic,
which is found in the very old Chaldean and Egyptian
magic. Their learning, acquired by research and purity of
life, serves humanitarian ends, as the healing of the sick.
Todas are, then, idealists and spiritualists and believe in
t^ie survival of their interior being.
Yes, the Blue Mountains are singular. Mysterious
.are those beings who believe in truth and peace and who
have for their dwellings solitude and silence. Enchanted
mountains! You guard your secret. Perhaps it is better
so. You let only your glories be seen; your proud and
wild aspedt when the mountains are lashed by mufesoon
winds> or your beauty glistening with light at the moment
of freh and dazzling dawns or of mystic sunsets draped
in* gold and blue. You let the laughing valleys be seen
displaying their nonchalant grace, cradled by the humming
of the iridescent colibris; the paths bordered with bushes
of wild jasmine exhaling their pervasive perfume, while
Toda buffaloes roam in the thickets in search of nourish-
ment. But sometimes, along the flowering hedges or the
dewy paths in the. vast forests of eucalyptus and pines, from
the stillness there come murmurs, mysterious and gentle
whispers, a rustling in the leaves. Then, all fades into
silence, there is nothing but the pure fragrant air from the
summits. Blue fountains 1 Strange land, where vio-
lets and lotus are neighbours, where Todas observe their
religious and secular ceremonies in solitudes far from the
whirlpool ot life, while birds mingle their song with the
sobs of chacals and the music of joyous cascades ....
A dream, perhaps! Beauty certainly.
PART n
CHAPTER VI
THE MESSAGE OF INDIA'S TEMPLES
VERY early in the morning, in radiant weather, we
set out on our pilgrimage to the . Temples of the
South.
Our car cautiously descends the route zigzagging
down the steep slopes of the Blue Mountains. This
evening, we shall arrive at Madura, at the famous temple
that hundreds of thousands of pilgrims visit each year.
It will be our first stage.
How blue the mountains ar* today, bluer than lisual !
The air is full of a fragrance and the earth, everything,
at this* early hour breathes stillness. After two-and-a
half hours' descent, we find ourselves again amidst all the
tropical vegetation of Mettupalaiyam. We leave behind
us the beautiful chain of the Nilgiris which, little by little
is receding in its muslin of blue mists. For hours and
hours, we roll across the plains and villages of India.
Palm groves bring us their freshness on the way. Far
off, can be perceived here and there, a solitary hill crowned*
by a temple. We traverse a few small towns; one is Din-
digul, with a name that tinkles like a bell. During our
journey through this ever-moving panorama, we reflect
^ipon the message o^ India's temples.
It has been said that certain places of pilgrimage
can be centres of spiritual force from where radiate en-
nobling influences, not perceived by the hurrying traveller.
It is a certain fact that, although some gross super-
stitions are born from this custom of making pilgrimages,
nevertheless, pilgrimages to places really holy symbolize
the life of man, not only from the cradle to the grave, but
also, say the Scqptures of India, embrace the immense
74 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
period of Man's evolution. Nations, races, civilisations
ate bom, grow to maturity, become old. and die,
but the Being within survives. Emanating from the
Great &\\, Man accomplishes his pilgrimage of evolution,
gamers innumerable experiences in the course of ages,
and pursues without ceasing his great voyage towards the
sanctuary from where he issued forth.
Some authors affirm, even, that in India at certain
places of pilgrimage, there dwells one of those Wise Ones
always ready to help the pilgrim who goes there with a
sincere heart. However that may be, it is good perhaps
to remind ourselves that a place of pilgrimage symbolizes
our own nature, our own interior shrine. The ancient
Hindu Gurus had, we are told, an esoteric knowledge of
the links which unite Man to Nature and they commu-
nicated this knowledge to the masses by means of the archi-
tec&re of the temples. ,The temple of flesh, said these
Wise Ones, has a strict analogy to the temple of stone.
A Hindu temple must, then, be the symbolical dwelling
of the Supreme Principle which is within us; Principle from
where we come and where we shall return. The choice of a
rock, a hill, a tower (gopuram), conveys the idea of eternity;
the great mast at the entrance of the temple represents the
creative principle in the human organism; the temple court,
the human lungs. In the centre is the Holy of Holies, the
, heart. In the same way, the symbolism of number which
we find in architecture has its correspondences in the body
of Man. Seven represents the seven orifices of the head,
the seven primitive humanities, the seven worlds....
The Divinities of the Hindu Pantheon sculptured OD
the gopurams or on the walls of the tefnple, whether they
have for name Brahmi, Vishnu, or Shiva, and their spouses,
the Sbakti of each god, symbolize the action of the powers
of Nature in man.
Figures of animals, equally, play an important role
in the temples of India. Horses represent the senses;
the chariot is the mind, always in movement; elephants
symbolise the earth, the material body; the Naga (serpent),
THE MESSAGE OF INDIA'S TEMPLES 75
wisdom; the celestial swan, Garuda, which devours the
serpent, is tlfe cycle of evolution which liberates man
from the manacles of matter. While the lotus, the sacred
flower, is identified with man himself: the roots which
plunge in the mud, representing matter; the stem which
passes through the water, symbolizing man's emotions
and passions; the flower which opens to the sun being
man's soul opening to the realities of the spiritual life.
Those are some of the ideas contained in the message
of India's temples. Message which we are going to try
tc^discern during the course of our pilgrimage. Naturally,
we shall have to brush aside the thick brambles of super-
stition in order to see the supreme realities. Behind the
stones, the columns, and the figures, resides the true
temple, invisible, the interior Sanctuary where shines the
everlasting Flame of the One Absolute, the Divinity.
Let us 'try to act as true pilgrims; that is to say, as
seekers in quest of Truth. Let us rend, if we ^can, the
curtain*of illusion, Maya.
* Over there, on the horizon, towers in the form
of pyramids are profiled against the pure, blue sky, above
the green fronds of palms and white houses half-hidden
under trees. It is Madura and its temple.
CHAPTER VII
EVENINGS AT MADURA, AN ENTRANCING .
VISION OF THE GODS
THE sun has sunk behind the horizon in a green-
orange sky. Palms and coco palms, swayed by the
breeze of the short twilight, are coloured with &ie'
safbe tint, while the copper of the earth becomes more
ardent. Herds of cows and buffaloes plod home to their
stables with slow and ponderous steps. In thatched huts,
women prepare the frugal evening meal. Lights light up
unc&r the great palms ajjd little lamps in bazaar shops
twinkle brightly.
The* thousand-and-one noises of a Hindu tojvn can
be heard: a chant intoned by a woman's voice; the temple,
bell calling to prayer; the hammering of the copper-smiths;
the click-clack of the tongues of the tonga drivers; the
rippling laugh of a child; the crunching of the wheels of a
sugarcane barrow; the hooting of owls; the barking of a
dog; a dispute between monkeys All these sounds
float through the hot night.
Far off, in the silent shining of the moon, soar the
towers, the gopurams, of the great temple of Madura,
dedicated to Shiva one of the most important gods of the
Hindu Pantheon and to Minakshi, his spouse. The at-*
mosphere of the temple pervades the town; it is felt every-
where.
The temple, built in the Dravidian style, stands in
the heart of the city. It dates from the i6th century. In
its enclosure the Palace of Versailles would find itself at
ease. The glory of Madura reaches back to a remote
antiquity. Here formerly radiated a great centre of cul-
ture. The temple is an immense quadrangle divided into
EVENINGS AT MAD1
two principal sanctuaries: one dedic
other to Minafeshi. They are united \
mors galleries, courts, a sacred
(covered halls of which the stone
columns), while hundreds of statues"
the whole being crowned with sever
Stulptured, an entrancing vision of brahmanic
On the threshold of the temple talce off and
leave our shoes; we shall find them again. For no one may
enter the sacred precincts unless he has first removed his
jsboes or sandals. We simply keep on our socks, it will
be cleaner.
From the moment of our entrance into the first gallery,
our glance falls upon the merchants squatting on the ground
(the eternal "sellers in the temple"). They sell baskets
of fruh, garlands of jasmine and roses for offerings teethe
divinities, &nd innumerable other objects. We pass on
and enter the maze of galleries. In dark corners, the
statues* of the gods and goddesses, standing in the most
various attitudes, are rendered more remarkable by the
dim light of the oil lamps. There are some sculptures
representing the birth of Minakshi, the goddess with eyes
like those of a fish. Although the feminine aspect (the
Shakti} of the god Shiva is generally represented under the
1 name of Parvati or of Kali, here she is named Minakshi.
Minakshi is not a# official goddess of the Hindu Pantheon*
but rather a divinity of the village, so greatly venerated
that she has survived in the devotion of the faithful. Then,
continuing our pilgrimage among the gods, we come
to the marriage of Minakshi with Shiva, followed by the
birth of their son,*Subramanyam. Further on, is a statue
of their other son, Ganesha, the god whose head is like
that of an elephant.
W? step out now into a spacious interior court bathed
in the silver of the moon. Under a light roof, a crowd
of listeners is seated on the ground and listening to the
descriptive recitation in Sanskrit of passages of the
whicl^are immediately translated into Tamil.
78 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
All, men and women, follow mentally the peripetiae of the
heroes of this great epic. 4
After crossing the court, we penetrate once more into
the sombre galleries of the temple. How impressive are
the great, tall, sculptured pillars in the dim, flickering light
of the lamps I Along these monumental galleries, one per-
ceives among the shadows a little shrine to a god or a
goddess, a lingam in black stone, representing the creative
force in Nature.
Suddenly, we come out into the clear, cloudless night,
before a vast pool mirroring the stars. Steps of stcnq
descend towards the still waters. It is the sacred tank of
the Gold Lotus. Under the surrounding arcades, pilgrims
are lying on the stone slabs, sleeping. One meets them
everywhere, these immobile forms, enveloped in white
shawls; they are in all the galleries. Other pilgrims, even
at tfiis late hour, are still plunged in deep "meditation.
There a$e also some who recite mantrams in a low voice.
All calm in the company of the gods. <
Morning has come. We can see now the temple in.
its immense proportions. Around the red-hued gopurams
clouds of crows are wheeling and saluting with their raucous
caw-caws the radiant dawn of day. In the interior courts,
* sacred elephants, led by their keepers, pace majestically
towards their daily bath. These brave animals serve to
carry the divinities in the various processions. They
are nearly as much venerated as Ganesha, the god of wis-
dom, who, having lost his head, replaced it by the heacfr
of an elephant.
This morning, a powerful, and prodigious activity
throngs the temple. In the Daedalian network of endless
galleries, although obscure even in daylight, pne can
distinguish better the lofty columns with their multiplicity
of sculptures, the statues, and the bas-reliefs where the
great epics of the gods since the formation of worlds are
narrated in stone. We walk amongst the^ods. Here, it is
EVENINGS AT MADURA 79
t
Brahma, Vishnu. There, Shiva and Minakshi, or Parvati;
then, the two goddesses, Lakshmi and Saraswati, the former
presiding over the cult of Beauty and Prosperity, the second,
the goddess of esoteric Wisdom. In a very dark corner,
we find ourselves before the shrine of the Nine Planets,
where garlands of freshly-gathered flowers have been laid.
Then is seen the sacred Nandi, the bull, symbol of repro-
duction, encircled by a grille and canopied by a massive
cupola of sculptured stone. What exuberance there is in
these sculptures ! The silent contemplation of a god
pegghbours with the choir of Gandharvas, celestial musicians
of Indra's court, who reveal to mortals the secrets of Heaven
and Earth and the harmonies of esoteric science; they are
also the guardians of the sacred plant, Soma^ whose juice
possesses occult properties. Or, it is the dance of the
Apsaras, water nymphs of radiant beauty; or again,y:he
battle agaiiftt Mara the demon and his legions, personifi-
cations of man's vices: the eternal war between spirit and
matter.* All the heroes of the Mahabharata are there,
represented on the walls and pillars under the most varied
forms, in a movement and an art of extraordinary power.
At the end of a gallery, a splendour floods over
us. It is the tank of the Gold Lotus, glinting now with
the sun's dazzling gold. On the stone steps, a dense crowd
of pilgrims: sannyasis, ascetics of India; mendicant friars in
their yellow robes, all with brilliant eyes, long hair, and
thick beards, and wearing on their breasts necklaces of
amber or tulsitt beads. Some of them are drying themselves
after their ablutions, others are going to prostrate themselves
before Minakshi, Shiva, Ganesha, or to meditate at the foot
of a column. They have come from far, very far, from the
centre or the North of .India, from the confines of the
Himalayas. All this crowd of men, women, children, go
noiselessly from one sanctuary to another, bathe in the sacred
pool, listen to the prophesies of an astrologer or to the les-
sons of a guru, a spiritual guide. The sanctuary receiving
all the favours is that of Minakshi. She listens graciously,
it is said, to all siqpere wishes. One should see these long
80 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
r
files of people, clothed in white garments or in gay-coloured
saris, carrying on copper trays their offerings to the god-
dess: some fruit, coconuts, garlands of flowers. They are
surprising to watch, these pilgrims, above all the poor,
those who have nothing but who hope. . . .In silence, sim-
ply, without haste, with their supple steps they enter the
gallery leading to the sanctuary of Minakshi or of Shiva
and after some moments they return, happy, peaceful,
their hope replenished.
Evening has come round again, and with it our
wonderment is renewed. Oh ! the evenings at Madura,
how instinct they are with mighty philosophy behind the
curtain of illusion.
r A nocturnal life commences in the temple, distinct
froiri that of the day. Groups of pilgrims cluster in the
galleries or under the arcades around the sacred tank of
the Gold Lotus. One hears calm conversations, tales
of pilgrimages, discussions on the Scriptures, advice given
by those who are believed to be gurus. Other pilgrims
isolate themselves on the threshold of a sanctuary, under
the sculptured figure of a god. In the silence, swarms
of bats sweep along the galleries in a whirring of wings,
brushing the lingams and the gods.
Suddenly, from one of the galleries there floats
strange music, composed of tom-toms, cymbals, flutes, and
long clarionets. It precedes a long, impressive proces-
sion of women, young Hindu girls, dressed in saris, yellow,
red, or blue, with sprigs of jasmine twined in their hair;
then come ascetics, naked to the waist, wearing long,
dingling necklaces around their, emaciated necks. Brah-
mans follow, wearing the sacred thread of their caste, and
chanting mantrams. It is the god, Shiva, who is carried each
evening, amidst great pomp to the dwelling of his spouse,
Minakshi. The god, on a palanquin hung with glowing
red draperies, is borne on the shoulders of young Brahmans.
The procession advances among the sculptured pillars under
EVENINGS AT MADURA 8 1
the eyes of the goSs and, little by little, winds away into
the distance towards the mysterious sanctuary of the god-
dess, while within the temple all grows still, all sinks into
silence. Amid the quivering flights of bats, sannyasis
keep vigil, watching ever in contemplation and Madura
falls asleep in the shelter of its gods and goddesses. But
oyer all the stars sparkle with ardent brilliance in a nearly
azure sky.
Shiva, Minakshi 1 What grand symbols are enshrined
in dead letters and temple stones I Shiva, the Fire of life,
is the Creator and the Destroyer, but he is also the Re-
g^herator. He regenerates Man who journeys along the
road of life. This is the reason why Shiva is represented
as the Patron of all ascetics. And Minakshi, she who
grants all favours, the goddess with eyes like those of a fish,
she alsp has a legend. An ancient belief says that the female
fish has but; to look at her eggs in order that they became
fecund. In the same way, devotees of Minakshi say that
when Shiva turns his eyes towards the adorers of the
go4desfc, immediately the spiritual life is born in them.
What then is the mysterious bond which unites Shiva to
Minakshi for such a spiritual fecundation to be produced ?
Minakshi is the feminine aspect of Nature, the Shakti.
She is the link between man and the highest aspect of life.
She is the energy of the gods. Shiva himself is the living
Fire gf Spirit in each being; Minakshi is the energy of
Shiva. Seeing th5t these different deities represent uni-'
versal forces at work, not only in Nature but also in every
being, we can easily imagine what Hindu philosophy has
Always taught: in essence, man is divine. The purpose
of evolution is to find, by our own efforts, the divine power
of life in ourselves. As said Pythagoras, who came to
India in search of knowlfedge> **Man must first become a
man and afterwards a god."
Oh 1 pilgrims to Madura, or to other shrines, while
your ascetics are keeping vigil in the immense temple, could
ycoi but realise in your inner life, not only the selfish
dream of a Swarw, a personal paradise, but the victory of
82 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
i
Spirit over Matter ? You would thus show to the men of
all nations, victims of the vertigo of the worid, that at the
heart of life there dwells a Unique Power which brings to
birth the law of brotherhood, the Brotherhood of Men.
H6w grand is the lesson of the evenings at Madura 1
CHAPTER VIII
THE TEMPLE OF RAMESHWARAM
IN THE MORNING
AT the extreme South of India is a little island, joined
to the mainland bv an iron bridge which crosses
an arm of sea. It is Rameshwaram, the spot where
the Gulf of Bengal mingles its waters with those of the
Indian Ocean.
A glorious sun splendours the temple, while a strong
wind* blowing from Ceylon swings the coco palms. Quite
near, the 'Ocean, as green and beautiful as an emerald,
chants its eternal poem.
On this clear morning, the temple of Rameshwaram
offers to the pilgrims a procession in honour of Rama and
Sita, the heroes of the }Lamayana. Leading the procession
is a youth mounted on a poney and drumming with batons
on two big tom-toms attached to his saddle. Two sacred
elephants follow, adorned with flowing draperies. After
them come shrines of gold on stately palanquins con-
taining the statryes of Ganesha, Subramanyam, and lastly
those of Rama and Sita, borne on the shoulders of men.
A band, ^composed of long clarionets, flutes, cymbals,
tom-toms, plays with syncopated rhythm. Then, closing
*the march come Brahmans hand in hand chanting mantrams,
versets of ancient invocations. On the road which sur-
rounds the temple, amid*the screeching of parrots and the
cawing of crows, the crowd hastens with devotion to render
homage to the gods, to Rama and Sita. From time to time,
the procession stops. Before the houses, brahman priests
present the sacred fire on a copper plate and break a coconut
tttat has been previously blessed in the temple; the milk
is then spilled cjver the threshold of the dwelling where
84 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
c
garlands of flowers are designed in white or ochre powder.
What touching poetry, to see on the thresholds of their
homes these women, these young girls, wearing on them,
perhaps,*, all their fortune in bracelets of copper, silver,
or gold, sprigs of jasmine entwined in their glossy hair;
men of all ages; gracious children; all these beings lifting
their joined hands to their foreheads in sign of respect and
reverence ! In the glowing sun, the lofty mass of the tem-
ple rises with its finely sculptured gopurams. Nearby, the
sea is breaking over the sand in spray, irised by the
thousand fires of the sun.
Here, we are in one of the most revered sanctuaries
of India, founded, according to tradition, by Rama himself.
The temple is one of the most beautiful specimens of
Dravidian architecture. Its origin dates back to the
izthvcentury. It is blended with the spiritual atmosphere
that radiates from the histoty of Rama and his chaste spouse,
Sita. When we enter the temple, we recall that the
Ramayana is one of the greatest epic poems of the , world
and that, correctly understood, it leads us, scholars tell us,
to an understanding of the evolution of humanity.
"Divine poem, ocean of milk I"
cried Michelet on discovering this ancient Scripture. The
'Ramayana shows us also, in the story of Rama and Sita, the
ideal of human love, love which is inspired by the noblest
ideas.
The Iliad and Odyssey have touched many Western
hearts; nevertheless, those epic poems which contain so
much truth, when translated into our modern languages, *
fail unfortunately, to influence intimately the lives of peo-
ple. In India, on the contrary, there is scarcely a Hindu
family or dwelling where the divinity of Rama and of
Krishna are not adored; where the chastity of Sity or of
Draupadi is not extolled; or where the courage of Hanuman
the monkey-god who aided Rama to vanquish his ene-
mies is not a subject of conversation. These heroes, ftir-
Hindus, are living personages, as are thoe of the Gospel
RAMESHWARAM 85
for Christians, modelling, kneading India's thought, even 1
in our modftn times of upheavals and violence, andit is they,
these heroes, who preserve perhaps, or who help to pre-
serve, the glory of ancient Aryavarta in the India of today.
The history of Rama and Sita brings us numerous and
precious lessons. None is greater than that of the creation
of a "home" from an ideal model. Political men of India,
at least certain of them, consider with respect what they
call the Ram-Raj, the reign of Rama. And the Hindu, as
also every other individual, must learn that no government
^an be really strong, no society can be harmonious, if they
are not based on the true domestic "home," where reigns
the justice of Rama, where flowers the fidelity, tact, and
delicacy of Sita; a home where the undying love of our
heroes serves as a guide and a light. Why did Rama
accept exile? Why did Sita, his spouse, follow him?
Why dicJ Lakshmana, Rama'st brother, accompany fhem ?
It was not for political reasons, but for the honour of the
family to which they belonged. The Rawayana brings,
then, this message, not only to Hindus, but also to all men.
Without a moral basis, the "home" crumbles into ruins;
and disorder, as well as anarchy, overcomes the state in
which the "home" is destroyed or corrupted.
These few thoughts show us very well what could be
the fragrance of an Dinner life. Ancl it seems that this
fragrance floaty through the temple of Rameshwaram and
over the sweet*city. When one wanders under the palms
on the beach, when one roams through the vast, celebrated
orange galleries of the temple, colour heightened by the
morning sun, when one sits on the edge of the sacred tank
in the laughing Sunlight, when one passes by the spot where
Sita emerged victorious from the test of fire to which she
submitted in order to convince her husband of her purity,
or when one lingers beside the cool source where Rama
washed his hair after his victory over the demon Ravana,
then one feels deeply this special atmosphere which is
an invitation to mike a solemn journey, a pilgrimage to*
wards the centre of oneself: an invitation to live a true
86 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
i
life, simple and pure, enriched by learning, the life taught
to us by the exalted example of Rama and Sita.
We think that for the pilgrim who accomplishes a
pilgrimage to the temple of Rameshwaram pilgrim, we
suppose, freed from religious dogmas and superstition the
example of Rama and Sita may help him to formulate some
sort of interior wish. He will feel that his life should be in
harmony with the life of all, that it should possess this inner
refinement, without which it is impossible to discern the
cause, even, of life, the heart of Nature, which is beatitude
as said Gautama the Buddha. We can develop thi$
refinement, not only in the great events of life, but also in
the least little deeds of our daily life. Could we not incar-
nate, ever so little, the infinite purity of Sita, her grace, her
devotion, her fidelity, her sacrifice, her heart, inspirer of
heroic actions ? And as actions are, in general, but the
reflections of our thoughts,ould we not to giw but one
illustration when offering flowers to a friend, avoid in-
haling their perfume, so that he may have that privilege ?
Little detail, one will say. Agreea. Little detail, if you
like. But the small deeds of life, when they are inspired
by lofty sentiments, are they not the seeds of an inner life
richer, more civilised, so to say ? Every civilisation which
is not based on the culture of the spirit is doomed to perish
in brutality and blood.
^ Oh ! Rama and Sita, noble human heroes, you <who
give the example of a sublime spiritual ideal, in your
atmosphere of peace and infinite tenderness there reigns
a hope, the hope of the regeneration of humanity through
the understanding of these ancient symbols and by their
realisation in the inner lives of men. '
A sweet remembrance of a lupiinous morning spent
in the Temple of Rameshwaram may kindle in us an aspira-
tion to possess the secret of veritable love.
CHAPTER IX
THE ROCK OF GANESHA, THE LAND OF
BHARATA, THE AVATARS OF VISHNU
IT is a long distance from Rameshwaram to Trichino-
poly. A day-and-a-halFs rolling along the routesT of
India. We shall sleep tonight at Tiruppattur.
Very early in the morning, before starting, we hasten
to bid farewell to the sweet city of Rama. Great boats
full of pilgrims are sailing on the sea this morning. We
go onte more through the vast orange-coloured galleries
of th? temftle. We sit for an ir&tant on the edge of the
sacred tank and we think of Sita, of her prodigious ad-
ventures, while the Singhalese wind gently sways the palm
trees.
At the station, we find a young Hindu belonging to
the Kshattriya caste, whom we had met in the temple.
He has come to say goodbye to us, his eyes brimful of tears
at having to leave his new friends.
While waiting for the train, we look at the Hindu
travellers. This spectacle never loses its interest for us.
There they are on the platform in little groups, seated
on the ground beside their metal trunks which contain,
doubtless, all their fortune, for they are always closed with
padlocks. One n^ver knows what may happen ! (I have
never in my life seen so many padlocks !) They chat to
each other while eating their curry on banana leaves.
Where are they going ? To where do all these eternal
travellers in India go?
The train carries us away. In the distance, beside the
emerald ocean, can be seen through the shimmering hot
*3tft the profile of the gopuram above the temple. We cross
over the arm o sea by the iron bridge and then again
88 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
it is almost desert country until we reach Ramnad, a pretty
and ancient little town, where we rejoin our car.
We have to travel over part of the route which we
followed on going to Rameshwaram, route which traverses
beautiful plains of palms. Here and there are ancient
wells which serve to irrigate the paddy fields. Then calm
villages with thatched roofs file past, as well as herds of
goats and buffaloes. Pastoral visions of ancient times.
At Tiruppattur, where we arrive at sunset, we dis-
cover a dak-bungalow on the border of the fields. It is
pretty, this travellers' cottage, with its colonial veranda and
its nice, large rooms. While waiting for our frugal supper,
which Ragwan, our diligent and devoted boy y has gone to
fetch from the village, we visit the small temple dedicated
to Shiva. Some Brahmans welcome us kindly and,
curious thing, they are delighted to learn that Ve are
pilgrims from France. ATittle village, hidden in the depths
of British India, which loves France ! It warms the heart
and also stirs up many souvenirs historical.
After our meal, we saunter for a short distance albng *
the route in the splendid Indian night, regal in its magni-
ficent jewellery of stars. A few moments later, we are
lulled to sleep by the crickets' ceaseless song.
* A swarming and abundant bazaasj a thronglRg of
human lives; peaceable cows which steal without com-
punction, here a fruit, there a vegetable; tongas drawn by
lively ponies trotting rapidly past; an intense heat; it is
the principal street leading to the Rocjc of Ganesha, the
temple of Trichinopoly, which is there at the end of the
Street, on the summit of a rock z6o feet high.
Certain inscriptions in the temple place the date of its
origin as far back as the jth century. While we are
climbing the hundreds of steps that lead up to the galleries
and sanctuaries, we are approached by a Hindu journalist,
correspondent of a well-known Madras journal. He fias
read my articles published in this paper. He knew that we
THE ROCK OF GANESHA 89
should com^here one day. He puts himself at our service
to show us the temple. Marvellous ! News travels fast
in India.
At the entrance of the temple after the ceremony of
the removal of our shoes we find our old and touching
friend, Ganesha, the son of Shiva and Minakshi. As one is
'supposed to do, I greet him by murmuring: "Ganesha
seeks his spouse/' Pathetic and lovable Ganeshal In
this sanctuary, Ganesha is endued with a particular im-
portance, for the temple is dedicated to him. Only here he
i* named Ganapati. We find him everywhere, in all the gal-
leries.
He is lovable, this Ganesha, The first son of Shiva
and Minakshi, he is adored in a special and touching way.
He is the only one among the gods who has no wife. When
the tftne came for him, at the command of his parent, to
take a wife, he answered that he Vould only choose for wife
she who should be comparable to his mother, Minakshi.
So hb mother said to him: "Then go, my son, and seek for
h& thyself/* But the centuries pass and G-anesha never
finds the one who is comparable to his mother. That is
the reason why, at the door of all the temples, one sees the
statue of Ganesha looking attentively at the procession of
passing pilgrims. And they say to him, when saluting him
"Ganesha seeks his wife/*
The devotees of this sanctuary believe that the rock
is one of the peaks of the fabulous Mount Meru, the
legendanf mountain whose base rests, symbolically, in the
centre or the earth and which is the dwelling of the greatest
among the god% and devas (spirits of Nature). Some
authorities say that this mountain exists, as yet undiscover-
ed, among the heights of the Himalayas. In Vedic times,
Mount Meru was the land of happiness. Others think
in accord with the esoteric teaching of the Puranas that
Mount Meru is united with the "Imperishable land," the
"JJThite Island," which was situated in Central Asia at the
time when the Grobi Desert was a vast ocean. At the
present day, ceijain rumours say that this Isle still exists
5>0 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
under the form of an oasis surrounded by the vast-
nesses of the great desert. This "Imperishable Land,"
it is said, is united to the Atma in each man, the spirit.
It is fr*m this sacred land, from this "White Island,"
that all the Avatars of Vishnu the second person of the
Hindu Trimurti have issued, the great Sages of pure heart,
of infinite compassion. A Tibetan tradition even goes sd
far as to say that it is the only terrestrial spot which will
never be destroyed, either by fire or by water, but will re-
main for ever sheltered from men, the barbarians These
profound Puranic speculations in the temple of Ganesha ,
may invite us to study more attentively the history of hu-
manity, the real history, that of its origin and of its progress.
At the summit of the rock, we find a sanctuary con-
taining a statue of Ganesha. From the gallery which en-
circks it, one has a splendid view over the to\tfn of
Trichinopoly and the meanders of the Cauvery, the holy
river. However, without intending anything detrimental
to our good Ganesha, we must say that we do not find here
the atmosphere of Madura or of Rameshwaram. On this
rock, the atmosphere is heavy, suffocating, the remains
probably of ancient and actual superstitions. Neverthe-
ess, the spiritual gifts of Ganesha can always be obtained.
But note ! He promises nothing to those who do not make
an effort to obtain them. It is just, after all. Ganesha
is wise, even in his perpetual search for a wife possessing
the richest gifts of love, tenderness, wisdom, and sacri-
fice. ...
From the Rock of Ganesha, we go to the temple of
Jambukeshwaram, dedicated to tke great god Shiva, which
is situated about a mile from the Rock. This is a beautiful
temple encircled by palm trees. It dates, approximately,
from the eleventh century. It possesses some beautiful
galleries with richly sculptured pillars. In the dimness
of these galleries swarm enormous bats, which hang like
sacks from the ceiling. Sometimes, a nqise disturbs their
fe
THE ROCK OF GANESHA 9!
slumber, then it is a whirring of wings under the sonorous
vaults. *
*- Jambukeshwaram is a double name. Jambu is the
name of a tree. The jambu is much grown in India^and is
a beautiful tree with purple flowers, commonly called the
"Ironwood tree/' The other name is Ishwara, God mani-
fested, the Logos of the Platonists, the Divine Spirit in all
beings. It is also a title given to Shiva.
Moreover, here before us are two bas-reliefs, one re-
presenting the tree Jambu, the other Shiva with his feminine
aspect who in this temple is named Parvati. A great charm
reigns in these galleries and around the sacred tank girdled
by columns. A Brahman offers us some pretty garlands
of carnations, a very fragrant souvenir of this temple in
which lives a deep sentiment of attachment to India, the
Mother. t
In fact,* India owes to the ttte Jambu her old name
of ancient times which is mentioned in the Vishnu Purana:
The sage, Parashara, says in this scripture
that*he earth is composed of seven continents and seven
seas, ]dmbu-dwipa being in the centre of these seas.
"I/ is from the tree jambu that the island-continent called
Jambu-dwipa derives its name"
1 Another name was also given to India, spoken of in the
Vishnu-<9urana y it *^as the name of one of her first Aryan
kings: Bbarata-varsha, the land of Bharata.
"Bbarafa consigned the kingdom to his son, Sumatt^ and
passed the remainder of his life in the sacred place of Salag-
to rama; he was reborn afterwards as a Brahman in a distin-
guished family of ascetics. . . Under these princes (Bharata's
descendants) Bbarata-varsha was divided into nine portions
and their descendants held successively possession of the
country for seventy-one periods of the aggregate of the four
*&*?
renting the Great Cycle, the Mahayuga. Then, the
f ishnu-Purana outpours this sentiment of veneration and
92 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
4
adoration for India, the Mother, in moving terms:
"In Jambu-dwipa, Vishnu (let us remember that BrahmS,
Vishnu, Shiva are, in reality, but one) is the object of the
cult composed of sacrifice; moreover, he is adored in a diversity
of ways. The land of Bharata is thus the best of the divisions
' because it is the land of actions; the other
divisions being but lands of pleasure. It is only after many
thousands of births and after the accumulation of abundant
merits that living beings are sometimes born in the form of
men in the land of Bharata (India). The gods themselves
exclaim: 'Happy are those who are born in the /anS 'of
Bharata -, although they thus lose their rank among the gods^
because to be born in that land is to enter the path which leads
to the joys of paradise or to the still great happiness of
% final liberation" ,
How could one not Be grateful to the temple of Jambu-
keshwaram for recalling to our minds the privilege of being
born in Bharata-varsha y the land of India. Hindus are very
privileged people ! But within this privilege dwelk the
solemn and noble duty of guarding the precious gift re-
ceived.
After the temple Jambukeshwaram, there remains*
to be undertaken a pilgrimage to tJie great temple of
Shrirangam, which is situated on an island in the middle y
of the waters of the Cauvery, where the great thinker
Ramanuja lived.*
This temple is a prodigious assemblage of porticos,
gopurams, mantapams (halls of which the stone roof is sup-
ported by colonnades), and celebrated galleries. In these
galleries, one sees horses rearing with the hoofs of their
forefeet reposing on the fists of bold warriors or on
the heads of tigers with panting flanks, portrayed with
* Ramanuja, "the prince of ascetics/' was one of the farftuus
exponents of the Vedanta.
. THE ROCK OF GANESHA 9*
a movement of remarkable power. In one of the courts,
the enormous Chariot in wood, which serves for proces-
*sions, is literally covered with deities, carved with ar
incomparable art. Then, there is the hall of a thqusanc
pillars, with sanctuaries here and there. Notwithstanding
all this grandeur, one can see that the construction of this
temple has been accomplished over a long period of time,
under the direction of various different kings, and this mars
the symmetry of its structure. From the terrace of the
temple, the view embraces this incongruous architecture,
dppiinated by the great gopurams where hundreds of gods
and goddesses are shelved. Flocks of parrots make a
great din on the mouldings on the walls.
When we redescend into the galleries, we find out
familiar heroes. Everywhere, on the yellow and red pillars,
on the walls, in obscure corners, are %een Rama and Sia.
the Well-beloved; Lakshmana and Hanuman, the monkey-
god. They are all there, with Arjuna and Lakshmi, the
wife of yishnu. In the central nave, on the second row of
^pillars, the ten incarnations on this earth of Vishnu are
represented under the form of great Avatars.
Vishnu is a great god in Hindu philosophy. But,
as one of the Puranic Scriptures says: "Some adore Brahma,
Vishnu, others Shiva. However, let not the devotee make
any difference between the three. " All three are One and
are the * energies,' jthe forces of the Absolute Divinity,
Brahma, without a circumflex accent. Brahma, with a cir-
cumflex accent, being the manifestation of the former in
Time.
% Vishnu, called the Preserver, is often represented
reposing on the setpent of eternity, Sesha, the :
infinite Time in Space. He contains the get v
universe and projects it periodically. Dufiog '
periods pf cosmic activity, represented under the name
Day of Brahmfi the Night of BrahmS, sig&fyiog the reppe
during the dissolution of the worlds Vishnu efids s a
faction of himself into the body of a being worthy ,<
senting this high manifestation of the IXvinity.
94 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
projection, he is able to help men to free themselves from
Maya, earthly illusion, so that they may cntft: the realm of
Sat, Truth. Such is the very profound theory of Avatars:
a man* having become superhuman by his own efforts and
thus capable of being overshadowed by the Spirit of the
Divinity.
And there, before our eyes, are represented the ten
Avatars of Vishnu, among whom are Rama, Krishna, Gau-
tama the Buddha, and Kalki-Avatar. This last one is yet
to come, at the end of our Black Age, Kali Yuga, the Age of
Iron. The Avatar Kalki will not appear on the stag^,of
this world until mankind is ready to receive him. He wifl
be the incarnation of the highest divine qualities. When ?
The answer is hidden in our hearts. All that we can do is
to elevate ourselves without ceasing towards that which is
the most sacred in us, "the Father who is there in the
secret place," the impen>onal and omnipresent Divinity,
who is indicated in this admirable verse of the Vishnu-
Purana which the Vishnuists chant in their religions cere-
monies:
"Glory to Thee (Vishnu) who is but one with the saints,
whose perfect nature is for ever blessed I Glory to Thee,
O Lord, who has neither colour, nor extension, nor body,
nor any universal quality, and whose essence, pure among
the pure, can only be appreciated by Sages or^J&ishis.
We prostrate ourselves before Thee; Tffou art in our bodies,
in all living creatures. We glorify this Vasudeva, the '
sovereign Lord of all things, free from stain, seed of all things,
free from dissolution, who is never born, who is eternal, and
who is in essence the entire universe"*
CHAPTER X
MEDITATION AT TAN JORE
How lovely is the route which runs from Trichinopoly
to Tanjore ! It is an uninterrupted vision of villages
in a forest of palms, where the rapturous warbling
bf the minstrel birds mingles with the cawing of crows
and the screeching of parrots. It is, in reality, a luminous
garden that we traverse and is a fitting prelude to the con-
templation of Tanjore, where we arrive late in the even-
ing. . ,
The beautiful city of Tanj<ire well merits its name:
the "City of Refuge/' It extends among the greenness of
its trees, peaceful and happy, while the Cauvery winds its
, caltp, holy waters through verdant meadows and rice fields.
A great sorrow could soften and become calm in this
city, full of exquisite gentleness, especially in the temple
where all is order, beauty, peace. Here, in the vast reli-
gious quadrangle, no ba2aar, no merchants, all is stillness,
silence, the great silence, only broken by the carolling of
birds, the cooingof doves, or by the sound, both sweet and
grave, of bells *chimed by the breeze.
In this temple, which dates from about the eleventh
century, our eyes are drawn toward the beautiful order
of everything. The central gopuram y as usual, like a pyramid
in form, soars majestically into the pure sky above the
sanctuary dedicated to Shri^Brihadiswara, another name for
the great god, Shiva. Here, in stone is the enormous
Nanai-*BulI 9 the sacred bull which, so tradition relates,
developed imperceptibly during the course of ages to such
colossal proportions that, to put a stop to its extraordinary
^growth, a nail was driven into its back I.... Facing us,
before the entrance, is the great mast in copper in which
96 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
r
are suspended the bells that ding-dong when the wind blows,
and nearby in a cage of latticed wood, t> proud pea-
cock, with his magnificent tail unfolded, makes gracious
advances toward his timid and reserved companion.
Further on, is a little temple dedicated to Subraman-
yam, a beautiful poem in stone, imbued with grace and
lightness. Another, dedicated to Ganapati or Ganesha.
Behind the central gopuram are the admirable galleries
containing a whole series of lingams\ galleries with grace-
ful colonnades ornamented with naive and exquisite paint-
ings. Among these frescoes, we note one where Shiva
is represented in his dwelling of Kai/asa (the dwelling of
the gods) with a bull lying at his feet. Here are the Apsaras
and the Gandbarvas, the heavenly nymphs and choristers,
who while clapping their cymbals, sprinkle lotus petals
over valiant warriors. Then Shiva again, vanquishing the
Asuras, the powers of darkness.
Is it the order, the beauty which reigns in this temple,
or the chiming of the bells, or again this sculpture represent-
ing the illumination of the Buddha (strange to find in this
Brahmanic place !), is it all that, in its ensemble, which
draws us to meditation ? It little matters. But it is cer-
tain that Tanjore is a perfect refuge for thought. There
is behind this temple an atmosphere which could purify
our mind and raise our thoughts to an unaccustomed
elevation. To him who might doubt of order, harmony,
beauty, to him who might be a prey to serious anxieties,
it would be good to tell him: "Go to Tanjore, to.its temple,
the City of Refuge will bring you peace/* However, there
is a condition: it is that we should open our mind to receive
what is there. This does not mean that there are
stones or prayer-petitions in any temple in the world
which can bring us aid or comfort. The exterior temple
is nothing. The only one which counts is that which we
carry within us. Such is the eternal and wise teaching riven
by all the true Sages of humanity. Did not Saint Paujf say:
"Do you not know that you are the temple of God .... /ou
are this temple ?" It is an inner attitude that is needed, the
MEDITATION AT TANJORE 97
attitude of a real pilgrim, one who is without passion and
prejudice, the attitude in which we try to bring to birth
in ourselves greatness, beauty, order, and harmony, in a
word the qualities that forge aristocracy of thought.
That is what we can find at Tanjore, elevation of mind
by mental asceticism, discipline which the Hindu Scriptures
expose clearly in the Bhagavad-Gita:
"He who is able to with stand the force of desire and passion
while living in this world, before emitting his body he is
united to the Spirit, he is vlessea.
"He who finds within himself his happiness, his joy, and
in himself also his light, is a Yogi who is merged in the
Supreme Spirit, who is one with God."
Gautapia the Buddha, on his part, said :
"Difficult to master, tnstable^is the mind, always in quest
of p easures; it is good to dominate it. A trained mind
as jure s happiness" (Dhammapada)
So many persons turn to the exterior world to seek
what is within themselves. Life is a long quest, whether
it be in Art or in any other domain. Our great Balzac
was right in saying: "Moral work, hunting in the high
regions of the intelligence is one of the greatest efforts
of Map." OnQ lives but one does not know Life, still
less its Presence?, inexhaustible Source of beauty, force, '
hope, innpcence of heart, which create aristocracy of mind.
By becoming aristocrats of thought, we approach the
Heart of Being, we become human in the most elevated
*sense of the word, we can say to our fellow man, even
to the most miserable of men, this great, saving word:
< You are my brother." "It is the awakening to real life,
it is to feel the Presence. Symbols become truth. We
no longer see the goddess Saraswati as merely a cold idol
of stone but as the symbol of the hidden Wisdom of the
^pa?K; Lakshmi becomes the beauty of the interior life,
* the greatness of the realisation that we attain, little by
98 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
(
little, in the measure that we ascend the ladder of exis-
tence. When it is thus, we have found the^Refuge, the
sweet valley sheltered from storms, the peaceful valley
where the laughter of life echoes joyously, like bells
chimed^by the breath of morning.
Tanjore! the "City of Refuge," the refuge to which
we all aspire but which we so rarely find because of our
follies and errors. The temple of Tanjore bids us choose:
order or disorder, beauty or hideousness, peace or war,
truth or illusion, Sat or Maya. All in life is a series of
choices.
It is for us to choose, either the beaten track of war,
violence, or the mountain path which leads to serenity
of thought and heart. The happiness and welfare of
humanity depends upon this choice.
CHAPTER XI
THE SECRET OF CHIDAMBARAM
OUR eyes are still filled with visions of Madura,
Rameshwaram, Trichinopoly, Tanjore, our
9 memory is still thronged with so many living
'symbols of the highest speculations of intelligence and
spirit that we are in haste to start off again immediately
towards other sanctuaries which may perhaps reveal to us
other facets of India's ancient wisdom.
After stopping at Kumbakonam where we visited
its numerous temples, in particular that of Sarangapani
Swami, dedicated to Vishnu, which possesses a beauti-
ful, rijhly carved gopuram 147 feet in height; and that of
Rama, containing pillars on which the different Avatars
of Vishnu are featured in a vivid and beautiful movement
of life we make a great detour in order to visit Karikal
and Pondicherry, two pretty towns on the Coromandd
Coast. They are French possessions with limited powers
and are, unfortunately, rather abandoned in spite ot perso-
nalitieoof worrf^ working and wishing to do more. (We
sincerely congratulate those who have helped to spread
French thought by the establishment of a magnificent
library at Pondicherry, which certainly does honour to
ifs founders.)
Today, after *the sight of innumerable brightly-hued
parrots, after having crossed pretty country, green-carpet-
ed with rice fields, alter having had our automobile engulf-
ed in sands, nearly Saharian, under a torrid sun, we are
now hastening on our way to Chidambaram, where we
hope we may soon arrive. But a pilgrimage in India is
well worth the inconvenience of suffering from heat, of
journeying over f long distances, of very often eating
IOO THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
only a few bananas and refreshing oneself with a little
coconut milk, of going to bed very late after*having sear-
ched for hours for a shelter, of getting up very early in
order, 'at last, to visit the temple. Then one forgets all
in the contemplation of what it represents of luminous
knowledge, far beyond the customary horizons of life.
It seems that there is a secret in the temple of Chi-
dambaram, one of the most beautiful of the temples of
the South so we are told. Up to now, we have not found
this secret in the landscape which is unrolling before the
windows of our car. We are passing through ratter
austere country, ascetic, one could say, scattered here and
there with a few coco palms and palms. But, at last, we
are coming to Chidambaram with its low houses and sparse-
ly growing trees. We cross its fairly animated bazaar.
It is six o clock in the evening. Our boy asks the way
to the dak-bungalow. It is right nearby and in a few
minutes we arrive. A necessary and refreshing bath.
Then, speedily, before night falls, a flying visit, to the
temple.
The temple occupies the centre of the little town.
We are immediately struck by its imposing aspect and the
very considerable extent of its surface. Clouds of swallows,
in an ecstacy of joy, are tracing arabesques around the
gopurams, fired with the glowing glory of the setting sun.
From the moment of our entrance into the^interior
precincts, after having removed our shoes, we are seized
with an impression of force, an undeniable force which
shakes you, hurls itself on you like a great wind. Is
this the secret of Chidambaram? The ^temple is dedicated
to the great god Shiva, as is the one at Madura. In the
deepening night shadows which are stealing through the
enormous edifice, we can see in the first court the obscure
forms of a few sanctuaries, then some bas-reliefs represen-
ting gigantic elephants. A gong sounds. We watch the
pilgrims passing silently from one sanctuary to anb<Jier.
The chime of a grave bell awakens echoes under the tre*
mendous vaults of the great halls. T^he impression of
,. THE SECRET OF CHIDAMBARAM IOI
I
force returns, accentuated, perhaps, by the darkness which
is filling tile galleries dimly lighted by small wicks
emerging from copper bowls full of oil. But it is there,
present, this force. It reigns sovereignly, it envelopes
you, it seizes hold of you as if to transport you into a world
of powerful glory, through which are passing currents
of fire. Force, Light, Fire! Is that the secret of Chidam-
baram ? I don't know. We must wait until tomorrow
in order to know,
We go back to the bungalow, thoughtful in face of
tbe mystery of this temple. What a strange eveningl
'It is made up of profound feelings, religious fears, in-
terior calls, of hopes also. One's whole consciousness
is in movement. Some different "selves" appear, one
replacing the other, or presenting themselves simulta-
neously on the interior screen of consciousness. TJhen
worlds spring up, dawns of worlds, followed by icy cos-
mic nights, through which, like a vast ocean surge, rushes
a migjity, never-stopping wind. Is this the secret of
Chidambaram?
How majestic is the Temple of Shiva in the clear
sunlight of early morning. It seems still vaster, more
imposing than in the shadows of the night. Swallows
are stiS wheelir^ joyously around the four great gopurams.*
A warm wind swings the fronds of the palms overhanging
the high walls. It is not without a certain apprehension
that we cross the threshold of the principal entrance.
hall we again find the mysterious force ? Shall we dis-
cover the secret cJf Chidambaram ?
Something particulat to this temple is the vast quad-
rangle which encloses four immense courts or enclosures
leading one into the other, like the ancient city of Peking.
Each court has its sanctuaries. We see now, in the full
light of day, the bas-reliefs of elephants which skirt the
base of the hall of a thousand pillars. On the ceiling
are beautiful frescoes representing various religious scenes.
102 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
i
Access to this hall is gained by means of a wide stone
staircase. During great pilgrimages, consisting of 30,000
to 40,000 pilgrims, the statue of Shiva is placed in this
hall in $uch a way as to enable the entire crowd to see it.
Not far away is a little temple containing the Nandi-bull>
the sacred bull, carved in stone richly carapaced. It is
several thousands of years old, we are told. Afterwards,
comes a very beautiful sanctuary raised to the honour of
Lakshmi, the consort of Vishnu; then others to Ganesha,
to Subramanyam, to Parvati, the consort of Shiva;
then there come the chariots used for the gods at pre-
cessions.
Under the depthless blue vault of the sky, as usual,
is the marvellous sacred tank, the Shivaganga, called
the "golden tank." It owes its name, it seems, to the
ancient King Varma Chakra who, being infected with
leprosy, bathed in its waters and was healed while, at the
same time, his whole body was covered with the tint of
gold. This tank is certainly the finest in the Sopth of
India. It forms an immense square surrounded by two
galleries, one above the other. From the highest gallery,
stone steps on the North, South East, and South, descend
towards the tank as well as towards the lower gallery.
Around the lower gallery is a row of colonnades which
support the gallery above. From the top one, under the
porticoes of a mandapam* the view is mfignificentr One
can see the pilgrims returning from their purifying bath
in the sacred waters and drying themselves in the warm
sunshine on the stone stairways. The view which extends
over the gopurams and over the great mass of the hall of a*
thousand pillars, is impressive with grdndeur. Suddenly,
the force reappears. It grips you in the innermost fibres
of your being. So it is really here, this force. It is not an
illusion. One cannot escape it. It comes frojn the
temple, but from which sanctuary, from which symbol ?
We leave the Shivaganga and go to another pgrt
of the temple. A sound of tom-toms, flutes, and long
clarionets resounds from somewhere in the depth of one
SECRET OF CHIDAMBARAM 103
of the galleries and at the same time the gong, heard
yesterday, rings and reverberates under the vaults of the
hall where we are. We follow the pilgrims who
seem to be going somewhere in answer to this religious
signal. After passing through a long line of wide cor-
ridors, we arrive before two sanctuaries where strong odour
'of incense is floating in the air. The music stops, ex-
cept for the gong which resounds unceasingly. On
the forehead of the pilgrims who enter and leave the sanc-
tuaries are designed either the trident of Vishnu or the
. tfcree horizontal bars of Shiva, the respective signs of these
two divinities. We are, in fact, before the sanctuaries of
Shiva and Vishnu, one of the particularities of the temple
of Chidambaram and which makes it celebrated. For this is
one of the rare temples of India where Shiva and Vishnu
meet *each^ other and have sanctuaries side by side 'and
placed in* such a way that their respective devotees
can see and adore their divinities at the same
time, in the same place. In reality, Brahmi,
Vfthnu, Shiva are One, let us not forget. The
faces of the pilgrims at Chidambaram are grave.
Some of them chant mantrams^ others are silent. Do they
understand ? Superstitions are so strong ! We could not
penetrate into the interior of the sanctuaries because it
is not allowed the remains alas! of fanaticism. We could
only sfay on the threshold of the sanctuaries. So much'
the better for us in one sense. It caused us to remain out-
side of t*he popular religious current, often dangerous
and contagious, and to see sanely and impartially what
fc behind these grqss manifestations, invisible unfortunately
to the crowd. We listen to the gong whose grave reso-
nance seems to awaken, besides the powers of the air, the
powers of the heart, those powers which are in each one
of us,- good and evil, angels and demons, fire and smoke,
light and darkness, a whole inner cortege which quivers
irresistibly, which nothing can stop, which rushes onwards
like a torrent, as if driven by some mysterious force that
was sleeping in t us and is suddenly aroused by a fortui-
104 THE FRAGRANCE OF
tous shock, a desire, a long-suppressed thought that we
can no longer keep buried. All comes to me light, the
good as the bad, which explains the phenomena of wars
or eras t>f peace, fall or elevation, crime or genius, evilness
or saintliness, beast or angel. These reflections, born spon-
taneously before these sanctuaries, show us clearly that the
secret of Chidambaram is roving around. One feels
oppressed.
In the vibrations of the gong, among the spirals of
incense, amid the scent of jasmine (beautiful accessories
of superstitions, often incorrectly understood, incorrectly
employed), in the middle of sannyasis, of strange ascetics,
of worshippers of Shiva and of Vishnu, the existence is
pointed out to us of a veil suspended near at hand.
What does it hide ? Will it reveal the secret of Chidam-
barftm? Yes, we think the secret is surely there, behind
the veil, must be the Force. We are told that "behind the
veil dwells the Power: the Akasha Lingam, the lingam of
ether. If the veil is lifted, the Akasha Lingam will tppear.
At last, the curtain is lifted 1 A smooth wall. Behind the
veil, there is nothing but a smooth wall ! Where
is the Akasha 'Lingam ? It is said that it exists here, in this
secret place. Yes, it is true, it can be there, but....
invisible. Ether, is it visible? We understand. Invi-
sible things, the unknown, must be seen and understood
'by the interior eyes of our soul, says Hindu philosophy.
"Happy those who have not seen but who have believed/'
said another voice. The 'Lingam is the symbol of abstract
creation. It is the divine procreative Force. Akasha or
Ether is this spiritual and primordial espence which pene-
trates everything, the seminal liquor of Nature. It is
also the Anima Mundi> the Soul of the World, the
sacred Fire of Zoroaster, the Lightning of Cybele, the
living Fire of universal life, life's electric and magnetic
power. What immense horizons unroll before us!
Behind this fire, this power, this force, what is tKere ?
Who kindles the fire of the Spirit, who sets in motion
power, force, potencies ? No, the Akasfa Lingam is not
' THE SECRET OF CHIDAMBARAM 105
the whole sejcret of Chidambaram. This secret must be
united to another force, more sovereign still, to a symbol
* yet more sacred, which is the Holy of holies, the Secret
of secrets, which must be represented even here in this
temple.
We now turn our steps towards the sanctuary of
Shiva. The gong still resounds. We make our way through
the crowds of ascetics so as to get near to the dwelling
of the god. But what do we see ? Now that the view
is not hindered by pilgrims and massive pillars, we can see
c<5nfusedly in the dim light a dazzling roof of gold,
adorned with fleurons, which forms a canopy. Under
this canopy stands a statue. It is that of Shiva, half-naked,
with four arms. What is he doing? The god is dancing.
It is the Nataraja The Dance of Shiva ! The Holy of
holies* the Symbol of symbols. The Force, the Light, *he
Fire, the "Dance. We are at 1 last in the presence of
the secret of Chidambaram.
Cwa-ya-na-ma. Salutation to Shiva ! says the man-
train, powerful invocation. The god with four arms
dances, his long jewelled tresses whirling in the dance,
the god with the third eye in the centre of his forehead,
the eye of eternity. One of his hands holds a tambour,
another is lifted in sign of confidence and hope, another
makes a gesture of offering, it gives. The fourth holds
the firer There is the god, standing on a lotus for a ped-
estal, entirely encircled by a ring of flames. Clothed in
a tiger's 'skin, a nqga, a serpent, serving for his neck-
lace, one of his feet is crushing a demon, the other is
lifted. The god fiances. His young, slender limbs, his
harmonious form, his smile, all in him expresses radiant
joy. Ci-va-ja-na-ma. Salutation to Shiva I He dances the
Dance of Life, the cosmic dance of the world. The
Nataraja is the ceaseless rhythm of life, which never stops
and which always, without beginning or end, advances
in eternity. Shiva is the Regenerator and the Destroyer.
He is the god of Time, his tambour has the form of an
hour-glass. He 9alls the worlds to life, he causes them
106 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDJA
to be born, grow, in a ceaseless whirlwind. He invites
men to regeneration. The fire of life animates them be-
cause Shiva is himself the spiritual fire at the base of'
Nature and of Man.
**O my Lord, Thy band holding the sacred drum has made
and ordered the heavens and earth and other worlds and
innumerable souls. Thy lifted hand protects both the con-
scious and unconscious order of Thy creation. All these worlds
are transformed by Thy hand bearing fire. Thy sacred foot,
planted on the ground, gives an abode to the tired soul strug-
gling in the toils of causality. It is Thy lifted foot tbdt
grants eternal bliss to those that approach Thee. Our
Lord is the Dancer who y like the heat latent in firewood,
diffuses His power in mind and matter and makes them
% dance in their turn"
says a Hindu scripture. 3 ^ Then when forms have fur-
nished their experiences, when life through them life for
which death does not exist has gathered the nectar of
knowledge, then the great god Shiva becomes the Desttoy-
er. He destroys the used moulds so that he may recall them
to life under forms more perfect. He is indeed the Destroy-
er and the Regenerator, the eternal progress in the
slow evolution of matter and life. All changes, everything
modifies itself through the cycles of peace, war, catas-
trophes, epidemics, through death and life. Nothing
is created but all transforms during the successive emana-
tions of the universe universe which exists but for Man,
but for his eternal becoming, but for his glory. Nothing
is static, all is motion. Even in the fternities of rest**-
when every emanation has returned to the original source
from where it issued, the Absolute, the Unknowable
Divinity there is the Great Breath which never stops,
which is the respiration of Life. When repose comes to
an end, the Fire of Shiva kindles the worlds. "Seven
ascetics/' say the Scriptures, "appear on the threshold
*See "The Dance of Shiva" by Coomaraswa/jiy.
THE SECRET OF CHIDAMBARAM IO7
'
of the temple of the universe with seven sticks of burning
incense. At*these sticks, the first line of pilgrims light
% theirs. Then each ascetic commences to swing his stick
around his head in space and communicates the re to
others/' It is the Nataraja, life awakening, the dawn of
worlds, the Dance of Shiva manifesting anew throughout
the seven worlds. Ci-va-ya-na-ma. Salutation to Shiva!
He dances, the Mahadeva, the great god, the ascetic
of ascetics. In him are centred the highest spiritual per-
fections. He is the principle of abstract meditation which,
alane, can elevate us to Him. That is the reason why He,
the Maha-Yogi, is the Patron of all Yogis, of all true Sages.
"It is the Spirit of Divine Wisdom and of chaste Asceticism
which incarnates in those who become his Elect." The
Guru-deva Shiva, does he not possess the "Open Eye of
Dang/mi" the soul's spiritual eye which embraces she
infinite fieMs of knowledge, of Ifearning ? Dangma is the
soul purified, the soul which elevates itself, which dances,
it also,,on the crushed demons of its ancient dark, human
nature. Also, for each pilgrim, each soul which lives its
deepest life, its hidden life in the cell of its heart, Shiva is
the Patron, the invisible but ever-present Guru who can
be contemplated only with the soul's eye, Shiva's eye,
which we all possess but which can open only when our
nature of darkness has been purified by moral penances
and meditation. % We can wear the signs of a Shivaist, the
black dot or the three bars, in the centre of our forehead,
but as long as the soul's eye is not open to the realities of
the spiritual life, so long as we have not broken the circle
o our illusions,our follies, our superstitions, we are not
Shivaists. To be \5orn a disciple of Shiva is the second
birth, it is to be born to -the spiritual life; it is also the
beginning of the soul's tragedy.
Thp Guru-deva Shiva is Force, Light and Fire. Even
as "the seed dies in order to become a plant," so must
he who is the disciple of Shiva die to himself in order to
, find himself. "He who would save his life must lose
it," said the Galilean. But the neophyte acquires the
108 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
I
force to kill his passions, the Maruts, which are unchained
in him the moment he prepares himself to leaTl a true inner
life. He then lives a difficult life in which he must van-/
quish *>r succumb. If he succumbs, he will not succumb
in vain, for he will have amassed energies for future battles.
In the measure that he fastens his eyes upon the star which
shines in turn, the light of Shiva will grow and illumine
his way. He understands, he sees. To understand, to
see, are the necessary steps. Afterward, he will feel that
Shiva acts within him as Destroyer and Regenerator. He
destroys, he burns up the bad scoriae. The disciple
will suffer from burns, he will twist like twigs which shrivel
on a red-hot fire, but he will know, he has learned, that
the test is necessary, that the shadows of the night must be
passed through. He murmurs: Ci-va-ya-na-ma. Salutation
to* Shiva! If he has courage, if he perseveres without total
failure for there is no rtal fall unless one ceasts to strug-
gle the first battles are won. Then, over his weary spirit
appear the Hands of Shiva, the prodigious divine e Hands.
At first, the one which brings hope, confidence in* the
immortal energies of our being. Afterwards the one
which gives. What ? Love, the greatest of all gifts.
Love, wise and strong, love which is an exhaustless foun-
tain of joy, love, intrepid, which makes an individual a
servitor of men; love which is never hard; love that is
as infinitely sweet as the music of an Ajpokan 'harp when
the evening breeze passes over its cords; love which
sparkles with light. Lastly, when other interior stages
have been passed, appear the two other Hands: the
one which carries the tambour and the one which
holds the fire of devotion, true Bbati which burns in
the sanctuary of the soul. Devotion to the true and very
tare Guru, the Master, the Sage, whom the disciple has
discovered. Devotion which is knowledge of the laws
of being and life. Devotion to the interests of others.
Devotion which does not make one a slave to an indivi-
dual, or even to an idea, but devotion which is commu- .
nion, union with the ideal, in the absolute liberty of the
THE SECRET OF CHIDAMBARAM 1 09
I 7
forces unfolded. Then, devotion becomes the tambour
which calls the great flock of men to the fte of life.
k OhI the Hands of Shiva, what do they not repre-
sent for a disciple, in their force, their grace, their Jiidden
powers ? Hope, confidence, knowledge, force, devotion,
love ! When they appear, extended over his con-
sciousness, the disciple sees at last that he also, in his own
measure, has danced the Dance of Shiva. By a process
of spiritual alchemy, he has become a real Shivaist, a son
of the Divinity. "Man, know thyself and thou wilt
know the universe and the gods," said the oracle of Del-
phi. That is the secret which every man must learn,
which every man must unlock. Natarajal The Dance
of Shiva must be learned.
Whether it be the dance at twilight on the heights
of the- Himalayas, with divine choir, or whether it be *he
Nadanta cfence of the Nataraja Before the assembly in the
golden hall of the temple of Chidambaram, one can only
evoke /he god who dances.
Ci-va-ya-m-ma. Ci-va-ya-na-ma. Salutation to Shiva!
Salutation to Shiva! murmur the pilgrims in the temple of
Chidambaram. It is the great wind of the Spirit which
passes.
InTTfder tojncrease its influence and its force,Chidam- ,
baram has founded a Temple of Learning in the form of
a big university, which is situated near the temple.
Spirit and Intelligence, the twins of eternity, the
supreme gifts of Shiva to the human creature, intelligence
at the service <5f spirit, spirit fecundating intelligence.
Without these gifts, what;are we? What is a nation, what
is a race, a humanity, without these two cosmic powers
which, are forces set in motion by the intelligent law at
the base of life, or, if you prefer, the Dance of Shiva?
"Let there be light and it was light/' "In the beginning
was the Word." Without spirit and intelligence, we are
worse than beasts. Without these two powers, we gene-
110 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
I
rate wars, egoism, tyranny, brutality, we become failures
of Nature; we have not accomplished oift mission of
Men, we are nothing but the cadavres of men, animated,
only Ijy an inferior intelligence, troubled and redoubtable,
which only knows how to create instruments of torture,
so as to enslave life for purposes of shame, greed, and
moral decomposition.
India, in her glorious past, has understood that the
greatness of a nation, its virility, its moral value, depend
entirely on the system of education that is given to it.
The only remedy for transforming a nation is the School.
What does one give as nourishment to the intelligence of
the child ? When the culture of the intelligence is not
based on the spirit, the school engenders one of the worst
evils of humanity: egoism, generator of all the deficiency
causes in mankind. Spirit must be linked to intelligence.
What is needed is a culture which makes the heart intelli-
gent and which gives intelligence a noble character.
Experience proves that books alone bring nothing bvtf super-
ficial culture. Personal relations between master and
pupil are necessary. But who have we as educators in the
universities of the world, or in our primary schools ?
These educators, men or women, m spite of their devotion
and their intelligence, do they possess the necessary ele-
ments of profound life, this culture capable, as we have
already said, of rendering the heart intelligent 2nd imprin-
ting the intelligence with the seal of nobility? Would
it not be wiser to form, at first, a School for Eaucators, apt
to receive men and women free from all party struggles,
who, before beginning to teach, have commenced thfiir
inner regeneration by drinking fromHhe purest sources
of the wisdom of the ages, wiscjpm which gives the knowl-
edge of the laws of life ? Would this not be the beginning
of an inteDectual and spiritual disintoxication of humanity,
without forgetting the physique of the race, which would
lead to a renaissance ot the values, intellectual and moral,
of Man ? Philosopher-Educators ? Well ! yes, why not ?
Will it not be necessary to come back to the "dreams"
UJF ^JtllUAMXJAIiAM HI
of Plato ? The reign of philosophers ? Yes, the reign and
the learning gf the Regenerated.
Such are the agonizing questions that every indivi-
dual who has at heart a total change of the mind of the
human race, must ask himself at this crucial hour through
which humanity is passing. So long as men kneel before
altars of matter, there will be no hope for them. So long
as men cling to the dark mantle of religious superstition,
either in the East or the West, there will be no hope
for them. The collective mind and heart of humanity must
be changed.
* Ancient India furnished us examples of schools, uni-
versities, Brahmanic or Buddhist, which brought to this
nation most glorious harvests harvests fallen, alas I today
into oblivion. Let us take such centres of culture as
Taxila, Ujjayini, and Nalanda. These universities wh^re
thousands of students came fromiall parts of Asia to drink
at the source of learning based their system of education
on individual contacts between master and pupil, but the
masters" themselves were pupils in the great University of
Life. What they gave to their students was the honey of
their moral and intellectual experiences received through
masters still more experienced in spiritual science, in the
true knowledge of the laws of life. Do we not see the
famous Chinese pilgrim, Hiuen-Tsang, coming to perfect
himself auNalanjia m the study of Yoga-sastra y the knowl-
edge of the laws of being ? Did he not have, at Nalanda,
the celebrated vision of the vicissitudes through which
India would have to go ? Thus, there passed through these
universities great winds of free Spirit and free Intelligence
wffich swept away the miasms of false conceptions, which
formed real men, noble men, in whom joy sparkled.
These arc the thought's which haunted us while we
were on our way to the University otAnnamalai, the uni-
versity t>f Chidambaram. The problems of former times
present themselves also today with the same poignancy.
India's universities are numerous. Calcutta, Bombay, Mad-
'ras, Aligarh, Benares, Mysore, to mention only the principal
112 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
ones among them, gather together an imposing number
of professors and students. Some of them <have an aver-
age of 15,000 to 20,000 students. They teach letters,
scienc^, law, medicine, engineering, arts. But how many
among them recall the ancient lessons of Nalanda, of
Taxila? We are not making criticisms. We simply put
the question to the sincere scholars and philosophers of
India.
The University of Annamalai was founded in 1929
by Rajah Sir S. R. M. Annamalai Chettiar. Its surface
covers several thousands of acres. A superb avenue,
bordered with pretty bungalows, the residences of the
professors, leads to a large circular space where the principal
buildings are grouped. There is the senate hall, a sump-
tuous construction, in which the jurors at the exami-
ni;tions hold their deliberations and which contains a
magnificent hall to acconrmodate a thousand people. Not far
from this building is the library which already possesses
more than 40,000 volumes and where we are very pleased
to see an important place assigned to French boots. fiere
reign order, cleanliness, light, air, the practical installation
of separated tables; all concurs to give the student a
propitious atmosphere for profound meditation and intel-
lectual speculation. Other buildings are: the students'
quarters, each student having his own room with a veranda;
further on is the College of Hindu music wher* /he study
of this ancient art, that had almost died' out, has been re-
vived, so that the charm of instruments such as the ancient
vina, dilrouba, and others can again be enjoyed. Uday
Sankar, the magnificent dancer ot India, has moreover
shown the way to this revival by modernising his ballets
in a prestigious way. We cannot forget either another
great Hindu artist, who has done so much towards resurrect-
ing music and dancing in India and who works always
untiringly fox this end: we mean the famous Rukmini Devi.
To see her dance is a moving and enchanting poem.
Now we come to the gracious bungalow of the young
girls. Through the open windows, we cast a discreet glance
THE SECRET OF CHIDAMBARAM 113
into the hall where we see charming groups of girls in
their gay saris, chatting and laughing in their clear, ringing
t voices. Afterwards, we look admiringly at the pro-
' fessors' bungalows; the little Hindu temple, full of poetry,
hidden in its shady retreat. And lastly, still under construc-
tion, the immense gardens where a profusion of flowers
and trees will entrance all who see them with their masses
of brilliant hues; the pond where amateurs of yachting will
be able to give free rein to their amusement; the tennis
courts
This model university, furnished with the most up-to-
3ate perfections, offers, of course, the usual curriculum of
studies: letters, science, philosophy, art, languages, and the
study of Sanskrit.
But at the end of our very interesting visit, we repeat
our question: are all these human studies worthy -'of
India's past ? The students who leave India's universities,
are they merely swelling the number of the diplomaed of
other world universities ? If, as we suppose, the answer
is in the affirmative, then the secret of Chidambaram must
be solved here as elsewhere. The mind must be changed.
There is but one culture worthy of a true civilisation the
culture of the Spirit. We have already said it and we re-
peat it: it is necessary to link intelligence to spirit. Only
in this way can we have new educators in the world;
new SaUterach?ryas, Confucius, Leonardo da Vincis, J
Platos, Pythagoras, Origenes, Virgils, Beethovens, Jean-
Sebastien Bachs, great Shepherds of body, soul, and spirit.
Then we shall understand that the Cosmic Dance of Shiva
n^kes it possible for intelligence to plunge into the un-
fathomable abyss 4 * of Spirit.
We shall always remember the Sunday when we left
Chidambaram. It was at the hour of a marvellous sunset.
Away in the distance, into the massed molten colours of
the stmset soared the gopurams of the great temple and they
seemed to chorus: "Glory to Life which never dies I Glory
to Intelligence fertilized by Spirit! Glory to Thee,
o ^
1 14 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
Shiva ! Glory to the Nataraja I Glory to the Mahadeva
who dances eternally the Dance of Life.*' *
Ci-va-ya-na-ma. Salutation to Shiva! Salutation to,
Man ! <
CHAPTER XII
THE DESCENT OF THE GANGES
I
A SEVERAL hours' journey from Madras, including the
crossing of a river by means of a primitive vac (a
kind of ferry boat), brings us into romantic territory.
Cfn the borders of the Gulf of Bengal, sparkling in ripples
of gold and blue, on a sandy beach, among pines and
tamarinds and blocks of mossy stone half-buried under
a profusion of sweet smelling wild grass, hide the monolith
temples of Mahavalipuram, the Seven Pagodas, chefs-
d'oeuvre of the art of the Pallavs^ belonging to the seventh
century.
After zigzagging by a narrow path to the top of a pile
ofgr&n, mossy rocks, our view extends over plains
and the sea whose long swell advances and spreads itself
indolently over the hot, sandy beach. At our feet, through
the needly plumes of pines and the green tresses of tama-
rinds, rise the peaceful pagodas. The afternoon is very
calm. There they are, these pagodas, but when we des-
cend frc*frour observatory, they hide themselves again and
have to be discovered afresh. It is then a joy renewed.
Before these wonderful pagodas which are around us
and marvel our eyes with their varieties, one's being is
fijjed with a sentiment of tenderness. We are no longer
in the exuberance\>f Madura, nor in the order of Tanjore,
nor in the force and fire of.Chidambaram. Here we are no
longer on the lofty peaks of metaphysics but in a faerie
spot of legend and dream. But legend and dream nearer
to reality than are our matter-of-fact waking days. We ate
still among the gods, as in the other temples, but in the
Seven Pagodas the gods have ceased to be far-distant
stars, we do not have to ascend towards them, we no longer
1 1 6 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
f
have to seek for them, for they have come down to us,
into our life. Here the wonderful pictures in stone show
us better perhaps the sacred mission of the great Sages, as
well js their humanising influence.
Before us is the high-relief of Mahavalipuram. It
represents the "Descent of the Ganges." We recall a
passage from the Jt>hagavat-*Purana\ "A long time ago, a
fabulously long time ago, the waters of the Ganges had
their source and flowed through the heavens. But a king,
Bhagiratha, reflecting deeply over the evils of the earth
and wishing to remedy them, underwent severe morti-
fications so that the sacred waters might be allowed to flow
down and purify the valleys of men. In order to prevent
the great mass of waters causing another deluge upon the
earth, the god Shiva, in his great love for Man, willed to
reteive them upon his head. So, for a thousand years,
the sacred waters were poured through the trtsses of his
hair until finally, in this way, they came to form seven princi-
pal sources in the Himalayas." ,
Part of this lovely legend is there, carved in 'the
immense fresco of stone, hewn even out of the cliff. In it
are grouped gods, animals, ascetics, sages, nagas, goddesses
with beautiful, pure, naked forms. A whole creation
prostrates itself before the miracle of Nature, the Mother
who is tender and protecting to her children.
What living symbols, dramatic evert ! Is it not the
history of humanity which is narrated to us in this featured
stone, in this "Descent of the Ganges ?" It is the gift
of the gods, the gift of wisdom won. The Ganges I The
sacred river carrying, symbolically, in t'ts strong currdht
the eternal truths, ooes it not represent also the cohort
of the "Sons of God/' the sairftly Gurus, the Wise Ones,
who come to tread the highway of men in order to help
them to attain the mountain peaks which are named:
liberty, happiness, brotherhood, peace?
From all the Hindu Scriptures a cry emerges, the echo
of which rings from age to age, through all civilisations:
DESCENT OF THE GANGES 117
"Arise, awake t
Seek the ^Great Ones and under stand. . . ."
'say the Upanishads. "Awake," says Saint Paul,^ "and
Christ will enlighten thee." To seek the great Sages,
to find those who have the sacred power to bless and point
gut the route to follow "out of the mud of terrestrial lies,"
and, above* everything else, to understand them ! What a
solemn task which contains within it the promise of the
regeneration of humanity !
And everywhere on this stone fresco is seen the
iiaga, the serpent, the universal symbol of knowedge and
wisdom and, consequently, the symbol of the "Sons of
Resurrection," the Masters of Wisdom. Whether it be the
word of the Galilean: "Be ye wise as serpents," or the
brass serpents of Moses, or again Mercury in his role*of
psychopontpos, conducting and 'guiding the souls of the
dead to Hades by the aid of his Caduceus\ whether it be the
Buddhj washed at his birth by nagas; Vishnu lying on the
nag*-cesba, the serpent of eternity; the initiated Pharaohs
wearing tall head dresses encircled by sculptured figures
of vipers; the Lord Krishna speaking of himself as being
Vasuki, the chief of the serpents everywhere and always
the serpent symbolises the Dragon of Wisdom, the super-
human Men, whose mission is to bless and to serve,
Th^Descerffrof the Ganges is certainly the cyclic re-
turn to earth of these powerful Educators bringing with
them the great offering. It is the earth fecundated by the
spirit.
We find in aty the ancient Scriptures of the world,
an allusion jjiade to the Sons of God, to the Watchers
who watch over humanity* who incarnate among men as
divine kings, as philosophers, and prophets. Those are
the true spiritual chiefs of the world. They have watched
over the first steps of humanity. They have given to hu-
manity, say Genesis and the Book of Enoch, the arts and scien-
ces, the secrets of the universe, the Gnosis; "the knowledge
of things which f are," said Pythagoras; the "mysterious
Il8 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDJA
wisdom that God has reserved for man since the begin-
ning/* adds Saint Paul; the Atma-Vidya of Hindu philoso-
phy which, after all, is at the base of all religions, all philo-.
sophiA, sciences, art. The Those-who-know of all epochs
Krishna, Buddha, Zoroaster, Jesus, Confucius, Sankara-
charya form the "guardian wall" of humanity, which in-
visibly shelters it from still greater evils. "Byilt by the
hands of numberless Masters of Compassion," says an old
Scripture, "raised by their torture, cemented by their
blood, it shields mankind since man is man, and protects
him from far greater misery and much deeper sorrow.*'.
We can in our folly reject the existence of such a
guardian wall. History, alasl proves to us that this
is what generations of men have done, are doing still,
and cycles of darkness have succeeded to cycles of light.
Scepticism, withering i c rony, have shrivelled tip the
most beautiful aspirations of the man-soul, until today
there are but two camps: materialism and superstition.
Certainly, it is easy for each of us to say: "The vorld is
mad." But let us take care not to become mad ourselves.
Let us take care not to create anew, in the tumult of the
world, false gods, false gurus (the routes of India are
full of false gurus), false doctrines, which will reserve
for us further periods of mental darkness. For then the
pretended new civilisation would be but the^ bastard
daughter of the old. '' *"""
Oh! these Nagas, these Sons of Light, without any
doubt they are yearning to descend again and dwell with
us. What hinders them from coming ? We do, we men,
the sons and daughters of the earth. c
CHAPTER XIII
TOM-TOMS AT CONJEEVARAM
A CHARMING dak-bungalow buried under palm trees
and hidden from the road by hedges of fragrant
jasmine. We have just arrived, late in the evening,
^fter wandering around in our car for more than an hour
looking for the traveller's cottage.
While the "boy" goes to the town, two or three miles
distant, to procure our evening meal of curry and fruit,
we sapnter along the road which winds round the bunga-
low. Th soft Indian night i* full of fragrance and the
moon's radiant countenance beams over the country-
side. Scattered lights indicate a few humble dwellings
hi^deR under clusters of trees. The lowing of a buffalo
in its stable breaks the silence from time to time. On
the road, white ivory in the radiance of the moon, fire-
flies dance never-ending reels, forming glistening circles
which break and form again. Nearby, a mans voice
rises singing a raga.
A^-tke otfcer side of a plain intersected by groves^
and coppices, we can see hazily pyramidal forms rearing
upwards* into the night sky. These are the gopuratns of
the temples of Conjeevaram. Here, we are in the second
Benares of India. In the seventh century, it was the resi-
dence of the kiftgs of Pallava. The principal temple is
dedicated fb Shiva and tjje others to Vishnu. The great
pilgrimage takes place in April.
But, a far-off sound is heard; it is a tom-tom, accom-
panying no doubt a procession. A blast of firecrackers
breaks out from the direction of the temples, then a series
of other sc^uib-like explosions. From afar, the rhyth-
mic drumming of tom-toms resounds again through
120 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
the night and the soft breeze wafts to us the echoes of
songs. At Conjeevaram, the night is as religious as the
day. During the whole year round, the town resounds .
with tljye beating of tom-toms and the chanting of songs.
Later on, under our mosquito nets, for a long time far
into the night we hear the resonance of the tom-toms of
the great temple.
....Early the next morning, we are awaSkened by
the cawing of the crows. The sun already spreads his
wonderful wizardry over Nature. Buffaloes are grazing
on the route and as far as the town it is a pastoral coming
and going in the simple joy of a new day to live.
The road leading to the principal temple is broad
and bordered by coco palms. Before entering the reli-
gious edifice, we stop to contemplate the beautiful sculptur-
ed ^porticoes on the face of the temple. We notice an
adorable figure of a goddtss folding her arms * around a
lingam while the head of a Naga shelters her. Such
grace in all the gestures! r
The temples of Shiva and Vishnu are both very beau-
tiful. In that of Vishnu, in the mandapam with a hundred
pillars, there are some sculptures of horses which are
very striking, due to the astounding effect of vigour ex-
pressed in their movements^
Under the great columns, some attractive scenes
^top us. Here, in a corner, young girls are seaffed r on the
stone slabs and chatting to one another in the shadow of
god Vishnu; over there, are some boys, naked to the waist,
on whose foreheads is designed in white the trident of
Vishnu. They learn, under the direction of a Brahmag,
x> repeat mantrams to celebrate the glory bf the god; while
ill around them the great sculptured pillars "recount the
jpic experiences through which 'Nature passes in her
eternal cycle of life.
Conjeevaram throngs with tempfes. They are every-
where, on the great square, in the streets and lanes, Ikrge
md small. Moreover, there are others in the surrounding
countryside. During our wanderings, we come to a soli-
Sanskrit Teaching in Conjeevaram Temple
TOMTOMS AT CONJEEVARAM 121
tary spot, outside of the town. It is almost a desert,
scattered herft and there with a few trees. All is calm and
filent, apart from a joyous concerto of parrots and the
echo or tom-toms which remind us that. .. .the gods
are there.
Suddenly, to our great surprise, near a little Jain
temple, we discover a stele engraved with some inscrip-
tipns anAiiaving on its top two interlaced triangles. A
"stele orAsoka, our guide tells us. It is quite possible.
In fact, Conjeevaram, the Benares of the South, did she
no* hear 2,600 years ago the voice of the Buddha? Hiuen-
Tsang, the celebrated Chinese pilgrim of the seventh
century *who inf his pilgrimage across India followed the
traces of the Tathagata, was he not struck with admiration
by this city and its temples? Although he found chiefly
in the *North columns erected by the Emperor AsoKa,
he could ddubtless have found otter vestiges of this epoch
also in Southern India.
Tlys stele is there, framed by a few scattered palm
treea, its base sunk into the sand. We wished so much
that we were able to decipher its inscriptions. If it really
belongs, as is affirmed, to the epoch of Asoka, its inscrip-
tions would resemble those carved on the pillars in the
North, which have been retranscribed into modem langua-
age. However that may be, before our marvelling mind
flit some of those glorious figures of ancient India who
1 gave to their country an ideal of moral and social riches
which could still serve as model to the world of tomor-
row.*
+ Asoka! Prestigious emperor who knew how to give
to his people both prosperity and happiness.
so rare that one must note * it. His life is
nary example of what can be accomplished by '
has the .fearful mission of being the head of a 'state.
life, is it still we will not say present^ij^gmvt
mory 6f all modern India's politicians? IHs,Tn a
Jiving in his edicts, called somewhere "fc
whicn, carved on pillars, conserve his*
112 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
Apart from the work of the great spiritual chiefs
of India, there is nothing more astonishing or more
instructive than to see in ancient Hindustan the unity of
political life realised by its greatest statesmen. It is
certain that the achievement of the Maurya dynasty, after
the death of the Buddha, is one of the finest and most
distinctive features of Indian history.
In the life of some persons, there come redoubtable
hours which entirely change the career and transform the
inner life of the individual. This was the case with the
Emperor Asoka. From the beginning of his reign, Jie
found himself at the crossroads. He h^i declared wale
in order to aggrandize his kingdom, ^jthen he -saw the
loss of his armies, the horrors of the battlefield, his soul
trembled. One can easily imagine how stirring this hour
nfust have been for Asoka. Crucial hour ! Saving hour!
hour of service to men, ft> his brothers. From that day, he
embraced the wisdom preached by the Buddha, the wis-
dom of all the Buddhas, past and future.
For thirty-seven years, the period during wliich his ,
reign lasted (274 to 237 B. C), the Emperor Asoka proved
to an immense empire that spiritual values, rea/, that is
to say, can always be the levers of command for any politi-
cal action. His truly Aryan characteristics, the eclat of
his influence over all domains of social life physical and
moral well-being, art, science, philosophy* religion show
us that the lofty conceptions of Asoka on the government %
of a state could be followed with profit in our modern
world, rent by incessant wars and violent upheavals. It
is not astonishing, then, that impartial historian^ in
their study of the life of this gre&t Emperor have
failed to find in history any other monaif n comparable
to him with the exception, perhaps, of Marcus Aurelius.
In spite of the eighty-four centuries which separate
us from the period of Asoka, it is easy to understand fully
the reality ot this truth banal but useful to repeat that the
happiness of a people will never clepend on a group of
politicians, nor on the dictatorship of an individual, but
T(JM-TOMS AT CONJEEVARAM 123
that the social well-being of a nation depends uniquely
upon spiritvfel values. What the world is in need of, we
.have already said, it is not professors of philosophy but
philosophers. This Platonist idea was put into practice by
Asoka.
At the head of an Empire which extended over the
whole of India, the Southern point excepted, Asoka,
^olicitou^about the welfare of his people, observed that
the changes, both social and economic, which generally
accompany a great Empire's development, by the conquest
pi little States, with its inevitable succession of dynastic
tragedies, leack finally but to unhappiness for the masses
and gain for me egoistic and covetous minorities. The
problems of long ago are the problems of today. Asoka
discovered how to solve them. He bent towards his people. .
He listened to its heart. Brushing aside with a firm handball
intrigues, Tie adopted as moral base for his political acti-
vity Buddhism, which was flourishing in most of the pro-
vincesr they were still ringing with the voice of the Beg-
gar Prince the only religion which, in the history of the
world, has never engendered war.
One of the first acts of Asoka was to undertake "moral
rounds." Mixing with the crowd, interrogating individuals
without distinction of creed or social condition, he
acquainted himself with their needs, their aspirations.
He saw tfieir sufferings. Then, he aided his subjects,
not only with his gold, which is easy, but by the diffusion
of moral* and eternal laws, those contained in the Sermon
of T5enares of his Master, the Buddha, laws susceptible
o contributing to the happiness of homes. Better than
that, he formed al>ody of functionaries to whom he taught
the fundamental truths of .functionaryism, that is to say,
how to be not merely functionaries but instructor-philoso-
phers, of the Dharma, of the Doctrine, and at the same
time^to preoccupy themselves ardently and arduously
with" the general needs of the people.
Amphitheatres were constructed where instruction
and amusements were given to the masses. The selling
124 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDfA
price of goods was controlled so that there could be no
abuses or illicit profits. The energies of eacfi one had to
be spent in contributing to the general well-being of all.
No privileged class. Asoka himself gave the example of
a simple life from which ostentation was banished. He
forbade hunting, all trials by combat between animals,
alcohol. He surveyed prostitution so as to avoid any
excess of sexual life. He made every effort possible to stabi-
lise family life and to increase birth in an atmospffere of
joy and peace. Military conquests ceasing to exist, finan-
cial charges were transferred to the well-being of sodfcaj
life. Instruction, medicine, the building otf hospitals for
the sick and destitute, art, all concurred in promoting the
moral and physical well-being of his people. Before all,
Asoka wanted for his people deliverance from the fetters
of^Vuperstition, source of so many evils. He^ prfeferred
service to man rather than useless and dangerous cults.
He demanded religious tolerance toward the beliefs of
different sects, but he wanted to dissipate ignorance by
giving knowledge abundantly. National and cultural
unity was strengthened by the adoption of a common
language: Pali.
Asoka's efforts in the realms of philosophy and reli-
gion created material changes in the social life of India.
For, inversely to what we believe in our days, Jie thought
the material conditions of a people are in' direct relation
to its inner life. Let us grasp thoroughly that he did not
want, in the Jeast degree, to drowse his people* with the
opium of false religious conceptions for perverted 6ids,
but he desired earnestly to energise thejn, ennoble them,
lift them to altitudes of intelligence and brjj^herhood by
the loftiest moral and philosophic truths.
TJndet Asoka' s wise direction, India must have known
a glory without equal. In the smallest villages, this march
onward of a people along the most desired routes of unity
and fraternity was felt. Wells and reservoirs were ofered
to travellers as well as houses of rest. Numberless
feasts and distractions rejoiced all hearts. Work became
TOM-TOMS AT CONJEEVARAM 125
joy. Beauty broadened the customary hori2ons of life.
In the domain of architecture, great improvements were
achieved. The ancient caves were transformed into
"sanctuaries; nearly 84,000 buildings were constructed;
the temples were adorned with frescoes and statues. Ar-
chitecture, before the Maurya dynasty, generally made
jise of but fragile and perishable materials. But under
Asoka's influence, the use, chiefly, of stone and sandstone
cce^^rfa in giving to India an enduring art, capable of
defying the ravaging hand of Time. The art of Asoka
hag given to India many chefs-d'oeuvre, such as those
which can stil?!i>e seen at Sanchi, Bharut, Sarnath,Gaya. . .
Thus, ia the MVurya Empire, the cult of beauty welled up
naturally from beauty of soul and from its joy.
But in order to give a permanent character to his
achievement of social regeneration, so as to testify^to
the generations of the future tt&t an eternal sovereignty
cannot be won by war but by love for the people and its
intellectual and moral elevation, Asoka had columns
erected* throughout the whole of his Empire on which were
engraved his principal edicts. One has only to read these
edicts to realise once again, fully, that the happiness of
a people can rest but on service, learning, and brother-
hood. Here are a few extracts from these edicts:
" There is no higher duty than the welfare of the entire world.
And the litfk effort that I am making has in view to liber-
ate me from my debt towards all living beings and to ren-
der some of them happy here on earth y while they can attain
heaven in the world beyond. All men are my children.
* They will receivy from me happiness not suffering."
" // is iKtb this unique tytention that I have erected refi-
gious columns ', that I have created surveyors of re//gi0x.
On the routes, I have planted nyagrodhas for Me purpose
of giving shade to men and animals; I have planted gardens
of mangoes y I have had wells dug^ and I have had built y in
a crowd of places, caravanserai for the enjoyment of men
and animals."
Il6 THE FRAGRANCE OF INEjjA
"By order of the king dear to the devas, officers of Tosadi,
appointed to carry on the administration of the town* must
know the following: you are placed over hundreds of thou-
sands of creatures in order to win the attachment of good
men. Every man is my child; even as I desire for my chil-
dren the enjoyment oj every kind of prosperity and happi-
ness in this world and in the next, I desire the same for aU
men." v
" In the past y for centuries, the murder of living befogs has
held sway, as well as violence towards creatures, the want
of respect toward parents, the want of ygard for Rah-
mans and cramanas. But today, the kijg Piyadasi, dear
to the devas, faithful to the practice of religion, lhas made
the voice of arums sound even as the voice of religion."
**' It is with such precepts that Asoka succeeded in
giving to his Empire* peace and happindss. What
a lesson for our modern Chiefs of State, both in the East
and the West 1 tt
When one reflects that India which had already is the
past given so many proofs of her moral force by the
voice of her most saintly sons was at the time of Asoka
one of the world's principal centres of culture and civili-
sation, centre united to China, Assyria, Persia, Greece,
by great commercial lines, one must not be astonished that
her brilliance extended over these far countries.* Conse-
quently, India influenced powerfully the currents of thought
both intellectual and spiritual, of these different peoples.
The missionaries sent to these countries by Asoka tad a
preponderating role in the transmission of this %ht.
Does not Pliny show them established ?>n the banks of the
Dead Sea ? Was it not these Asokian missionaries, as well
as Buddhists, who were the originators later on of the
Therapeuts and of the Essenians of Judea and .Arabia,
to whom Jesus went for instruction ? Is there not a narrow
parallelism between the life of Jesus and that of Bvtddha ?
We see this fertilising influence of Hindu thought equally ,
manifesting itself in Egypt in the form of Hermetic schools
TOy-TOMS AT CONJEEVARAM 127
dedicated to the cult of Isis and Osiris; in Greece and at
Rome in the 'growth of Mysteries of Dionysus, of Ceres,
and of Bacchus. Pythagoras and, later on, Apollonius
of Tyanae, as well as Plotifius, did they not all go toIndia
to draw their teachings from the source of Learning?
Lastly, from Xenophanes to Zenophon, the philosophy
of the Buddha, little by little, became popular through
opt the countries of the West.
While there passed before our mind this evoca-
tion of a glorious past, our ears were ringing with echoes
o*f the tom-t\ns of Conjeevaram. Their resonance
even mingled \rith our vision and it seemed to us that
through the continuous passing of the centuries, these
tom-toms heralded the coming of new great Educators,
those who bring with them real culture based on Natures
laws and \xftio when a civilisation crumbles into ruins
in consequence of its sins make it possible to rebuild the
world-r a new world on the ancient and everlasting
bases of true learning and the brotherhood of Man.
Oh ! tom-toms of Conjeevaram, like the tambour
of Shiva, continue to beat the rallying of the Pioneers,
the Builders of the World of Tomorrow.
PART in
CHAPTER XIV
A POET SAINT
IHAY^L just seen a saint, a real saint. Happy are the
nations to which saints are born, above all, when
those saints are also poets who sing their inner vision
of"life. 4
In tfyese modern days, a saint is a very rare sort of man,
as rare as the flower of the Udambara. By the word
"saint," we do not mean a man whose merits have been
easily Acquired as, for example, Benedict Labre wh^Jet
himself b^ devoured by insects? or one of those terrible
ascetics who break their bones or who sit upon nails.
But we are going to speak of a man truly pure and imper-
sonjl, tn whom the glory of life sparkles, whose smile is
as divine as a child's, and who advances over "the highways
of the clouds," as said Job.
Such a man is surrounded by an atmosphere charged
with sacred currents. He continually rejoices in the
happiness of others. He possesses a wisdom of soul which
dissipates the fijgs of illusion, a chastity of body and of
thought (which is more difficult) that aureoles his face,
a simple ^oy, even humour, which temperates his power-
ftrt^nergy. His radiance extends in golden beams over
all those who approach him. This man is fragrant. When
we discover him ifl the jungle of life, it is as if we opened
a beautiful Tii^ian casket n^de of fragrant sandal wood
and inlaid with ivory and precious stones. Within are
found marvellous herbs, goldened by the sun, the aromas
of the' soul.
Aryavarta is the land par excellence of sages and
saints. At least, it was in ancient times. I was going
meet this saint at Madras.
132 THE FRAGRANCE OF
It is evening. We are coming back from the Seven
Pagodas, where we have been contemplating the beauti-
ful *T)escent of the Ganges." On the lovely route taking
us back to Madras, our chauffeur puts on speed and we
spin along at nearly seventy miles an hour. We are
afraid of missing our appointment. But, we shall arrive
in time, for here is Madras with its bright lights. At
the hotel we hasten over our dinner and off we stay* towards
the bazaar quarter, where our saint lives. Every ev?ning7
crowds come to see him. He has been acclaimed in all
the great towns of India. At this moment, he exhibits
himself before me on enormous advertisements posted
at the entrance to his dwelling. He is a wry flashy kind
of a saint, are you thinking, good at least to join the
cinema stars.
c " You are right. Tukaram is his name. Everyone is
speaking of him. He clied in the xyth century. He
is a saint of yesterday. We are before a Hindu cinema.
Oh! not luxurious, just a big wooden hut. We, follow
the crowd which is composed only of Indians of both
sexes. Here is the hall, containing wooden benches with
backs; at the end is the screen. We install ourselves.
Before us are some young Hindu girls with their parents,
sprays of jasmine twined in their rich black hair. A
murmur of conversation. Hindus are rather good chat-
terboxes. "
Darkness suddenly falls over the hall. Silence.
The life of a saint is being shown, the life of the Poet
Saint Tukaram. A Hindu film, pukka Hindu, turned by
Indians, played by Indian artists. A film which has hren
running for months in most of the Indian qinemas and
translated into Tamil, Hindi, **"*
Tukaram is one of those poet saints of whom Indians
are justly proud. They represent an aspect of Indian
culture, above all, of Marathi literature. They have had
a great influence on the history of India. These poet
saints did not know the narrowness of dogmas nor of
castes, their mission being to enlighten the masses. The| r
i
t A POET SAINT 133
preached and sang liberty of soul by the mastery of the
passions. They tried unceasingly to raise the moral level
of their contemporaries by showing them, in the harassing
life of every day, the great eternal realities. This was
the aim and work of Dunyaneshwar, of Namdev in the
1 3th century, of Eknath in the i6th century, of Tukaram
in the iyth century. Their poems have become the
bible alr&ost of the poor, of the disinherited.
The life of Tukaram is touching in its simplicity.
In the film, it is sketched in large traits. Pretty Hindu
music, slightly modernised, makes a fitting accompani-
ment. TukarAm was born in 1608 at Dehu, in the Bom-
bay Presidenc^. His father was a farmer and also the
owner of a grocer's shop. In his childhood, as afterwards
in his mature life, Tukaram followed in his father's foot-
steps and gave his tribute of devotion to the divkrity,
Vithal,onfi of the forms of Vish&u. He became an orphan
at an early age. Helped by his brother, he continued in
his father's occupations . He married and had a son.
When he was about twenty years of age, a terrible famine
ruined him completely and, moreover, he lost his wife
and son. Tukaram struggled desperately against misfor-
tune. He married again, but alas! his second wife had
such an abominable character that hell commenced for
our poor poet. In the film, we see him constantly the
butt of the*te*oble tempers of this shrew, as yet untamed.
But in Tukaram there flowered that innocence of heart
that is the peculiar heritage of saints. To the reproaches
lUTO shouts of his wife, he opposes his gentleness, his
setfne philosophy, which he expresses in his poems and
sings to the accompaniment of his vina. In his simple
peasant's owSlling, in the fields, seated under a banyan
tree, he contemplates Nature, loses himself in her in a
comn\union so profound that he becomes a true bard of
goodness, duty, brotherhood. His soul becomes sensitive
to th'e least breath of humanity's great suffering and acqu-
ires the faculty of discerning the snares of life, the subtle
treachery of men, all that makes a calvary of existence.
134 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDCA
The story, as it is narrated in the film, shows us a Brahman
of dissolute habits, trying by his perfidy to mil? the growing
influence of Tukaram. (This debauched Brahman, profiting
by Imposition of priest to extort money from his faithful,
is, moreover, well hissed by the spectators.) But Tukaram
foils his intrigues. Nature, sometimes prodigal towards
her true sons, brings him rich, abundant harvests which,
in spite of the reproaches of his angry wife, he aistribuls^
among those who are in need. Samtliness grows ift him,
his radiance draws those who weep, those whose hearts are
too heavy with misfortune. He comforts, he aids, he siifgs
the truths learned in the solitude of his hrt. He knows
evil most certainly, nevertheless its wild wave n<5 longer
reaches him, it stops, it breaks before the dike of his love.
His face with its almost childlike expression is a lamp
wlilth enlightens the w^y. His smile is so enchanting
that in its magnetic contact, even his wife, in tfie evening
of Tukaram's life, becomes tamed and peaceful and under-
stands that love is of more value than hater And
both of them, according to the film, mount after
their death to Swarga, the dwelling of the gods, where all
is peace and silence.
What a beautiful life ! What a beautiful film, in which
in spite of some unskilfulness and naivet, which are
moreover charming, reigns an atmosphere that epchants
our soul, our eyes, and also our ears by the ^bbtle and mov-
ing music.
As for the Hindu crowd, it throbs with all its h**t.
It weeps in face of poor Tukaram's misfortunes. It rejoi-
ces with him in the measure that he transforms himself
and becomes a saint. It listens ardently to hiypocms, which
are, in reality, as many counsels for the little duties of daily
life.
"How can you unite yourself to the Supreme * oh t poor fools,
by living a worldly life ? Hew can you find joy in a Heap of
valueless objects which possess nothing essential? It ts
foolish to expect to sleep a happy ', peaceful sleep on an infectef
A POET SAINT 135
bed. Wine will surely render a drunkard unconscious even
of the stuff which enfolds him and he will scorn the advice
that is given to him" sings Tukaram.
"What good is it to be well-groomed exteriorly when interi-
orly our mind is filthy and covered with thick layers of lies
that have accumulated during the years of our existence ?
Purify your mind and your language, do not be hypocrites,
aylbe always a witness of what is passing in your mind.
Why do you touch this earth, which is forever holy, when
you do not even care about the merit or the guilt which results
from your actions that are polluting the earth as well as your
body, rendering them ungodly ? Why do you not purify
yourself, sanctify yourself , by freeing your self from lust and
anger? / entreat you to realise that you are the true way
bp which to acquire purity and saintliness, try then toftlfav
it" . . . sings Tukaram.
"Old age whispers in my ear that death is approaching with
long strides. Oh ! my spirit, hasten thyself, I beseech
*thec, to discover the place where eternal blessedness is found,
so that you may try to realise it. The last moment will
be of short duration, because death is lying in wait, watching.
It is why I pray you to free yourself from all attachments or
false and unreal connections and prepare yourself to meditate
on the dyty of your family. 9 ' sings Tukaram.
Tukaram ! Your songs, your smile, your brotherhood
are still discernible in this overturned world. They awaken
SSoes in some hearts, which is one more proof that we
should not despair of humanity and that we may aspire to
the day, sttfl very far off, no doubt, when multitudes of
men and wonSen will sing the old-as-time poems in their
homes. The poem of holy work which ennobles; the poem
which makes man a free being, free by the unfolding of
his spiritual consciousness, free of hate, free to think; the
poem* which brings to birth peace in the humble homes of
men; the poem by which those who have become truly men
fear the whispering of Nature, are aware of the little ant
136 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
which passes across the path, of the bee so busily engaged
in her task, aware of the wind murmuring *througn the
great pine forests, aware of the smallest aspirations o
humanity's heart. Then, then only, shall we be able to say
that the poet saints were right to sing life as it is and not
as we believe we see it. TTien, we shall come out of the
dim blind alleys of hypocrisy and egoism to enter into the
open, luculent glades of true spiritual values reconquered.
Be watchful. In life, there come mysterious meetings,
very simple ones too, which show how strange are the ways
of destiny. Tukaram has sung his life. We also ought
to try, as well as we can , to sing our life. This melody must
arise one day. It may be awakened by the^hime cff a bell,
by a garland of fragrant jasmine, by a blue smoke spiral-
ling upward on a summer evening, or by the meeting with
a being. It is then a glance, a smile, a word^ abbve all
else a silence between ourselves and this being. . . .After-
wards, it is a sound. . . .The marvellous song begins. The
sweetness of living is discovered. It is the light ofl'fe.
CHAPTER XV
ON THE ROAD TO MALABAR
/~\$i our return from Madras and Conjeevaram, we pass
1 1 through the rich region of Salem where the women are
1> celebrated for their beauty. It is true, they are
Very pretty. Such charm in their graceful gestures and
deportment 1 The Madrassi saris, too, with their vivid
colours, add a special brightness to their wearers.
Very far off, on the horizon, we see appearing once
more frhe faint outline of the beautiful Blue Mountaiifs.
How we fejoice to see them agin on this radiant August
morning ! We catch a glimpse of the enchanting summits
wrappgd in their eternal muslin of blue mists.
Before commencing the ascent, Ragwan, our "boy/*
goes to fetch, I do not know from where in the ravishing
village of Mettupalaiyam nestling at the foot of the moun-
tains, a succulent meal that we absorb under a shady vault
of great green palms. What a gamme of spices in this
curry which is composed of rice, potatoes, cauliflower,
curds, *peppt*-water, all served on large banana leaves 1
Rarely has a Hindu curry seemed to us so good.
. . . .And this morning, very early, after a last and brief
sojourn at Ootacamund on the heights of the blue and
fragrant mountain!, we are again en route. For hours and
hours, we roif along, but they seem short in spite of the
fatigue of the journey and the dust. There are so many
things. to see, above all to remember.
The car is overloaded with luggage, beddings (mattress-
es, blaiikets, pillows ). For weeks, we shall be travel-
ling over thousands of miles taking us from the shores of
tfie Indian Ocean in the South to Bombay, passing through
138 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDJtV
the State of Coorg, over the parched plains of Hyderabad,
then Ajanta, Nasik, the Bombay Presidency, and after-
wards. . . .Europe.
At present, our goal is the Coast of Malabar, Telli-
cherry, where we expect to arrive this evening about
7 o'clock. In spite of our heavy load, we spin along at
a good pace on the route for Mysore, after having zigzagged
warily down the steep, thickly-wooded slopes ot the
Blue Mountains. Mysore ! the city of gardens and palaces.
We are going to see it once more but it will be only a fleet-
ing view as we pass rapidly through it. They are so ftr
off now, those days passed in roaming through this in-
comparable Hindu town which shelter^ the goddess
Chamoundi, enshrined on her hill resembling a great
nave.
^Crack ! Explosion ! B^eak down. So much the better I
While the chauffeur is doing the repairs, we shall be able
to lie down under the cool shade ot a banyan tree. Right
here is one, in a field bordering the route. How delicious
to stretch oneself on the green grass which smells so sweet 1
All is calm, peaceful, pastoral in the immense plain
of Mysore where clusters of palms and coco palms make
refreshing spots of green on the landscape. In the distance,
far behind us, the beautiful Blue Mountains are still faintly
visible. Birds are warbling in the trees. A few passers-
by on the route. The sun grows hotter. -Ti is 10 o'clock
in the morning. Grasshoppers are singing gaily in the
tall grass. Above my head, in a banyan tree aged several
hundreds of years, whose branches are drooping down
to the earth to take root, some monkeys look at me with
an astonished air. They are doubtless verpvdispleased.
What has that one come to do here ? they seem to be think-
ing. They scratch their heads, they frown, they jump
from branch to branch with anxiety. I think they finally
come to understand that I love them, that I will do them
no harm although I am not a Tukaram because they
quieten down and begin again in a neighbouring tree their
reckless,^ happy gambols.
OK THE ROAD TO MALABAR 139
I almost fall asleep and I dream, not of a rapid
automobile Rut of a bullock-cart (an ancient cart harnessed
.with buffaloes or zebus) which carries me slowly, hither
and thither, for months and months along the routes of
India
My dear travelling companions call me. The repairs
are finished. My dream melts away. We swallow up the
miles. The banyans, the villages, the people fly past like
shooting stars. We must be at Mysore by mid-day.
Speed ! Always speed. Why, oh God ? To go quick-
ly* More quickly. Stop ! Before us, a bullock-cart.
The chauffeur honks. The cart, which certainly dates
from Vedic tintes, does not move. Or rather, it moves,
it continues its little trottrot in the middle of the
road. The chauffeur slows down, honks, re-honks.
The dtiver of the cart half puses himself. Without
doubt, he was fast asleep. With a special shout to
suit the occasion, he directs his animals on to the side
of the road by pulling their tails. But, as always, they
go hi the opposite direction and nearly overturn the cart
into the ditch. What a confusion ! My soul feels for the
driver who salutes us with a good-natured smile, the
zebus also, I believe.
We do not go far. Another bang. Another break-
down ! We are overloaded. Humiliation for the machine
. . . .Tnumpfi*ftn the bullock-cart which trots past us. Re-
pairs and we start again, slowly this time, which enables
us to contemplate at our ease the hill of Chamoundi
fSoming little by little out of the distance in a haze of gold.
On -the left, before the town, under the drooping fronds of
palms, are $\e royal tombs in the form of pagodas, where
are gathered tHe ashes of the *Maharajahs of Mysore. And
now come the broad avenues of the city, bordered by
sheltering trees; the palace of the Maharajah, the big
square, the little low houses in the shady streets. It is
o o clock in the afternoon. Few people are about.
is the siesta hour. We are late by our time-table. We
along through the vast parks filled with masses of
140 THE FRAGRANCE OF INQfA
flowers. Gladioli, gigantic cannas, heliotropes, roses,
are still a dasding fairy scene under a gretn canopy of
great palms.
. A .In the cool shade of majestic cedars. A powerful
wind is playing rich, deep tones on the organ of their bran-
ches, accompanied by the cawing of crows. Rapid lunch.
We must hasten. Biscuits, bread, cheese, bananas, and
pineapples. Hundreds of crows trace arabesques around
us. They are hungry, the poor things. Oh! ope of
them, more audacious than the rest, makes a sudden peck
with his hungry, yellow beak, seizes a beautiful piece* of
bread-and-butter that our companion was holding in hfer
hand and carries it off. What impudence ! * He might have
carried away her finger too. No matter. We forgive
him, it is a crow of India. However, he overdoes
if. *He is coming back, still cawing in a very exacting
manner. It is like human beings, they have and^they wish
to have more. That reminds me of a good story which
was told to me one day in the Blue Mountair^.
Once upon a time, there was an ascetic who lived
alone in a cave. Each day, he washed bis one piece of
clothing. But, alas! each day the mice gnawed away
a little more of the poor garment while it was drying on
the grass in the sun. The ascetic thought : "I ought
to have a cat/' The next day, he had one. A few days
afterwards, the cat died for want of miUt.- *"I ought to
have a goat/' murmured the noble man. Some good
people offered him one. However, the goat,' then the
little goats, the result of legitimate love, the new cat, rfll"tf
them turned the ascetic away from his meditations^ "I
ought to take a wife, " was the sudden f and subtle thought
which came into his mind. ^Then, he martfecL The milk
of a goat for two and a cat is very little. With the charity
they received, the couple bought a cow. It was necessary
to have a stable, and a hut instead of a cave. The cow,
the calf, the cat, and the wife obliged the ascetic to hire'
a field. Some years after all these tribulations, our saint-
ly man had become the greatest capitalist of the viUagf:.
OV THE ROAD TO MALABAR
Such is life in this funny, upside-down world.
. ...Thtf&e reflections do not hinder us from saying
goodbye to Mysore, to its fairy gardens, to ChamouncB
enthroned aloft on her hill.
The route again. We pass Seringapatam, where
there is a pretty temple, celebrated for its pilgrimages.
It stands under the cool shade of a girdle of fig trees. At
the end of the village, stands the ancient fortress of the
Sultay Tipoo. Since the long-ago battles in these parts
between the French and the English, Nature has regained
he legitimate rights. The vegetation is luxuriant and
rich and the sacred river, the Cauvery, which will soon
swell with momsoon rains, still brings freshness to the
surrounding countryside.
We stop an instant in order to enter an old cemetery
where, under crumbling and forgotten tombs, Frencfi
soldiers of bygone days are lying. Humble heroes of
a day. ^Tiat melancholy in the warm wind which gent-
ly fans t the little flowers growing up here and there in the
cracks of the mossy tombstones. Their effaced names
will never be read again !
We also visit the exquisite palace which was formerly
the favourite retreat of the Sultan Tipoo. The interior
is admirable, full of paintings and fine sculptures, which
recall to our minds the Palaces of Ispahan. In the beauti-
ful park wifh* its sleeping waters, rises the mausoleum
where the Sultan was buried. But we are obliged to leave
this lovely spot, full of silence, broken only by the
^ffids singing in their flowering solitude.
^t a fork of the road, we leave on oftr right the
way leading to Efrindavan, the "Versailles" of Mysore.
Two months %go, we passed a beautiful evening there
beside one of the largest artificial lakes in India, which
supplies the whole of the surrounding country with its
waters. The engineers who executed this gigantic work
have united utility to beauty. There, where formerly ex-
tended vast scorched and parched plains, today, not only do
reautiful and abundant harvests come to enrich the country,
THE FRAGRANCE OF INDf A
but vast terraced gardens adorned with cascades, fairy
fountains, glowing in the evening under the*play of elec-
tric lights, make this corner a place full of charm and magni-
ficence. Decidedly, the State of Mysore is remarkable
from all points of views. As said the French historian,
J. Michaud, in 1800: "The plains of Mysore are the most
magnificent dwelling that Nature could offer to men on
the earth." ,
We are now travelling along a route borderecj on
each side with immense forests, a nearly impenetrable
jungle, the haunt of wild elephants and tigers. We qijic-
ken speed, the eternal speed, so as not to journey during
the night in this rather formidable jungle, which has,
however, a luxuriant, revelling beauty. We repress
the temptation to stop again. C. looks at his watch
tfith anxiety. Five o'clock in the afternoon. In these
wild, wooded places, tf is night about seveto o'clock.
We race along. The coast of Malabar is still far off, very
far. We have to cross a mountain chain where the domi-
nation of the jungle extends its sovereign sway. What
does it matter ! Our eyes and soul are so filled with
beautiful visions that it makes up amply for everything.
....Six o'clock. The route descends in zigzags.
It is the magic hour. The rays of the setting sun have
set thegbats on fire. The jungle becomes red, then violet,
mauve. This wonderful scene makes us forget our hunger.
Doleful discovery ! Our boxes of provisions are empty.
At each village we pass through, it is impossible to find
anything at all, not even three bananas. There is notlrht^
left for us to do but to think of the royal pi/afwhigh is
waiting for us at Tellicherry. V4ry prosaic, these
thoughts ! f *
Night has come. The route still zigzags down the
ghats towards the Indian Ocean. Broken with fatigue,
we doze. That lasts for five minutes, ten minutes....
Bang 1 A sudden halt. We wake up. I ask what is the*
matter. Another burst tyre, to a front wheel this tim$,
I look at my watch; it is midnight. I have slept for nearly
/ r
O}T THE ROAD TO MALABAR 143
three hours. Where are we ?
Benumbed, we get out of the car. The jungle, the
vast, teeming jungle surrounds us on all sides. C is
happy. He is again in his jungle which he loves so qpiuch.
A few poor houses of wood, a little bridge, the dear sing-
ing of a brook, the white ribbon of the route descending
towards the far-away sea, some turbanned men who have
rome to look at us. A landscape of jungle illumined by
a full moon, the magnificence of which in India is of
indescribable beauty. What sweetness in the mild air!
And over all a noise. The noise of the jungle. The
pulsing life of the jungle. It is something prodigious.
The crocking of frogs, the cristal flutes of toads, the hoot-
ing of night birds, the ceaseless tricksome song of
crickets, the cheeping 'of innumerable insects, beasts of
darknegs crawling in the tangled undergrowth, makir/g
the dead wood crack, the desolftte howls of chacals, the
roaring of a far-off tiger, the trumpeting of a wild elephant,
the soughing of the night wind that can hardly make its
way t ttfrough the thick, heavy fronds of the trees, and
lastly, the dance of golden fireflies, myriads of living sparks
which seem to have sprung out of an invisible fire.
Moreover, from the throbbing earth mounts the perfume
of wild jasmine mingled with the dankness of ages. How
thrilling are the nights of the jungle !
We starw^fF again. We shall always remember this
forced stop in the night.
Two o'clock in the morning. The air becomes
, oX 4^htly fresher. We are nearing the coast of Malabar.
Here^ are the first houses of Tellicherry bathed in moon-
light! Coco palmf fly rapidly past. Streets, where there
are still soi?le Sndians chatting ; an avenue; a muffled roar-
ing, the waves of the Arabian Sea. Another street.
Houses the colour of milk standing under coco palms.
The car stops at last. A bungalow: the house of our
(tear G We are "at home."
^ The servants who no longer awaited us appear, their
efes puffed with sleep. We look over the^ spacious,
144 THE FRAGRANCE OF INIHA
pleasant bungalow. Then a shower. Afterwards
the dining room, in which are two inestimable things
a cook wearing a majestic turban and on th<
table r the pibf* the marvellous pilaf so long waited for
Alas 1 we are no longer hungry. Fatigue ovei
comes all. Tomorrow, yes, tomorrow, we will eat i
with joy in this bungalow that I already love so much
because of he who lives in it.
CHAPTER XVI
THE ENCHANTMENT OF THE COAST
OF SPICES
I AM awakened by a hubbub made by some frensied
crows and the querulous bleating of a goat.
I pull up the blind. A riot of light blinds me for
an instant. It* is seven o'clock. On this dazzling mom-
ing at the end of August, the temperature is already hot.
The monsoon is over, or nearly so, on the coast o^
Malabar. A few days ago was Coconut Day. This event
marks th end of the major monsoon and is celebrated
wuh great pomp. Thousands of coconuts were picked
and amassed on the beach to the accompaniment of many
songs and dances.
Around the bungalow, the sun's rays glint through
the fronds of the palms which are swaying gently in the
hot morning breeze. All is adorably green. The recent
rains have washed away the dust of the preceding dry
months. From my window, I can see the tender green
carpet *of rife fields on the other side of the route. The
birds are carolling with joy to see the sun again after the
monsooA deluges.
We go to find C. in his bureau with its big bay
window opening % on to a forest of coco palms. He is
already at rork, attending to the daily business of corres-
pondence, wlilch has accumulated during our pilgrimage.
We leave him with his employees and look admiringly
round- his office which is furnished in such good taste.
All the furniture is appropriately made of Indian rose-
iwood.
% After an excellent breakfast of which we appreciate
the juice of freshly-picked pineapple and thc^efcffee with
146 THE FRAGRANCE OF
buffalo's milk, served by Gopal, the Hindu cook, res-
pectful and majestic in his turban we stroll along to the
Tellicherry Club, which is about five hundred yards from
our bungalow.
The eternal carts drawn by zebus or buffaloes are
jogging along the very animated road. All seems joyous.
TelSchery, with its 35,000 inhabitants, is a town which
seems happy The joy of living is written on all faces,
in spite ofthe poverty which is here, as it is in the whole
of India. Without doubt, among these poor people,
poverty is roving everywhere, even around the charming
bungalows which border the road. But at Tellicherry,
the poverty is not in rags. The streets are clean; the
/ek&artSy light carriages drawn by trotting little horses,
Jnve gaily past; the houses hide under great green palms,
as though to shield ther happiness even if it be short-
lived. What is the cause of this appearance of Comfort ?
I am going to know.
The Club is a large building in Oriental style built
on a promontory of rather low cliff and surrounded by
extensive woodlands. It is, moreover, admirably kept
by its secretary, a business man of the Coast, seconded
by his charming and devoted wife. Mr. and Mrs. R.
are Swiss, which is to say everything. Furthermore, they
are excellent friends. The Club is a credit to them. People
come from all parts of the South to enjoy its rest and good
cooking. The drawing room, dining room, billiard room,
the famous game of skittles, all arc admirably arranged
for relaxation, reading one's favourite books, games,
enjoying gastronomic delicacies. On the first floo* are
comfortable rooms. (
We go out on to the terrace with its wliite colonnade,
from where the view is splendid. A delicious fresh breeze
is blowing. Before us stretches the immensity of the
Indian Ocean, whose long surge swells lazily over the
foot of the cliff. The Arabian Sea, blue-green, irised by '
the myriad fires of the Southern sun, laps against the coast/
the rocks ad an island with a dome or green palms, look-
THE COAST OF SPICES 147
ing like an emerald.
On the right and left are smiling bays, with almost
fose sands, and, as far as the eye can see, thick forests of
coco palms reaching to the marge of the Ocean. It is the
Coast of Spices, the coast which smells good of cinnamon,,
nutmeg, pepper, ginger Sailing on the sea are great
olden-time boats with picturesque sails, carrying in theitr
holds precious cargoes of spices, seeds, coconuts, destined
for the far-off shores of Arabia and the Persian Gulf.
Fortunate coast, whose gifts and beauty are provided by the
earth, how could it not give a confident smile to its children*
who are nourished from its soil ?
We* are never weary of watching this scene. Sitting
in the garden out on the headland, surrounded by velvety
lawns, gay flowers, coco palms slanted by the sea wind, w^
listen to the murmur of the peaceful surge, while our eyes
roaip^evtfr the bays, the nearby river, the happy islands,,
over the immense translucent sea. Malabar coast ! The
birtljpUce of Sankaracharya, the great spiritual reformer,
the philosopher, the mystic, one of the most extraordinary
men of India.
....Afternoon. After having enjoyed the savoury
J>iJttf 9 scr longjooked-forward to, containing all the spices
of the Coast, we set out to visit the port of Tellicherry,
or rather,, its beach, where great pirogues embark bales
/> -merchandise, rice, coconuts, cashew nuts, superb blocks
of rose-wood coming from the jungle through which we
passeS yesterday. flThis freight is then transported to big~
ocean stearffers%and placed on board, because there is no
quay here, except for a jetty to'which small coastal steamers
come. Then, we turn our steps towards the picturesque
river, with coco palms leaning over its banks. This is
^he place of repairs for curious old-time boats with raised
ocows and triangular sails, still permeated with the tenacious,
'olour of spices.
We start off $ow by car for Cannanore^tRKnersihg-
148 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
beautiful country where coco palms are predominant. On
our left is the Indian Ocean. Along the furnace-like route,
we admire the big parasol hats made of plaited fibre, which
the Indians of Malabar wear. Here, the women generally
wear white saris. Bright coloured ones, richly embroider-
ed, are sometimes worn but chiefly by the wealthy class.
As for the men, they mainly wear the eternal dhoti clinging
round their legs or forming a skirt, but sometimes simply
a shirt which floats freely over the hips. *
Cannanore is a pretty town, as arc most of the 'towns
on the Coast of Malabar. The view over the sea is very
beautiful. Here are made various objects c^f coconut shells:
tea services, ash-trays, lamps, all encircled with silver or
copper. The town was visited long ago by Vasco da Gama.
>07e stay here for a short time and then return to Teljicherry .
This return is engfaved with charm and' sweetness.
Twilight is falling over the Coast of Spices. A'ligh* haze,
like a gossamer, of golden mauve spreads over the coco
palms. Bullock-carts are plodding tranquilly hbme to
their stables. Women and young girls, with their slender
waists and prominent hips, are coming from the wells,
carrying urns of copper or earthenware on their heads. In
the villages that we cross, the little lights in the bazaars
are already lighted and are showing up the colourful heaps
of mangoes, oranges, bananas, pineapples, coconuts,
baskets in sparterie, bottles of perfume, silver girdles and
bracelets, while a pungent, overpowering odout of spices
impregnates every bazaar. And in the humble dwellings,
as in the temples, the beautiful lamps of Malabar are
kindled, lamps formed of copper plates superposed and
suspended on chains, the flame being fed fey dfwick soaked
in coconut oil.
The sun has sunk behind the islands. It is the even-
ing. Evening of dreams and of deep peace.
The Allowing morning. From the little headlaQd
before 'clie Club, we climb down a staircase carved in the
1 THE COAST OF SPICES 149
rock, leading on to the hot rose sands. In the shelter of
a creek, we pjunge into the nearly blue water of the Arabian
Sea. There is no fear of sharks off this coast. What a
refreshing swim ! We shall be fit for the tiring day ahead:
errands in Tellicherry, lunch, and then en route for iftahe.
While waiting for lunch, from the beach we watch
the return of the fishermen. The fishermen of Malabar
profit by the ocean swell to cast their long pirogues up on
to'the beach. With a melodious chant, they draw up their
canoes on to the rosy dune. The boats are full to over-
flowing with sardines and other fish, ray, salmon, soles.
Ttfe depths of the seas which wash the Coast of Spices are
as rich as its soil. How handsome and brave these fisher-
men Io6k with* their copper-coloured bodies. They sell
their fish immediately, and it is then poured out into large
plaited baskets. Afterwards, the nets, which smell goci>
of iodine,are spread out in the un to dry. At the next
tide^thsywill start out again, untiringly. In their slender
pirogues, singing in their captivating rhythm, they will
pull off over a phosphorescent sea, under a burning sun or
by fhe magic light of the stars.
MAHE THE SILENTIOUS
Lunch is finished, the hour has come for our
departure for Mahe, a fragment of French territory some
miles f*om Tf llicherry. It will not take long to cover the
distance by car. Immediately after leaving the town, the
route passes under a thick green vault of coco palms.
Villages come one after the other. On the right, the
great voice of the sea accompanies us. The wind is fairly
strorfg. How pretty this road is, hemmed in between two
banks entifcly^carpetcd with wild ferns ! It follows the
contour of the Coast of Spices. Sometimes, it penetrates
a little into the interior of the land, then emerges again to-
wards the ocean. We catch sight of fishermen's hamlets,
clusters of huts before which the fishing nets are spread
^t to dry in the sun and wind. On the left, the railway
o follows the capricious windings of the coast. We pass a
150 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
train which, of course, is full. At its doors can be seen the
eternal travellers smiling, chattering, and gazing at the
landscape. After a detour in the route, we come to a bridge
spanning a wide river. A Hindu cipaye with white gaiters*,
white belt, blue uniform, gives us a military salute and asks
for our papers. It is the French frontier. On the other
side of the bridge is Mahe.
Mahe of India ! Mahe, so marvellously described
by Pierre Loti nearly half a century ago, after he had spnt
several hours there. f
We leave the car and walk over the bridge across the
river of Mahe. On our right is the mouth of the rrJer,
where great breakers are dashing over the coast. On
both banks is an uninterrupted forest of Voco palms. It
is three o'clock in the afternoon. Even under the coco
^alms it is hot, for the sea wind can scarcely find its way
under the thick green vault.
Here we are then at Mahe. How calm everything is !
We follow the meanders of the river and we come to a little
square planted with sea pines and coco palms. In all
French towns, there must be a square and some benches,
as at Pondicherry and Karikal. It is the custom. Here
then at Mahe, there is a square with benches and, in a cor-
ner..,, the statue of the French Republic. This place is
pervaded with infinite charm. In the first place, at this
hour, it is solitary. It looks over the vast ojean ad over
the mouth of the river. The opposite shore of the river is
a mass of flourishing green foliage and a long sanely beach.
On the left, at the end of the square, stands the Palace of the
Residency, empty of Resident.* One has to say "palace"'
when speaking of the domicile of the c Social representative
of a great country. In reality, it is a largp oW-fashioned
house, built on the headland/ It looks like an old provin-
cial mansion. We enter and visit its huge rooms furnished
in the mode of a century ago: the reception room with its
V
*This visit to Mah was made in 1937. At that time, they
was no Administrator. r
\ THE COAST OF SPICES 151
antique furniture covered by protecting covers; the dining
room; the Resident's bureau, like that of a provincial
notary; the rooms on the first floor which lead on to a
'veranda. From this veranda, the view over the rivr, the
trees, and the ocean, is magnificent.
There is a curious thing about the park. Whereas
outside there are nothing but palms and coco palms, in the
Residency park there are no tropical trees, so to say, but
only one-hundred-year-old trees resembling chestnuts and
superb Australian pines . It seems that the first inhabitant of
this house wished to forget that he was in Asia, in the India
of palms, in order to think but of his little far-away province
somewhere in f France. In the deserted alleys, romantic
stone seats, covered with moss of years, have the air of wait-
ing for Madame la Marquise, followed by her gallant loven
in pondered wig and cuffs and collar of lace. But the ilkf
sion quickly vanishes, for arounfl the headland the Arabian
Sea,i0"brtaking with roars over the coral reefs, outside the
"gates the green vault of coco palms shelters the road, and
nearb^ can be seen the fishing village with huts covered
with dried palm leaves. We are certainly in India ! There is
also the Hindu servant who accompanies us to the gates and
offers us with many respectful salaams a superb bunch of
red roses.
We go now towards the centre of Mah. We take I
*was going ta say the "main street" let us say the sanguine
street, full of shade. Parrots are screeching in the trees
and birds from the islands are flying swiftly past. Here and
there, huts shelter under the great palms, and bungalows
with projecting roofs supported by white colonnades
stancl in the middle of an enclosure where roses, jasmine,
and bushe? of Jiibiscus make gay splashes of colour beneath
the banana trees and coco palms. All is so calm at Mah !
All is silence. On the slightly mounting road, we pass
a few Indians. They are in no way different from those
on the other side of the frontier. They look at us with
la surprised air. Now and then, we meet an ancient cart
tlrawn bv zebus, loaded with straw, creaking and
152 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDlfi
in a very pastoral way.
Ah 1 the French flag. A heart-warming encounter.
It is the Town Hall. A very simple little house. Then, we
come m to the great square, in reality this time, surrounded
with coco palms and other tall trees. A group of young
Hindus in semi-European costume a dhoti and a jacket
emerges from a street and advances to meet us. They have
recognised C. who is very much liked at Mah6 and on t^e
Coast of Malabar. They address us joyously in
French. It is true. French Indians. Presentation. 'Sur-
prise on the part of the young men. They know me 'well.
They have read my articles on our pilgrimage in India
which have been translated into English by a friend and
published in the journal The Hindu, a daily of Madras.
They ask for some details about our voyage and are glad to
r&ik to some compatriots whose country they have never
seen their country and* that doubtless they will never
see. They are handsome, these young men, fufr^.^fe,
with dark velvety eyes. What are they going to do in tfie
future ? For want of employment, they will expatriate
probably, as do many others, to Indo-China or elsewhere. .
With regret, we leave our new friends and continue
our promenade towards the bazaar, because, of course,
Mahe has a bazaar. It is not a very important one, there
are not many shops, but they are there, with their hoard of
merchandise, their stuffs, their fruit, and their great baskets.
This quarter is a little more animated than the rest of the
town. Fishermen, peasants, women with their cdiildren
astride one hip. But all these people are silentious, hardly
a sound.
Suddenly, a noisy crowd. A cipaye disperses* the
people with an authoritative wave of his ajrm m order to
allow us to pass. With our Colonial helmets, he certainly
takes us for ministers and the wife of a minister on an
official visit. In the middle of a circle of curious onlookers,
a fakir is making some mysterious experiments. He contor-
tions himself into difficult postures, dances on swords,j
jungles withjiaming torches, swallows a variety of things,'
JTHE COAST OF SPICES 153
and many other tricks that the crowd gazes at in silence,
rather indifferent.
Leaving the fakir to his conjuring, as well as my
companions, whom I shall rejoin later at a friend's house*
where we have been invited for dinner, I return alone along
the shady streets already taken. They are a little more
animated at this late hour. The hot wind grows stronger,
it bends the great palms, and the muffled roar of the Arabian
Sea drowns the scant sounds of Mah the Silentious.
A heavy perfume rises from the earth: the perfume of
spices. 1 It comes from the threshold of a hut where a Hindu
woman is preparing her frugal evening meal. On a
polished stone, she is crushing seeds of spices which she
will cook in some ghee (melted butter) and then mix with a
handful of rice. For her, this will be an excellent meal.
It pursues me, this odour of spices. It exhales also from
the trees. * '
S0*wr fresh, clear voices, children's voices. I am pass-
ing" the school and the young students are just coming
out. ( About fifty boys and girls, their books under their
arms, are chattering among themselves. They return to
their huts, or to the more comfortable family bungalow,
without romping or shouting. These Mahe children are
pretty. The boys are dressed in a white blouse and
knickers. The girls in long dresses of different colours.
Most of them,, of course, are carrying an umbrella. It does
not rain, it is marvellous weather, but an umbrella is
needful>^J[t served during the monsoon, it serves nowfor the
sun, in spite of the great palms which are natural parasols.
The fact is that the parasol plays a great role in the life of
every* Indian. In *the first place, it is a luxury, it looks
well. Cantt n^t be said also that it is symbolic ? Certain
bas-reliefs in the temples prove it to us. The gods are
often sheltered under parasols. One could not receive
with impunity the full rays of life's real sun. One must
shelter ^ oneself. The frame of the parasol represents the
jtaeat Sages who radiate the light and warmth of Nature's
heart. The handle is held bv each individual and he can
154 THE FRAGRANCE OF
put himself in touch with one of these Sages and thus re-
ceive the blessings of Life. But that is another profound
story. Who in India remembers it ? Doubtless, a few.
But let us return to our children.
*J speak to the school master, who is the last to leave
the school. He is a young, cordial Hindu. He greets me
with a smile and speaks to me in French tinged with a
slight Malabar accent that causes his speech to be slightly
clipped. I ask his permission to photograph his students.
Immediately, he very kindly calls them. Some Stifled
laughter. It is an event. Some of the elder girls of
about fifteen years of age, run away timidly. I gather
together the youngest among them and their various poses
are quite natural and unexpected. Then begins a conver-
sation with the school master. He speaks of the progress of
jiis pupils, for whom he has a deep attachment, and also
of the difficult future for the boys who remain in<rhe colony.
Happy children, in spite of all ! That is wht*3Uhink
when taking leave of this good school master. If fKelf
life is difficult later on, they will have had a peaceful child-
hood, joyous and untroubled under the great palms of
Mahe, beside the immense open sea, for all their present
poverty. They will keep the remembrance of the long-ago
happy days and it will be for them a fragrance sweetening
the anxieties of their mature lives.
While these thoughts are running throvgh my mind,
I suddenly find myself again on the little square, near the
Residency. Indian compatriots are occupying sorae of the
benches and are chatting tranquilly among themselves,
as they do each day, while gazing out over the ocean. I
install myself on an empty bench and m^eyes also are drawn
towards the immense moving expanse, to the ^reat waves
breaking over the coral reef s. The tide is coming in. It
swells the waters of the river. I watch the manoeuvres of a
fisherman. Standing naked in water reaching to his waist
he bends to and fro with a beautiful gesture throwing a net.
which he then draws in and lets fall on the beach. It is ful
of sardines. On another part of the beach, some half-
THE COAST OF SPICES 155
naked little girls, their hair ruffled by the sea wind, are
picking up ^pa shells. On my left, behind the palms, the
Coast of Spices coils round and plunges down towards the
South of India, towards Calicut, Cochin, and far, very fai*
towards Rameshwaram, Ceylon. . . .
I am alone now in the square. Far over the ocean,
on the horizon, the golden disc climbs down the sky in the
faerie of the evening. The great palms become purple.
Tlie river, ablaze in the red radiance, is shimmering with a
myriad ripples of fire. Everything is glowing. The coral
reefs between the waves, seem to be flames surging up
frcftn a deep-sea city, inhabited by Agni, the god of fire.
An apotheosis splendoured by thousands of red rays.
Suddenly, undef Nature's invisible hand, all is transformed
and turns to green-orange, mingled with soft mauve.
It is the sacramental hour, the hour of recollection, whe^a
the Mother, the sacred Heart of alVthings, shows herself in
her jpfefcke compassion and love.
'"*" Mahe the Silentious falls asleep, peacefully, cradled
by the song of the restless surge and fanned by the wind's
cool breath fragrant with jasmine and cinnamon.
In the clear night, under the vault of palms,
I climb the route and wend my way towards the Chouse
of the friends where I am awaited. Another magic extends
over Mah. Through the fronds of the coco palms,
lattice 4he silvery rays of the moon and the sparkling stars
of the East. From the huts and bungalows, little lights
twinkle, put over the leaves of the banana trees. In the
silence can be heard the flute-like laugh of a child and
the crickets' tricksome tune, accompanied by the eternal
song* of the wind and the sea.
Cs kfcid ^friends receive me with effusion. They
live near the big square in ahouse half-colonial and half-
European. In a large room on the first floor, with astonish-
ment I see on the walls some old lithographs represent-
ing President Camot, Loubet, and .... Queen Victoria.
H^mat a mixture I But, I am told that the grandfather
6f the family was for many years the mayor of Mah.
1 5 6 THE FRAGRANCE OF INE^A
Everything has an explanation.
In a pleasant atmosphere, we enjoy a delicious meal,
composed of cooked bananas stuffed with raisins, rice
<arith curry, chutnies containing the strongest spices of
Malabar. After dinner, the two little girls sing, in their
pretty voices, Hindu songs celebrating the glory of Vishnu
and Krishna, accompanied by a cithare.
At our departure, this hospitable family puts into
our arms a parcel containing a tea service carved by the
father in coconuts and encircled with silver.
Goodbye, Mahd the Silentious ! In the car taking
us back to Tellicherry, I turn iound to see it for the fest
time. It is sleeping, dreaming, under the stars, cradled
by the waves and the wind. Tomorrow, *it will 'awaken
under the green palms to the twittering of joyous birds.
It is the last day, alas ! at TelJicherry.
is the departure for our long voyage. ~ *
This morning, another swim. Then, errands to the
bazaar and preparations : trunks, beddings, provisions
for the journey At this moment, we have just finished
lunch, a lunch in the preparation of which Gopal the
cook surpassed himself. C. is lying on a sofa and we
are both sipping coffee which has grown on the slopes
of the Blue Mountains. ' *
But, here is the cobbler, he is bringing me two
pairs of shoes made to measure in two days. Xkey cost
three rupees the pair and will last for years. It is for
nothing. Now, it is the proprietor, a huge Mussulman
still young. He is bringing us son^s gifts: a bauti-
ful silver cup and" a superb Malacca caije Surmounted
with a buffalo horn. How generous these people are.
It is true that the presence of C. is largely responsible
for it.
Before dinner, we return to the Club. We wish to
see the Coast of Spices for the last time. From undedf
the white colonnade of the veranda, we look out over
1
THE COAST OF SPICES 157
the Arabian ^Sea. In a few weeks, we shall be ploughing
through its mighty swell. Today, it is still more beauti-
ful, more blue, more caressing. The rocks, the island^
and the coast are fringed with white spray. Tht^Iate
afternoon air is incomparably sweet. In the joyous bays,
the coco palms bow graciously, as if to salute this earth
of abundance which yields its spiced perfume. At the
foot of the promontory, seagulls are skimming exultantly
over*the foam-flecked waves.
Sometimes not always Nature can really stanch
OUT moral wounds. It seems as if we ought to be able
to feel her nearer to us. Respecting her, she would come
to us a*nd giv us hope, confidence in our energies, lift
us above the uglinesses, help us to forge a better humanity,
in whom beauty would shine over the world, as this beauty
here around us which enchantst and which is manifesteid
ven to the horizon, over the Coast of Spices. . . .
CHAPTER XVII
THE FLUTE OF SHRI KRISHNA
WE are speeding along towards the temple of
Somanathpur. I close my eyes an instant in
order to review in thought all that we huve
seen since our departure from Tellicherry. So many things
have passed in rapid visions during those two days.
At first, at C's bungalow, there were the touching
goodbyes of the servants, the employees; the car full of
bananas, pineapples, cakes, gifts to the wanderers that
we are. Then, mounting the ghats into the ungiense
jungle on a delicious early morning freshened with frdg^
rant dews, we thence traversed the State of Coorg ' where
tigers and wild elephants hold their sovereign dominion.
We left them to their solitary combats. Afterwards, we
crossed on a bac with much emotion on account of the
car a river swollen by monsoon rains, and thence arrived
at one o'clock in the afternoon at Mcrcara, a little town
situated at an altitude of about 6,000 feet, from wh^re we
obtained a beautiful view over the mountains and plains.
We had our lunch on the edge of a bank to th^accom-
paniment of a concert of coocoos and grasshoppers, and
then started off again in the midday heat in ^rder to arrive
late that same evening at Belur. The next day, we visit-
ed its beautiful temple, as well as that of Halebiti. These
temples are pure marvels of Hoysala architecture.
There is not an inch of stone that is not sculptured with
an art pushed to the extreme. The ceilings of Belur and
of Halebid are admirable with scenes from the lives of
the gods. On the West side of the temple of Halebid,
a Shiva dancing and another Shiva with his tambour are ,
attesting by ^ the life and rhythm in their movement.
a
o
CO
THE FLUTE OF SHRI KRISHNA 159
Now, as we are spinning along towards Somanath-
pur, all these ^pictures of temples class themselves in my
mind with the country passed through. My mind becomes
a lovely album whose pages I have only to turn. <*****
The route that we are following is as pastoral as
could be -wished. Villages built of beaten earth standing
in-the middle of palm groves; rice fields; hills covered with
green foliage; the inevitable bullock-carts jogging along
loaded. with straw; women carrying on their heads large
baskets. filled with stalks of sugar cane.
A little lake on our left and soon after we arrive
at Somanathpur. It is the zgth August and a burning hot
afternoon*. I ha^e special reasons for hastening to visit
the temple. Today is Krishna Day. Ever since this
morning, my thoughts have turned towards a deep, moving
subject df pieditation. ,
"The Day of Krishna 1" It is a special day in India.
A very great fete. All the devotees of Shri Krishna,
and thei are millions, celebrate this day with solemnity.
It is sft Mathura, in the North of India, that the great fete
takes place, because there is the birthplace of the Lord.
But, in the temple of Somanathpur, I know there will
be a statue of Krishna and before it I want to recollect
myself and think of the "Mysterious Lord."
Apajrt from a few Hindus who are strolling through
t the great court of the temple, we are the only visitors.
The deep silence of the noonday heat reigns, silence
broken only by the joyous calls of swallows and by the
wind swirling under the stone vaults.
In-the middle of a quadrangle, surrounded by a gallery
with sculptured pilfars, stands the temple. It is in the
same Mysorian style as Belur and Halebid. Although
it is of modest dimensions, it is certainly the most symmet-
rical and the ' most finely sculptured of all the temples
in this style.
, The temple dates from the i3th century. It is built
on a stone platform, to which one gains access by a few
Steps, and is surmounted with three pyraiqjdal towers
l6o THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
that are veritable jewels of architecture. From top to
bottom, the whole temple is an orftvrerie o? rather a lace-
work in stone. On the base, outside, are sculptured
*fc|Lc scenes from the Mahabharata and the 'Rjttmayana. Above,
the gods and goddesses of the Hindu Pantheon are shelter-
ed by a canopy or by parasols. One can never weary
of looking at this beautiful sculpture which reveals the
patience and the skill of the artists of that epoch.
Inside, the temple is rather sombre. A surprise.
I am brought to a standstill before a stone image of Janard-
ana that I certainly never thought to find here. It L one
of the names given to Krishna and signifies "He whom
humanity adores." He is standing and holds a sceptre
in each hand.
However, it is not that particular figure, beautiful
as it is, that I want to contemplate. It is , another. I
peer into the shadows, admiring the ceiling on which
Rama is represented in the attitude of blessing Sita, who
holds a sceptre in her hand, and then I perceive in a cellule
on the South side of the temple a stone figure, barely
distinguishable in the gloom, which nevertheless attracts
me. It is the one.
Shri Krishna stands in his classic pose of such in-
finite charm, playing on his flute. He is in the centre
of a sculptured portico; his right leg is crossed, over the
left one, his feet are bare, his ankles are encircled
with jewelled anklets; his hips, slightly inclined, are
covered with adornments; his two hands are poised over
his flute in the gesture of a flutist, the fingers resting on the
holes of the instrument, of which, unfortunately, a part
is missing; his lips are half-open, as it in process of taking
breath; necklaces are entwined around his neck and des-
cend upon his naked breast; his head is crowned with a
diadem. An admirable sculpture, of which the face is
imprinted with a superhuman and serene beauty. Yes,
it is Govinda, the divine Shepherd, thus called because
he passed a part of his youth among the shepherds.
How Coving is this evocation of the great Avatar
THE FLUTE OF SHRI KRISHNA l6l
of Vishnu in this solitary temple through which howls
the great wiryi from the plains ! Still more moving on
this day of days when the Hero of the Mahabharata is
revered in millions of Hindu homes. ^^
I move back a little and sit down on the carved base
of a pillar so as to be better able to contemplate the statue.
A whirring of wings sweeps over my head; it is a bat which
I* have disturbed. In the dim light, the figure and its
gestures stand out still more strikingly. From it radiates
an atrtiosphere of limpid peace. It seems, even, as though
I am gfcing to hear in a rapture, like the Gopis, the shep-
herds of old, in the lucent forest glens, the sweet melody
of the divine flute, preluding the Rasa dance....
A passage from the Vishnu Purana comes into my
mind. I transcribe it here:
"J&ishya, observing that the ^heavens were illumined
the autumn moon and that the air was fragrant with tt
scent of the wild lily, in whose chalice the bees were hum-
ming, desired to join in the Gopis' games. . . Thus it was
'that, surrounded by them, Krishna thought that a beauti-
ful autumn night illumined by the moon was favourable to the
Rasa dance. A great number of Gopis imitated the ac-
tions of Krishna and they roamed about reproducing what
he had done. 'I am Krishna 9 said one, 'took at the ele-
gance of my movements.' 'I am Krishna? said another^
listen to my song.' ' Wait miserable Kaliga,' said a third,
clapping her hands as if in defiance, 'because I am Krishna. 9
At last the circle was formed. He took them all
by the hand, one after the other, and led them to their
pJaces Tb$n the dance commenced, accompanied by
the music of their bracelets clinking against one another
and songs celebrating the ^delights of autumn. Krishna
sang the autumn moon, the source of sweet radiance, but
the nymphs could only repeat the praises of Krishna. . . .
They followed him in all his movements, fashioning their
own on his. Every instant spent far from him appeared
to them a myriad of years. In spite\ of the commands of
ii
l6l THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
their husbands, their brothers, their fathers, each night they
went to play with him. Thus it is that thf Being without
limits, He whose goodness excludes all human imperfections,
takes the form of a young man among the wives of the sbep-
^ f herds of Varaja, scattering among the shepherds and their
wives his essence which is disseminated like the wind, for in
the same way as the elements of ether, fire, earth, Water, and
air, are contained in all creatures, so Krishna is present everj-
where and in all things."
A
What errors, what foolish comprehensions have been
amassed around this dance called Rasa and the garnet be-
tween Krishna and the shepherdesses ! When it would
have been so simple to see that in the Itgend Klishna is
represented astronomically and that he symbolises the
Sun, around which gravitate the planets and the signs
of the Zodiac under the form of the Gopis. It.'.s the same
signification in the case of the dance of the Amasones
around the priapic image, as well as the dance of the daugh-
ters of Silo (Judges xxi), and also that of King David be-
fore the Ark of the Covenant. It is the zodiacal "pro-
gression of man in the manifested universe.
Putting aside discussions, useless for the most part,
as to whether Krishna is a myth or an historical figure,
I want to think only of what he represents, remembering
that myths are often truer than history.
Krishna I Name so often repeated by millions of
beings, what does it not represent ? He is the man who
was born about 5000 years ago, who lived as a god among
men, his brothers, and gave them the teachings of im-
mortal wisdom, the light which could 4 guide them, as well
as the generations ot the future, through thedark Kali-
Yuga, the Black Age, full of horrors, which commenced
for the world at the very moment of Krishna's death.
Krishna has many aspects. He is the man become,
by his own efforts, more than a man. He is the man who
is, at the same time, the divinity, the power of life, the -
symbol of all the Nagas, past, present, and future, the
THE FLUTE OF SHRI KRISHNA 163
Sages of all times. So he is truly, says Hindu philosophy,
the Instructdr of all men. He commenced to give his
teaching, the teaching of all ages, on the Kurukshetra, the
historical battlefield, and symbolical battlefield of #r
the field of duty.
Before this image, I find myself murmuring some
verses from the Bhagavad-Gita, the book which is, as said
Emile Burnouf, "probably the most beautiful book which
has qver come from the hand of man." Other thinkers
have ^Jso said that it is "the book of humanity."
It is true. Because, the problems raised in the Gita
are the problems of every age. If Krishna, in his dis-
courses,, addresses his disciple Arjuna, it is because Arjuna
represents humanity. We are all like Arjuna. We all
have our mind troubled by our egoism. In our bitter
enjoyment^ of life, we lose sigljt of the path of duty
towards ourselves, towards our brother men, towards
our nation, and our race. Our cowardice, our great
fear of responsibility, our pride, our hypocrisy, our hate,
blind us. Happy are we if there remains within us, no
matter how few, some noble aspirations, because then we
can say, as did Arjuna, to Krishna: "I ask thee, what is
it better for me to do? Tell me that distinctly. I see no-
thing that could assuage the grief which drieth up my
f^cultigj, even though I were to obtain a kingdom with-
out a rival uon earth, or dominion over the hosts of
heaven." (Gita II)
From the divine lips of the Lord fell one by one the
answers to the questions of Arjuna, the questions of
humanity. Each answer enables us to consider life in its
true light, ^tripped* of the veil of our illusions. This is
the reason why it can be said, without any exaggeration,
that the Bhagavad-Gita, signifying the "Song of the Lord,"
is a declaration of the Rights ot regenerated Man. The
Gita is the drama of life. It gives us the solution to the
problems which are preoccupying us.
The Bhagavad-Gita is par excellence the Book of
Democracy; that is what gives it its peculiar jradiance. It
164 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
is not necessary to be a great scholar on the subject to
perceive this. It unites all men in the same Prihciple which
resides in all hearts/' If Krishna makes no distinction
bStfreen races, castes, sects, he also shows us how men,
nations, can sink in the typhoon of unchained passions.
"Men of an infernal nature do not know emanation and re-
turn; purity is not found in them, nor order, nor truth".
J
"They say that there exists in the 'world neither truth, nor
order \ nor providence; that the world is composed of phe-
nomena struggling one against the other and is nothing but
a game of chance. They deliver themselves up to violent
reactions and are the enemies of mankind"
To what must we aspire ? Such is the supreme
question. The Gita answers that man must cbnquer li-
berty by the acquisition of virtues the most divine.
"Courage, purification of the soul ---- knowle&ge.^ . . .
temperance, meditation, integrity,
"Non-violence, truth, sweetness, compassion for all living
beings, peace of heart, modesty,
"Force, patience, purity. . . . such are, Bharata, the virtues
of him who is born to a divine heritage" (XVT) '"
The message of the Gita is a universal call to Democ-
racy, liberty for the peoples, liberty for each individual.
The great affirmation of the Bhagavad-*Gita is that every
individual, whatever he may be, rich or poor, can an&must
raise himself on life's path and that he has a tight to his
emancipation, social, intellectual, and spiritual.
"Even if thou wert the greatest of all sinners, thou shalt
be able to cross over all sins in the bark of spiritual
knowledge." (IV)
Such is the solemn declaration of the essential prin-
ciples of democracy. Not a single being is excluded from
THE FLUTE OF SHRT KRISHNA 165
the conquest of liberty. The philosophy of the Gita
places this principle in the light: that nobility of heart is
not the heritage of a caste, of a favoured self-styled
title, but the heritage of all men, all women, withou^j^'
tinction of race, creed, colour, or of social condition.
Birth, family, religion, race, do not determine an indivi-
. dual's rung on the ladder of life; his own qualities, alone,
denote his degree of evolution. Every human being has
a right to happiness; the path of happiness is for all. Its
end is peace.
t Ifc the mtlie of the world, millions of beings are pre-
cipitating themselves, as much in the hope of appeasing
their physical lounger as their soul hunger, towards issues
which 'are but cut-throat, competition, pitfalls, snares.
Whereas, in reality, all in the great combat are aspiring
but ta liberty and peace. We juggle with these words,
we play ^ith them, and so thejf remain forever cold, far-
off stars, inaccessible. In the words of the great Hindu
philosopher, Vivekananda, in the last century: "It is better
to 4ie* on the battlefield than to live a life of defeat I
The entire universe labours. Why ? For liberty. From
the tiniest atom to the highest beings, all work for the
same end: liberty of body, liberty of mind. All things
strive to escape enslavement.... Work is inevitable,
but we must work for the highest goal."
Work, action, in the Bhagavad-Gita, is that which
ought to be undertaken by every being. At its base is
our spiritual regeneration, as well as that of the whole of
humanity. This has been pointed out by all the Nagas.
It is^contained in the Sermon of the Mount, in the message
of the Brjddha, in all the Scriptures. Without this re-
generation, what is the value of life ?
When one considers the world, immediately there
come to mind the words of Krishna:
"As the flame is surrounded with smoke, so is the world
surrounded with passion" (IZT)
But in the soul which is wearied with seeking itself
X66 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
springs up the ardent desire to chase away the thick clouds
of smoke in order to discover the flame of tke world, the
light which warms and enlightens hearts, the radiance of
"The purified man sees the soul residing in all living beings,
and ail beings in the sou/, when his own soul sees the iden-
tity of all the parish (VT)
What a long way has yet to be travelled towards
the realisation of this universal solidarity ! But, for^every
nation, their safeguard is and will be, more and'mQre,
the recognition of this universal, intangible, link which
unites all beings. The Git a demands of ^ people, not to
renounce itself as a collectivity, but to be what it is, its own
peculiar genius, its beneficent, genial light; in a word,
to manifest its divine radiance. To manifest this* divine
light is the work of nations, as well as of individuals.
It is to become a cristal, pure note in the universal gamme
of the world. That is the goal of life, according ^to the
Gita. All the rest is but shadows and nightmares. ,
Life is a drama only when one considers it from the
brutal side of matter. It becomes a most beautiful poem
of love and liberty when man is pacified. He then soars
aloft to the summits of Joy. He incarnates the free Laugh
of life. He has become compassion, the law of laws,
compassion for every living being. ' J
"As he has mastered his mind by effort, the man puri-
fied of his stains perfects himself through numerous births,
and enters at last into the supreme way. ... He attains
the eternal, imperishable dwelling." t (I/I) % '
Before reaching these summits, man, the pilgrim,
must strenuously climb the 'narrow path leading up to
them. Meanwhile, when the heart is too heavy, when
sorrow is too great, when doubt falls like a leaden cloak
over daily life, there comes the sweet and mysterious
music of Shri Krishna's flute. Like the harmony of the
Gandharvas, the celestial musicians of Indra's court, it
THE FLUTE OF SHRI KRISHNA 167
melts the clouds amassed during the black hours, it brings
a divine message of confidence and hope. It is as a shield
extended with love over the exhausted pilgrim's head..
In the temple of Somanathpur, the stone figure
looms out from the shadows. A ray of light rests on the
face of Krishna. Above the wind of the plains swirling
under the vaults, it seems to me that the flute of Shri
Krishna sings melodies on this day of fte, the glory of
life, the dawn of a new world, in the eternal verses:
"Know, son of Pritha, that I am the pure fragrance of the
earth; sound gn the air; in the fire, its splendour; life in all
beings; continence in ascetics.
"I am the virtue of the strong, exempt from passion and
desire. .
"I am the sacrifice, adoration. I am the offering to the dead.
"I<*am the way, the support, the lord, the witness, the
"resting-place, the refuge, the friend' 9 (IX)
Oh ! Govinda. The Friend !
May we find, we also, the resting-place, the refuge,
the friend who guides and inspires our life !
CHAPTER XVIII
THE REGARD OF A SAGE
A BURNING noon. Starting very early this morning,
we have switchbacked for hours and houri over
immense dried, scorched plains. |f f
Now we enter a region somewhat less arid. From
our oven-like car, we can see palm groves scattered here
and there and pretty, tranquil ponds covered with flower-
ing lotus.
We leave the mainjroute and branch off to the left,
along a road furrowed with ruts. Some miles in advance
of us, we see two solitary rocks towering up from the
plain. On the crown of the right-hand one rises ? gigan-
tic statue, dominating the whole of the surrounding region,
On the other rock is another sanctuary. Between these
two masses of rock, there nestles a cluster of houses. It
is Shravanabelgola, to which we are going to visit its
Jain temple.
The road, bordered with aloes and coco palm^gradju-
ally becomes more smiling. Some flowing streams, and ,
immediately luxuriant green foliage appears. Then come
the first humble dwellings of the village, little low ochred
huts.
In the torrid atmosphere, we go to inspect the* right-
hand rock, up which we shall have to climU An enor-
mous rock or basalt, about 700 feet in height, on whose
summit stands the Jain temple and its giant statue. At
the foot of the rock is the sacred tank with stone steps
destending into the water. The head of the statue can
be seen from the road.
Here, we are in a great centre of pilgrimage for the
Jains of Incjta. But today, the streets are silentious. It
The Monolithic Gomateshvara at Shravanabelgola
THE REGARD OF A SAGE 169
is the calm life, too calm perhaps or too dead, of little
Indian towrfs. The few passers-by look at us in surprise.
Visitors are not numerous at this season of the year.
We reach the foot of the great rock on the right and
are immediately assailed by some young people, coming
from I do not know where, who are anxious to sell us
photographs of the temple and its statue. We look with
an apprehensive eye at the mass of towering rock and
finajly, without courage under this sun of fire, we refuse
for tjje time being to climb, barefooted, the five hundred
st*ps leading up to the temple. We prefer to wait until
later on in the afternoon.
After this fceroic resolution, we regain our car, parked
in the shade of a clump of trees, and swallow rather half-
heartedly some of our picnic provisions. In this furnace,
one's ^ppjstite marches rallentando. Moreover, in the air,
vibrating under the rays of an almost vertical sun, the
flight of the crows and vultures circling around the rocks
seems* even more ponderous than usual.
Overcoming our drowsiness, we make a tour of
Shravanabelgola. It is two o'clock in the afternoon.
Deep silence. Suddenly, a strange sound rings out:
some blows struck at regular intervals on sonorous metal.
The noise stops and then recommences. We cast an in-
^isocp t glance through an open door into a dwelling and
discover the cause. It is the hammering of the copper-
smiths. Beautiful vases with graceful forms are made
here, as well as trays, coffee pots, temple lamps, cups, on
which are designed with precision the history of Rama
and 4iita, of Shiva, Vishnu, Nagas neighbouring with
Hamsa, tfce celestial swan laying a golden egg in virgin
space, symbol of the birth of a universe, and other images
of gods. All are thus hammered out each day on copper
vessels which are then sent to the various villages and
towns to be displayed in their ba2aars.
When the hammering, which is not too nerve-shaking,
stops, nothing is heard in the silent little streets but the
cawing of crows and the call of vultures . Then, the
170 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
strokes ring out again. Each man works in his own home.
No factories here. It is the triumph of the artisan.
We roam around for an hour and, at last, decide
to climb the five hundred steps mounting to the temple.
Up, up we go, barefooted, the whole ot the rock being
considered sacred. Oh 1 suffering to the soles of one's
feet.
In the measure that we ascend, the hammering of the
coppersmiths diminishes. It seems no more than c the
tiny tapping of birds' beaks on the tree-trunks. ,.
During this painful ascension, we pass under a stsne
lintel sculptured on one surface with the image of Laksh-
mi and on the other with two elephaitts. While we
climb and the view extends more and more over the little
town, hemmed in between its two rocks and sheltered
under green palms, I thipk how holy the ground* is on
which we are treading. It was here, at Shravanabelgola,
that three centuries before our era the great Emperor
Chandragupta Maurya, grandfather of Asoka, retired to a
solitary retreat after taking a solemn vow of absolute
renunciation of all terrestrial affairs. One can still see
the cave where he lived the remainder of his life as a con-
templative ascetic. As in so many other places in India,
the prodigious life of the Maurya dynasty stands out in
its majesty. It follows you as a leitmotiv powerful, witb
wisdom.
Here we are, at last, on the terraces on which the
sanctuaries of the Jain temple are built. The view
over the plains is marvellous, with great rugged hills
rearing up on the horizon. A young monk, with % head
shaved and clothed in a white robe thrown ever one
shoulder in ancient fashion,^ comes to meet us. He is
congenial and purity shines in his eyes. He is going to
guide us in our visit to the temple which is shelved on
terraces of the rock.
The first sanctuary is elegantly colonnaded. On
a rock in front of it rises a little pavilion in the form of a
tower of whiph the construction is very curious, the cen-
t
THE REGARD OF A SAGE IJl
tral pillar being suspended in such a way that one can pass
a handkerchief under its mass.
Mounting up twenty-five more steps, we come to the
principal sanctuary of' the temple. At the entrance,
above the porch, are two sculptured elephants which are
brandishing their trunks over a saint sitting cross-legged
like a Buddha. The ensemble of the temple is of medium
proportions, not the dimensions of the great Jain temple
of Mount Abu. What silence reigns under the arcades !
And,* Jhappily, a little coolness too ! Some coco palms
whjph'liave grown up in the exterior court give this sanc-
tuary a smiling aspect that harmonises well with Jainism,
a religipn mac^ up of sweetness and charity.
Our young monk, calm and rather silent, leads us into
the interior court. And there, all at once, without tran-
sition, comes the impressive vision of the gigantic statue
of Gomateshwara, the Jain saint. Gomateshwara, son
of Vrishabha, is one of the twenty-four holy personages,
the Tmhankaras, who raised themselves to the summits
of wisdom; the last one being Mahavira, a contemporary
of Gautama the Buddha.
Larger than a statue of Ramses, this one of Goma-
teshwara rises to more than 65 feet in height. It is carved
out of a single block of stone and, under the hand of an
unknown artist of the tenth century, its rough surface
has become remarkable work. Gomateshwara stands
absolutely naked, his arms hanging beside his body.
Climbing plants are coiling round his thighs and arms.
The face is the calm face of a sage. The upper part of
the body, from the waist to the top of the head, is under
the open s^y and rises above the roofs of the temple. We
mount by a staircase on to the terraces in order to make
a tour of the colossal statue ahd, at the same time, obtain
.the view extending over the immense switchbacking
?lains. During great pilgrimages, when thousands of
ains flock here in crowds from the South, the statue is
anointed with oil perfumed with jasmine and incense, and
the arcades are illumined with copper Interns.
IJZ THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
In this temple, everything radiates candour. It is
seen in the elegant simplicity of the architecture, in the
pefection of details of the ornamentation; it also hovers
indefinably over the body of Gomateshwara, as over the
face of the young monk who guides us and who speaks
with such fervour of his religion.
Although Jainism is more ancient than Buddhism,
there is a certain similarity between these two religions
derived from Hinduism. The Jains deny the existence of a
personal god but believe in the periodicity of the Universe
and in the evolution of the soul through the law of sufces-
sive incarnations. They say that the Buddha was the disci-
ple of one of their holy Tirthankaras. *his is the reason
why there is nothing astonishing in finding statues of
Buddha in their temples.
Our fervent young Jain narrates to us the life of
Mahavira, who was the teacher of Jainism. He was born at
Kundagrama in the Deccan in the sixth century before our
era. In conformity with a vow formulated by Mahavira
in one of his last incarnations on earth, he remained,,with
his parents until the end of their lives. Meditative, silen-
tious, he then asked his brother's permission to become an
ascetic, which was granted to him. For a number of years,
he meditated and studied and became in his turn a Jina, a
vanquisher of the world. Until his death at the age of 72
years, he preached his doctrine which resumes itself in this:
the man who does no wrong to any other being, or to any
living thing, attains the supreme peace of Nirvana, the peace
between man and his brothers, the peace betweeji man and
animals, the perfect fraternity of all that lives. ^
And the young monk recites a Jaimst scrip^ire (Uttara-
dhyayana):
"Living beings of every kind must not be beaten, nor treated
with violence, nor maltreated, nor tortured, nor killed. And
I tellthee, the Arhats (Sages) of the past, present, and future,
all say this, declaring the same thing, expressing themselves
thus: ' Living beings of all kinds must not be killed, nor
THE REGARD OF A SAGE 173
tortured^ nor hunted. This constant, eternal, permanent,
and true Kw has ever been taught by the Wise Men who under-
stand all things. 999 (
In the silence of the cool galleries surrounding the
Gomateshwara, to which we have descended, we think of
these madmen, these barbarians of Europe, who kill, pil-
lage, and, like wild beasts, carry away millions of individu-
als, >yho assassinate entire nations under the pretext that
the individuals are Jews and that they, the masters, have
need o*f "vital space I" We think also of all those
crimes of history, crimes so often repeated, wars, inquisi-
tions, slavery; othe daily slaughter of millions of animals
for the nourishment of brother-man; and we ask ourselves
with anguish, as every Jain, every real Hindu or Buddhist
would do: t what will be the destiny of the men and the
nations capable of all these crimes ? How far we are from
this Jain doctrine of Ahimsa, of real non-violence, which
in realty is love and wisdom 1
One may laugh, perhaps, at these Jains who breathe
through a veil of muslin so that nothing living may be
absorbed by their lungs; one may smile, also, to see them
avoid killing a fly, drinking only filtered water, eating only
vegetable food for nourishment, abstaining completely from
Tujne %n$l alcohol. Yes, one may smile at certain naiveties,
but at the base of their doctrine there are teachings that we
might do well to hold and apply in our own lives. They
would develop in us a great respect for Nature; they would
liberate us from sad hate; there would spring up in us more
compassion for every living creature.
It is ^th regrdt that we leave the young monk. After
saluting us in the Hindu manner joining his hands and
passing them from his heart to his forehead he disappears
into the network of galleries, serene, self-controlled, silen-
tious, and reserved.
... .In the little town nestling at the foot of the rock,
the coppersmiths' hammers are now silent. ^The hush of
174 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
the swiftly-falling twilight extends over everything. No-
thing disturbs the cool evening breeze but the flight, less
ponderous now, of the crows and vultures and the gentle
twittering of the birds who are recounting endless stories
to each other in the coco palms of the temple.
A shadow grows in the sunset; it is that of the giant
statue of Gomateshwara the Sage. He has been there
for centuries. He gazes out over the plains and perhaps ....
. . men ! . . . .
CHAPTER XIX
' HAMPI THE "CITY OF VICTORY"
AN active government, a prosperous city. Such is
Vijayanagar, the "City of Victory," the cradle of the
Jimpire of that name, and also the ancient capital of
the^feudal princes of the Hoysala dynasty. It was after-
wards named HAMPL
Evtry morning, in the dazzling sun, the people begin
their work. The city hums with activity. The bazaar is
rich and abundant; on each side of its broad main street,
merchants -are seated on plaited nfets in their shops display-
ing their wares before the crowds of buyers. Some are
spreading out rich silks sheened with blue, gold, or red, or
stuffs ifi which are mingled orange and the tender green of
rice l&elds; others are extolling the elegance of their copper
vases, the flavour of luscious fruits, the fine chiselling on
their silver girdles, the exquisite fragrance of their perfumes.
All eyes are attracted to the rare jewels, emeralds, sapphires
from Ceylon, pins for saris, bracelets, rings. There are also
garlands of jasmine and roses for the temples. In the air
floats an odour of spices. Little chiselled bells ring in sil-
ver-like or deep tones. Then, there is the money-tenders'
corner, alas ! where the lenders gravely count out their piles
of moijey. In another corner are exhibited pious images
in wood representing Rama, Sita, Hanuman, the mon-
key-god, Rtishna, Radha his well-beloved, Vishnu, Shiva,
Lakshmi, Saraswati, Ganesht, the elephant-headed god.
All the gods and goddesses are there, as well as the great
Educators, They live among the people, they came from
the people, they have acted for them, they have given them
rules for obtaining happiness, they have shown the people
'Nature's immutable laws, the means of raising themselves
176 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
above samsara, the ocean of births and re-births, so as to
enter at last into the realm of Sat, eternal 3Truth. Yes,
they are there, the gods and the Educators, present in the
memory of all these people.
It is a splendid sight to see such a crowd on this radiant
morning. The birds are carolling, parrots screeching,
crows cawing, with the joy of living. The big, ardent
black eyes of the women, clad in their multi-coloured saris,
look tenderly at their laughing children; the men, their
bodies like copper, have a brave, confident air; and the
sacred cows roam peacefully about, swinging theiigteat
horned heads, stealing here a fruit, there a stick of sugar-
cane, completely deaf, or indifferent, to the shouts of the
tonga drivers. It is the crowd of India, the one of all time.
It is good to live at Vijayanagar. Intelligent princes,
uniting comfort and beauty, have made the town a remark-
able city. We go toward^ the great artificial lake, sheltered
between two hills, whose waters irrigate the rice fields in
the surrounding plains, as well as the vast parks and flower
gardens.
How gay the crowd is ! Some elephants are advancing
majestically, flapping their great ears; they are the sacred
elephants of the temples, they have just come from their
morning bath and feel satisfied and refreshed. We have
been told that there is going to be a great fete this afternoon,
the fate of the Serpents. So much the better ! We shdl
thus be able to witness the magnificence of a great Hindu
festival in honour of a famous cult whose origin is lost in
the night of time. But before it begins, we have time to
visit the town. It is, doubtless, the prospect of tljis fte
which is enchanting everybody.
Coming back to the bazaar street, we perceive at one
extremity the Nandi Bu// 9 the sacred bull, with its imposing
stature. On our way to visit the great temple, we pass
under the Scales of the Kin^, a stone portico under which
is suspended an enormous pair of scales . The weight of the
King, seated on one side of the scales, is measured in gold
and precious stones placed on the other side. This measure
HAMPI 177
of wealth is afterwards distributed among the poor.
Following a narrow shady path, we come to the
city's most beautiful temple, the temple of Vitthala, dedi-
cated to Vishnu. This immense edifice is raised on a stone
terrace richly sculptured with royal horses, its three en-
trances opening on the East, North, and South, are throng-
ed with the incessant coming and going of the faithful
accomplishing their devotional gestures ofoffering garlands
to the divinity. The steps leading to the vast hypostyle
hall Ire balustraded with enormous stone elephants. On
eacjj JSillar, hewn out of a single block of granite, are
carved gods and goddesses, and their massiveness is lighten-
ed by delicate colonnades. From the richly sculptured
ceiling,* hundreds of bats are suspended, indifferent for
the most part, to the movements of the faithful going into
the sanctuary.
In th great court is the mkndapam or covered hall,
in the same style as the temple. It contains a canopy in the
centre j:o shelter the god and goddess during the annual
cerejnony of their marriage, which is celebrated with lavish
pomp.
Before the temple stands the chariot for carrying the
divinities during great fetes. Generally, these chariots are
of sculptured wood but this one has a speciality: it is of
richly carved stone. The entry to it is guarded by two
elephants, nevertheless the whole block gives an impression
of extraordinary lightness. *
We leave the temple with some regret in order to visit
the centre of the town. We take a path following the
windings of a wide river, which is bordered with banyan
and mango trees and is delightfully cool and shady. At
a turning of the path, after again crossing the bazaar street,
we catch sight of the characteristic silhouettes of some
Jain temples situated on the slope of a hill. Then we come
to the temples of Krishna and Rama. All the principal
personages of the }Lamayana and the Mahabharata are united
at Vijayanagar. On the North-East of the temple there is
a pillar bearing a bas-relief representing Vishnu under the
IZ
178 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
form of Avatar-Kalki* the Messenger of Light, mounted
on his white horse, as he will appear to humanity at the end
of the Kali-Yuga, the Black Age, bringing concord among
men.
We come now to a more silent quarter. What are
those towers before us and that little palace over there in the
Indo-Moresque style ? We ask our guide. It is the* Zenana,
the Lotus-Mahal, the palace of the beautiful princesses.
What grace in this princely dwelling supported by
lofty pillars ! On the only floor, open little windows,
each with a wooden shutter. Not far from the tenipl^ of
love is the princesses' swimming pool. The surrounding
towers are reserved for these beautiful visitors who can thus
see over the town without being seen by the crowd.
A far-off trumpeting brings us back to other realities.
Everything is so surprising in this town ! A g r oup is
forming before a long, tail building surmounted with stone
cupolas. These are the famous stables of the sacred ele-
phants, or rather the tall stalls, numbering eleven. Their
keepers are very busy because the animals must be prepared
for today's fte. Heavy gold draperies, palanquins with
light little colonnades, are placed on the backs of the ele-
phants who balance them somewhat impatiently.
Time is flying. There is so much to see I We return
towards the centre of the town where the crowd is becom-
ing more and more dense, and the temperatufe, at the "same
time, growing hotter. We look rapidly at the Queen's
bathing pool, built in the same style as the Lotus-Mahal.
From there we come out on to a vast square containing the
Terrace of the Throne, a massive construction in granite
on the base of which are sculptured processions of warriors,
elephants, horses, camels, and Apsaras, dancers of Indra's
court, whose movements represent the gestures of the gods.
On this terrace is a throne of solid gold, the seat of the King
when he is viewing the prestigious fetes of the court.
Suddenly, from the beginning of a street, music bursts
forth. It comes from a long procession which is advancing
preceded by ^musicians either playing on instruments re-
HAMPI 179
sembling long clarionets, or beating on tom-toms or silver
cymbals. Banners embroidered with the swastica are
suspended like canopies along the streets. The fgte of
the Serpents has begun.
The thresholds of the Hindu houses are decorated with
the emblem of the day. Nagas, serpents, are represented
everywhere. Brahmans carry in their arms statuettes in
gold or silver on which the serpent-god is carved in relief.
Enterprising beggars are carrying large baskets of live
serp'ents from house to house, so that devotees may feed
th<yn v on the threshold of their homes and thus bring
happiness and prosperity to their families.
The animation is intense. Many villagers have come
from the environs of the town, because, according to cus-
tom, one must not dig the ground on this sacred day for
fear of* killing a serpent by accident. Moreover, no fruit,
no vegetable is gathered or dug up, nor is any tree cut down,
the naga, the serpent, being closely linked to the spirits of
the ti^es and the earth.
The music continues untiringly and the procession,
swelling more and more in proportions, winds slowly on-
ward towards a hallowed spot outside the town. All the
streets are decorated with flags. Here come the elephants,
their keepers gravely perched on their necks, from where
they direct their steeds with a click of their tongue. In
the palanquihs, with curtains drawn, are one guesses
the princesses robed in beautiful saris of silk and gold and
fragrant with the most rare perfumes.
The crowd moves on without haste, opening in order
to let* the tongas pass, in which are squeezed whole families
or fat Bowman bourgeois unable to walk for long and for
whom the length of the route would be exhausting. Near
us are walking some beautiful young girls, their lovely
round amber arms encircled with gold bracelets. One of
them is wearing a green sari bordered with silver thread,
another is clothed in night-blue, another in yellow spotted
with blue, still another in red spangled with gold. The
play of the sun's brilliant rays on these different colours,
180 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
each the chosen fancy for the day, and on the g;aily decorated
streets, resembles the dazzling palette of a wicard artist.
Following the crowd, from which exhales the pervasive
odour of jasmine, one sees the image of nagas everywhere.
They rear upward on all the temples or shelter with their
heads the figures of gods. In Vedic times, at the dawn of
our Aryan race, the serpent was considered sacred, especial-
ly the cobra. It was king of the soil, the guardian of
treasures, the one who kept vigil over the magic stones.
A man nearby, following the procession, is charting
a mantram from the Yajur-Veda: ' .
"Homage to the serpents I
Move they on the earth, r
Be they in the air or in the sky.
Homage be rendered to these serpents I
h
"Be they arrows of wizards,
Or of spirits of the trees,
Or repose they in holes, *
Homage be rendered to these serpents I '
"Be they in the brilliance of the sun,
Be they in the rays of the sun,
Have they made their dwelling in the waters,
Homage be rendered to these serpents I"
And the invocation continues in rhythm with the man's
pace. Symbols ! Symbols I reminding us of the pre-
sence of the great Saviours of the race. Where their pre-
sence shines in the hearts of husband, wife, children* they
are the protectors of that home; they are the guardians of
the magic stones of knowledge; they ever keep vigil, in
their great renouncement, over the progress of humanity.
Symbols empty of sense for some, perhaps. What
does that matter if, in the slow circling of the centuries,
there are some beings who discover the Sages I "A
Mahatma is difficult to find," said Krishna to Arjuna.
Every great scjul is found with difficulty. Here, in India,
HAMPI l8l
as elsewhere, charlatans are numerous. Woe to those who
go to these showmen of apparitions 1 Woe to those who
assume a title which does not belong to them by right, by
the nobility of their character 1
^isdom is an alluring sea whose surf and reefs are
dangerous. The sirens of islands beneath the sea often
* light, say the fables, beguiling fires in order to attract into
their caverns travellers such as we all are. Happy are those
who fix their eyes on the solitary beacon kindled by the
true Sages, whose eternal flame will never be extinguished.
Syfhbols of divine truth have not been invented for the
amusement of the sceptic or the ignorant; they are the
Alpha and Omtga of profound and philosophic thought.
Those who find the real Sages, and not the showmen of
acrobatic feats, those who try to become at least a little
lamp in *he sanctuary of the One Truth of the ages, be-
come in their humble sphere servitors of the race; they lift
up for themselves and for others a corner of the heavy
veil of matter which hides that which is from all eternity;
the*y learn, in their turn, to give self-confidence to the
disinherited of life. Moreover, they have realised that they
can, they also, raise themselves to the path trodden by the
Predecessors, the Elder Brothers of men.
^)n the faces of all these men and women of India
faking* part ih this fete, on the serious faces of the children
who open their big, velvety eyes wide in order to see the
procession better, shines an expectation, a hope and I
think that in all the far-off crowds of the West there is also
this expectation, this hope the expectation and hope to
see appealing other beings filled with love and knowledge,
pure enough, courageous enough to be wise leaders of the
peoples and to guide them tcfwards a destiny of true liberty,
a destiny free of fear, horrors, massacres, famines; a destiny
where love will be joyous and sane in the certitude that these
new men, profiting by old errors, will make it possible for
the future generations to advance along the great route of
humanity in a procession of joy and light v . .
l8o THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
each the chosen fancy for the day, and on the gaily decorated
streets, resembles the dazzling palette of a wicard artist.
Following the crowd, from which exhales the pervasive
odour of jasmine, one sees the image of nagas everywhere.
They rear upward on all the temples or shelter with their
heads the figures of gods. In Vedic times, at the dawn of
our Aryan race, the serpent was considered sacred, especial-
ly the cobra. It was king of the soil, the guardian of
treasures, the one who kept vigil over the magic stones.
A man nearby, following the procession, is chariting
a mantram from the Yajur-Veda: ' -
"Homage to the serpents !
Move they on the earth,
Be they in the air or in the sky,
Homage be rendered to these serpents I
*i t
"Be they arrows of wizards,
Or of spirits of the trees,
Or repose they in holes,
Homage be rendered to these serpents !
"Be they in the brilliance of the sun,
Be they in the rays of the sun,
Have they made their dwelling in the waters,
Homage be rendered to these serpents I"
And the invocation continues in rhythm with the man's
pace. Symbols ! Symbols ! reminding us of the pre-
sence of the great Saviours of the race. Where their pre-
sence shines in the hearts of husband, wife, children^ they
are the protectors of that home; they are the guardians of
the magic stones of knowledge; they ever keep vigil, in
their great renouncement, over the progress of humanity.
Symbols empty of sense for some, perhaps. What
does that matter if, in the slow circling of the centuries,
there are some beings who discover the Sages I "A
Mahatma is difficult to find," said Krishna to Arjuna.
Every great scjul is found with difficulty. Here, in India,
HAMPI l8l
as elsewhere, charlatans are numerous. Woe to those who
go to these* showmen of apparitions I Woe to those who
assume a title which does not belong to them by right, by
the nobility of their character 1
\SS7isdom is an alluring sea whose surf and reefs are
dangerous. The sirens of islands beneath the sea often
light, say the fables, beguiling fires in order to attract into
their caverns travellers such as we all are. Happy are those
who fix their eyes on the solitary beacon kindled by the
true Sages, whose eternal flame will never be extinguished.
Syfhbols of divine truth have not been invented for the
amusement of the sceptic or the ignorant; they are the
Alpha *and Omfega of profound and philosophic thought.
Those who find the real Sages, and not the showmen of
acrobatic feats, those who try to become at least a little
lamp in the sanctuary of the One Truth of the ages, be-
come in their humble sphere servitors of the race; they lift
up for themselves and for others a corner of the heavy
veil of matter which hides that which is from all eternity;
the'V learn, in their turn, to give self-confidence to the
disinherited of life. Moreover, they have realised that they
can, they also, raise themselves to the path trodden by the
Predecessors, the Elder Brothers of men.
Jp/i the faces of all these men and women of India
taking* part in this fete, on the serious faces of the children
who open their big, velvety eyes wide in order to see the
procession better, shines an expectation, a hope and I
think that in all the far-off crowds of the West there is also
this expectation, this hope the expectation and hope to
see appealing other beings filled with love and knowledge,
pure enough, courageous enough to be wise leaders of the
peoples and to guide them tcfwards a destiny of true liberty,
a destiny free of fear, horrors, massacres, famines; a destiny
where love will be joyous and sane in the certitude that these
new men, profiting by old errors, will make it possible for
the future generations to advance along the oreat route of
humanity in a procession of joy and light.
1 82 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
While I dream, we arrive at a quiet place outside the
town. In a cool, green glen shaded with palms *&nd mangoe
trees, the procession stops. The music is silent. From
the crowd emerges a group of young girls and women who
proceed to the centre of a circular space where stones carved
with figures of serpents are standing. In the silence, the
clinking of their anklets and bracelets sounds like the ring-
ing of aerial bells. The adoration of the serpent begins.
While Brahmans recite mantrams^ powerful invocations to
the Nagas, the women spill milk over the stone serpents.
This ceremony is of great beauty. The gesture df fhe
pouring out of the milk is one of incomparable grace. A
sacred gesture with sacred thought. The spirals of incense
ascending into the air are as many vows forming in all
hearts. Near the stone serpents are two trees which have
married: a fig tree and a margosa. *
It is over. The mantrams have ceased. The music
starts again and the crowd files past the serpents. The fete
is still in the air, it is in the rays of the setting sjm, it
is in the flag-bedecked streets of Vijayanagar, it is in ,*he
stones of the temples where the gods are watching. It is,
above all, in the souls of these people.
I climb the slope of a wooded hill in order to enjoy
the view. I recognise, on my left, the terrace of the
Throne, the bathing pool of the Queen; on my right, the
Lotus Mahal wi th its graceful form, the elephants' stalls^ the
towers of the Zenana; and before me, in the distance, the
street of the bazaar, the temple of Vishnu, the temples of
Rama, Krishna ....
But. . . .1 have dreamed ! ... .1 must be tlje uncon-
scious prey of a magician, a dugpa. Sorcerers are so power-
ful here ! 1 pass my hand Across my eyes. What do I
see ?. . . .Ruins ruins, all around me is a heap of ruins.
It is not possible. I am mad, or else it is the heat of the
sun, the fatigue of the long day !. . . .But no, I am wide
awake. . . , Ruins, ruins ! I can see the temples quite well
with my field glasses standing there, still beautiful in their
HAMPI 183
majesty. I can even distinguish their sculptures. But
alJ are in ruins ! Over there is the bazaar street but it con-
tains nothing but carcasses of stone, stained red by the glow
of the sunset. Everywhere is desolation There is no
fdte, no laughter, no music, nor songs. The elephants
trumpet nofnore. There are no flags. The crowd, men,
women wearing gay saris, children where are they?
'There are no dwellings, no happy homes. . . .all are evis-
cerated. But they, the beings, the sons and daughters of
merf, the devotees, the gods ? The princes, chiefs, the
king** queen, princesses ?. . . .The human river, where is
it ?
Over Vijayanagar, there planes nothing but silence
and tKe cawing of crows. Vijayanagar is dead. Ancient
Vijayanagar, the "City of Victory/' is nothing but a grave-
yard \vtfiere are buried the hopes of men, where are entomb-
ed the spiritual values of a wHble past glory. Only the
grass and the plants are alive. The fire of man has des-
troyejj all.
The 23rd January, 1565, the great battle of Talikota
began. On one side, the Hindu armies who defended the
town; on the other, the Mussulman troops. To begin
with, the warriors of India seemed to win. But suddenly
the Mussulmans, who waited for the attack, uncovered
ix "Hundred pieces of heavy artillery which were massed
on three lines and hurled forth shells and terror. At the
same time, thousands of horse-soldiers dashed forward
to encircle the valiant warriors defending the Hindu
city.. Arrows flew back and forth from one side to the
other, sowing death everywhere. Masses of enemy ele-
phants, tarbed with iron lances, crushed the wounded
Hindus and even the dead. -In the city, the King seated on
his gold throne, distributed treasures, jewels, to encourage
his men. The women moaned and wept, the children hid
themselves within the dwellings. Outside the town, the
river was transformed into a torrent of blood. The forces
of Vijayanagar defended the city superbly. For three days
1 84 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
the atrocious carnage raged. More than a hundred thou-
sand cadavres covered the ground. The Kingof the "City
of Victory** was taken prisoner. For three days, they strug-
gled step by step, inch by inch, the Hindu warriors being
gradually forced back into the streets of the tokrn under the
avalanche of the invaders. By the evening of tie thikl day,
the town was dead. The Empire of Vijayanagar had
crumbled in massacre, in pillage, in the violation orwomen
and giris, in the horror of violence, cupidity, and hate.
Since then, for four centuries, HAMPI, ancient VijUya-
nagar, has been dead, wrapped in a shroud of silencfe. fi
While visiting the ruins, my mind evoked, according
to records, the long-ago happy days, the rich and prosperous
city, the ffetes (that of the serpent is also celebrated in modern
India), the crowd, the sweetness of living, the temples, all
that constitutes a processibn of happy years. Ndw, before
us, rise the gaunt spectres of what was once beauty and
happiness. The lake is dry, the crevassed hills are^bare.
Trees grow with difficulty here and there. Only the riyer,
clear again, rolls its waters between chaotic rocks. Never-
theless, what imposing buildings can still be seen amid all
the heart-breaking ruins 1 It seems that the beauty of
Vijayanagar will not die. The roofs of some of the temples
have fallen in but the pillars bear witness to the sculptural
riches of a glorious past. Here is a portico 4 , a galuffy, d
ceiling intact; there, an admirable sculpture representing
the birth of BrahmS, some bas-reliefs, some towers ....
What rare treasures to contemplate while wandering mel-
ancholically through the temple of Vitthala, of Krishna,
Rama; when visiting the enclosure of the Zenana, the
Lotus Mahal, the elephant's stables ! But tlie ancient
dwellings, the homes which sheltered happy families, all
have disappeared in the tempest.
All that for what ? They had believed, these people
of long ago, in the Nagas, the Wise Protectors. They had
active and capable administrators. But human faults,
sooner or later, must be paid for. Their leaders had, with-
HAMPI 185
out doubt, also raised their souls towards the Sages, but
did they practise the ideal in their own lives ? Did they
bend towards the people to listen to their heart ? Let us
leave to destiny, to the law of cause and effect, Karma,
the care of answering these questions which belong to all
time.
Oh 1 the lesson of Hampi is engraved in its stones,
ft is history. Just as in Europe the millions of soldiers
lying beneath the green grass of the fields are the witnesses
to mn's folly. Nations, empires, rise up along the routes
of TJnie. They radiate their light for an instant, a century,
fifty years! Then, great tides of hate overwhelm in a few
days, a few months, these ephemeral civilisations, without
any force in the world being able to prevent their des-
truction. A Naga of last century, one of those great Beings
who liv unknown to the crowds, was right in saying:
"No human power , not even the force and power of the highest
patriotism^ has ever been able to turn the destiny of iron
from its fixed course ', nor prevent nations falling into the
Darkness of decadence \ like torches plunged into water"
Whose fault is it ? Man's. Where is the remedy ?
With men. The lighthouse of Truth eternally sweeps the
rough, surging ocean of human life. It is for men to turn
their eyes towards this beacon which points out the way to
foUo^PT * It is the Fire of the Spirit which never destroys,
which always builds within us the "City of Victory."
CHAPTER XX
HYDERABAD THE MUSSULMANA '
TORRID territory, great parched plains which are
waiting for refreshing monsoon deluges to makeuhem
green again. From time to time, an isolated tree
stands up. We roll along for miles and miles without* see-
ing a village. The route seems endless.
We started this morning from Hampi en toute for
Hyderabad, which we shall not reach until tomorrow even-
ing. Tonight we shall sleep at Kurnool.
After traversing Be^lary, its hill burned bare by the
blazing sun, we come to the country of mirages. We look
out for some, but all in vain. Mirages are like pretty wo-
men, they like to make themselves desired.
Along this monotonous route, we doze with one eye.
Hullo I A little hill surrounded with water. Water with-
out green foliage ! Strange ! I shut both eyes. My
thoughts stray towards haunting Hampi. Exclamations from
my travelling companions. "The hill, the hill I" they cry.
I look at the hill which is still there. But the water^" where
is it ? Evaporated ! So, I missed the mirage at least
a part of it. I decide not to close my eyes again. I open
them wide and watch, I force myself to look at a straight
road with bare plains on each side. I almost murmur:
"Water, water ! A mirage, a mirage 1** It is (jurious how
we love illusions.
A sheet of water right* over there on the left ! This
time, I keep the mirage in sight so as not to let it escape me,
It appeared suddenly, like all mirages. Yes, one would
certainly say that there is water over there, a little lake.
Oh I it is far away on the plain,but when we arrive on a
level with i^, . . .Where is it ? It has disappeared as sud-
HYDERABAD THE MUSSULMANA 187
denly as it came.
Mirages nire terrible. They are all the same: inter-
ferers and promisers. They interfere between you and the
truth, they promise much and only leave disappointment.
They are like the fruits of the Dead Sea, they fall into ashes
as soon 1 as they are touched.
I shut my eyes for good. I do not want to see any
more mirages. One sees too many of them, we carry them
within us, we create them eternally. Entire peoples are
exploited by political or religious mirages. The whole
worjfl \s a prey to mirages. Hampi ! Hampi I Poor Hampi 1
I shake myself and take a little book for the use of
lanoos, disciples jn certain temples of Tibet who seek
knowledge. I read:
"Alas, alas, that all men should possess Alaya, be one with
the grefit Soul, and that possessing it, Alaya should so little
avail them /
"Bihold how like the moon, re fleeted in the tranquil waves,
Alaya is reflected by the small and by the great, is mirrored
in the tiniest atoms, jet fails to reach the heart of all. Alas,
that so few men should profit by the gift, the priceless boon
of learning truth, the right perception of existing things,
the knowledge of the non-existent I
~* **??.. Learn to discern the real from the false, the ever-
fleeting from the everlasting. Learn above all to separate
Head-learning from Soul-wisdom, the "Eye" from the
"Heart" doctrine.
" .*. . . Soar beyond illusions, search the eternal and the change-
less Sat, the unique and eternal reality and truth, mis-
trusting fancy's false suggestions"
While I philosophise in my corner of the car, we
arrive at Guntakal, where the railway for Madras branches
off to the North and the South. We lunch in the buffet of
the station, drinking ginger-ale, a drink that is truly thirst-
quenching when one has crossed deserts.
1 88 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
Six o'clock in the evening. We arrive at Kurnool,
a rather important town with large, pretty, Shady squares.
At the post office, we find a packet of letters coming from
the Nilgiris.
In the dak-bungalow, after dinner, I write an article
for the Hindu of Madras. Then, exhausted, we fall asleep
in spite of a bed of boards, mosquitoes, and a traveller in
the adjoining room who snores like an airplane engine.
The next day, we make our departure by trairf . , Im-
possible to proceed by road to the frontier of Hyderabad
State. Reason ? No road. We must f ither go by rail
or make a considerable detour by road, which for lack of
time we are unable to do. There is no choice, so we have
the car put on the train ;
. . . .Mahbukna, the frontier of the Mussulman State.
Three o'clock in the afternoon. Unloading of the car,
customs. Change of scenery -red fez, faces with tjeautiful
beards. A council of war in the office of the customs
employee. A charge of three hundred rupees will be made
for allowing the car to pass the customs. We refuse to
pay it. The employee, rough and rude, refuses our refusal.
We threaten to send a telegram to the First Minister of
the Nizam of Hyderabad, whom we do not know. Another
council of war, further discussions, lasting ^over an hour.
Finally, the car is allowed to pass. We pay nothing at all.
It is the East its rind.
En route. With our tyres, we tread the soil of India's
Mussulman State. It is getting late and we want i to see
Hyderabad at sunset. We are obsessed by this jdea and are
determined to see the last rays of the setting sun shining
over the town, over the minarets. So, we ask our dear car
to make a great effort to put on speed. She is, however,
very tired after her thousands of miles, poor thing !
The country is fairly green, fields of maize and rice.
The people seem to be more robust in the Mussulman
country. Sans have disappeared, or nearly so. The
HYDERABAD THE MUSSULMANA 189
women wear a becoming little blouse of various colours,
between it and the skirt, the waist is bare. Some cavaliers
pass us on Arab horses. In the villages, we glimpse above
the tangle of trees, the minarets of humble mosques.
We spin on, on, on; the sun is already sinking behind
us. It is six o'clock. The first rays of the setting sun are
tinting the fields and villages with rose, red, and green.
At some crossroads, we have a true vision of Islam:
a Mussulman peasant turned toward Mecca reciting
versed from the Koran.
flu I What pretty Moresque bungalows built along
the side of a hill ! We are now in the suburbs of Hyderabad.
It is almost seven o'clock. Quick, hurry, a few more turns
of the wheels ! The route coils round a hill. Again, white
houses half-hidden under trees.
Hyderabad, at last 1 The vast city is enveloped in a
cloud of gold, sprinkled with mauve and orange. What a
magnificent scene ! Its minarets soar into the magic of the
sky ancj its white houses and terraces are tinted with the
ever .changing hu^s of the sunset. One minute they are
rose, then they become mauve, afterwards the whole city
is encircled by a red-orange halo.
Some minutes later, we are among the crowd on the
borders of the city: noise, music, burnous, fez, an odour
of mus^, camels with their proud heads held high....
Thousands of* lights twinkle out. Evening falls over a
city of Islam.
The next morning at our hotel, we are awakened by
murmurs in which the word Allah frequently occurs. A
Mussulman in the neighbouring room recites his morning
prayers. ^^
The view from our window extends over the
city, still more dazzlingly white in the brilliant
sun. Mosques, minarets, rise above green masses ^f trees
and the terraces of the houses make gleaming
'spots against the green foliage. On the
190 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
of hills stands out, along which run the battlemented walls
of Golconda. This legendary stronghold*, containing
fabulous treasures, was destroyed long ago by the Mogul
Emperor Aurengzeb, a descendant of Tamerlan. On the
right, some domes can be seen; they are the tombs of
Golconda's ancient sultans. *
It is strange to feel that one is in India and, at the same
time, that one is not there. The memory of Hampi haunts
me.
After a splendid breakfast a change for us from the
often frugal and hasty meals of the dak-bungalows (6 mirage
of good cafe-au-lait, boiling hot ! ) we start off for a
stroll at random through the capital othe Nizam, the
reigning prince in collaboration with the 'British delegate.
The streets and the wide white avenues swarm with
light little carriages, buffalo carts, men wearing a fez
or a turban, with the bearing of dervishes or great Arab
rulers, children who are not at all shy but decided and noisy.
Women are rather scarce in the streets and everywhere
there floats a mystery of zenanas. Moreover, many
of the shops advertise: "Articles for Zenanas. " Poor
Mussulman women, of course, walk; they are entirely
veiled in a cloak of fine white material, in which a lattice
hangs before their eyes in order to allow their brilliance
to shine through. If they belong to a rich man thgy drive
about in old kndaux with the blinds drawn down, l^'or
medium purses, the landau transforms itself into a simple
and uncomfortable tonga. Here comes a little carriage with
a roof of plaited straw bent down to the hubs of the wheels.
On the front sits the lord and master, an old Mussulman
with a white beard, his forehead furrowed wjyth worries*
He drives the pony. Behind, as in front, a drawn blind
hides from indiscreet eyes 4 his precious feminine cargo.
The master is taking his wives for a promenade. The
carriage moves along slowly and we, who are walking
on the pavement behind it, see the curtain suddenly fly up
under the skilful push of some pretty ringed fingers, fol-
lowed by delicate wrists encircled with bracelets, vanguard
HYDERABAD THE MUSSULMANA 191
of bare amber-coloured arms. A second, a flash of light-
ning, the curtain is lifted and, O sacrilege 1 four unveiled
faces, eight brilliant black eyes, send us smiles that would
turn pale the most beautiful houri of Mahomet's paradise.
The husband, the lord who, as always, is unaware of
anythir>g, jerks on the reins in thinking of the vanity of
the world. Mirage 1 Mirage !
The palace of the Nizam, surrounded by high walls,
is situated in the upper part of the town. Beyond is
Secuftderabad, the English town with villas reminding one
of t^e 5 suburbs of London. We go back to the centre of
the town.
On the pave jnents are groups of men with multicolour-
ed turbans. TBey sit there with their legs and feet bare
and make, .. .lace. They consent, laughingly, to have
their phptographs taken. From behind the moucharabies
which overhang the streets, we feel the magnetism of hid-
den eyes ....
We are now in the very noisy principal street. The
Char^Minar^ with minarets at its four corners and a monu-
mental gate in Arab style, stands in this street. The mina-
rets look over the great mosque which we are on our way
to visit. This mosque is very beautiful, with arcades,
domes, and minarets around which are flying clouds of
while f^geons.
"The whote town is full of discoveries and unusual
scenes. Here is a fountain surrounded with camels; there
a palace, wrapped in mystery, standing in the middle of
beautiful gardens; then, a park with a sheet of transparent
water covered with beautiful rose lotus; afterwards, lanes
full of the odour <*f musk
>
But, how amazing are the evenings of Hyderabad 1
Evenings with a hot, overpowering wind, impregnated
wwi perfumes of Arabia. Evenings when the minarets
are white in the moon . Evenings when one hears the music
'of Hyderabad, songs of the desert, tambourines which stir
192 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
up dancing and also. . . .mirages. tHow beautiful are the
evenings of Hyderabad the Mussulmana 1 *
The bazaar has elegant little arches of light that glow
over sabres with blue glints, Turkish slippers with pointed
toes in pagoda form, fez of all sizes, essence of rose, sweets
made of rose, amber necklaces, crescent-shaped ear-rings,
horse saddles studded with gleaming copper, harness laden
with little bells, coloured camel bags, rare, costly carpets. .
. .Mussulman bazaars are certainly remarkable.
From dim corners of the town float music and the
sound of tambourines. Hyderabad sings and ciapces
throughout its languorous nights.
Guided by the manager of our hotel, we go to one
of the houses from where this music of tKe evening floats
and where we shall be shown the wonderful charm of
Islam. .
We are shown into a room with white-washed walls
and carpets and cushions on the floor. In one corner,
Mussulman musicians are seated on mats, tuning their
instruments. The scent of roses floats in the ..air.
Through the lace-worked ogives of the room, we can see
the white minarets of a mosque standing out against a
blue night sky, an Eastern sky, cloudless, jewelled with
stars. Crickets are holding their gay little concert in the
walls. I am reminded of the beautiful eveijing? of
Mussulman Africa. "*
We sit down on some cushions. We are the only
guests. A woman comes simply into the room, holding
by the hand an adorable little girl, her daugher, whose
little nose is adorned with a gold ring. They sit down near
the musicians. The music commences. At rst, it is a
humming, like that of the cicadas in the tall grass. Little
by little, a sweet melody develops which with tambourines
accompanies the woman's song. She has a rich, warm
voice. This Mussulmana is beautiful. She is aboyt
twenty-eight years old, tall, with large almond-shajfcd
eyes, robed in a black sari bordered with silver and wear-
ing long amt#r ear-rings, bracelets on her wrists, and silver
HYDERABAD THE MUSSULMANA 193
bells around her batfe ankles.
Her song evokes long treks by caravan across burning,
sandy deserts, evenings and icy dawns under a tent. The
rhythm quickens; it is the mounting of the warriors. Then
the glissando of Arab guitars evokes a beautiful Emir on
fhe teitace of his palace, reposing after battle beside his
beloved Sultana. Finally, it is again the caravan, the im-
mense desert of rose sands. . . .mirages of oasis with cool
springs, eternal mirages 1
\oice and music have died away. The Mussulmana
con^ towards us with a smile and asks us in broken English
if we are pleased with her performance. We hasten to
express^ our pleasure. Then, she tells us about her life:
she comes fromTDelhi, she is married and has two children,
she travels about India and earns her living by her singing
and darcigg. .
The music begins again. Now it is a slow dance:
the snake charmer. With skilful fingers, the Mussulmana
forms er handkerchief into a cobra rearing up on its tail,
whkh she places on the floor. She then dances round it,
chanting softly, charming it with the tinkling of the
silver bells on her ankles. Her feet scan the music. She
turns, her beautiful supple body bends to and fro, and
lastly she falls on her knees. The serpent is fascinated.
^ J4re songs, more dances. Islam ! Islam with its dis-
torting beauties, its poetry, its appeal to dream
On our last morning in Hyderabad, we pay a visit to
Golconda. Half-an-hour's drive along a road bordered by
green meadows brfcigs us within sight of the donjons and
ramparts of the ancient fortress of Golconda standing amid
its romantic scenery of granite blocks. Ruins of a mosque
neighbour with bastions, embattled towers, cannon balls
souvenirs of long-ago battles, scenes of long sieges, sup-
plied no doubt by the famous treasures of ancient Golconda.
Alas 1 Mosques and cannons 1 Prayer and war, here as
everywhere else. The muezzin's chant froQi the pinnacle
13
194 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
of the minarets mingled with th$ wild clamour of the
battle beneath. *
Instead of these sad ruins, we prefer to wander in the
resting place of Golconda's ancient kings which is situatec
not far from the fortress. Cemetery of Islam 1 Imposing
tombs with great high cupolas supported by arcades oi
massive pillars. There, under each mausoleum, sleeps a
sultan, a famous prince, in the divine sleep of death.
Along the alleys bordered by centenary trees, where
roses and jasmine mingle their perfume, and only the 1 song
of red birds breaks the peaceful silence, we go from KI^USO-
leum to mausoleum. I venture inside one of these tombs.
I read the name of a prince which I do jiot know. Was
he a cruel warrior, or perhaps a pompouS prince covered
with jewels among his adorable wives ? Who knows !
Or, maybe he was a poet, a mystic, or both at onqp, as the
celebrated Abu-Said; or*again, a learned alchemist in the
same category as a Geber.
On coming out of the mausoleum, we hear^ clear
voice ringing through the calm, warm morning air, A
man's voice coming from a near by mosque hidden behind
a curtain of trees. Sitting down on a bench, we listen
to it. It is a religious chant floating on the breeze. The
muezzin, doubtless. The tones mount like spirals of
blue smoke ascending and mingling with the aznre.
A prayer to Allah ! I think of the prodigious life* of
the Prophet of Islam.
Far away in Arabia, in Mecca, there lived a child who
was orphaned and left with an inheritance of only three
camels. At the age of twenty-four, he travelled, entered
into commerce, married a rich woman much f older than
himself : Khadija. After the marriage, years of solitude
passed, full of the inner struggles which only prophets
experience. Nothing is known about his solitary years
of meditation. One day, he heard within him the "Voice."
It revealed to him his mission. He returned to Khadija,
his well-beloved. She believed in him, she had faith in him
and she encouraged him to obey the Voice. She became
HYDERABAD THE MUSSULMANA 195
his first disciple. It was Mahomet's mission. He became
the Prophet, "he who is never unfaithful to his word/'
who taught the way of life where there are no more
mirages. He had enemies and civil war broke out but he
triumphed. Nevertheless, he, Mahomet, the man "who
never lied," lived a simple life, humble, frugal, mending
his own clothing, putting the nails into his own shoes,
while thousands and thousands of beings bowed before
him s before an inspired Prophet.
Astonishing life, above all when one thinks of what
was*tfie teaching of Islam. For five centuries, from the
8th to the 1 3th, from this teaching came the torch of the
science, which jilumined both East and West. Every-
where schools, universities were founded. Carthage,
Cairo, Bagdad, Morocco, Spain and the rest of Europe saw
this light .appear. Mathematics, alchemy, astronomy, as-
trology, philosophy, architecture, poetry, agriculture,
nearly all the realms of human thought in the West found
themselves enriched by this Islamic contribution which
had fits source in Greece and above all in India.
Although India was invaded by the Mussulmans and
suffered from this invasion, en the other hand one cannot
deny that the genius of Islam enriched her in some domains,
such as painting, poetry, architecture. Mogul India has
lcf*fhtiliiant traces which can still be seen in the museums,
the libraries, as well as in the unforgettable monuments
of the North of India, at Delhi, Agra, and elsewhere. The
great Emperor Akbar, in particular, enriched India by his
genius of organisation, so profoundly human and compas-
sionat, genius which in many respects joined hands across
the centurks with*that of the Buddhist Emperor Asoka.
Akbar dreamed of the unity of India. All his efforts were
directed towards that end. *To realise this unity, how
numerous were the attempts made by him in whose veins,
ran the blood of Tamerlan and of Gengis Khan.
Moreover, from the tree of Islam, sprang Sufism,
perhaps its most beautiful flower, the profound mysticism
which is love, devotion, peace, and brotheAood. "Thou
196 - THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
art the absolute being/' cried a mystic, Sijfi Jami, "any
other teaching is but fanaticism, for in thy universe, al]
beings are but one."
Brotherhood. Unity. Then, you Mussulmans whc
live side by side with your Hindu brothers, what couy
you not accomplish by taking each other's hands in a
brotherly gesture ? And you, Hindus, who read and
meditate on the Ebagavad-Gita, do you not remember what
Shri-Krishna said ? "I am the Soul which is seated in
the hearts of all living beings." Is this not an appeal to
unity, to brotherhood ? Could you not then, you Mifssul-
mans and Hindus, respect each other in practising the
verses that you psalmody in your mosqtfss and temples ?
The goal is high, glorious. It is worth some sacrifices.
....Behind the trees, the muezzin still cfcafcts from
the pinnacle of his minaret. Thus, while away in the
distant Hyderabad the Mussulmana, glitters in the noon-
day sun, I think of the word ISLAM. r
Islam: To submit oneself to the Divine.
CHAPTER XXI
TWO TOMBS, THE FAIR IN THE DESERT
CLOUDY weather. A hot wind blowing. A veiled
m sun for the first time since we left the Blue Mountains.
*We are mounting towards the North West where
the klessed monsoon is still refreshing the earth, even during
this latter part of September. But we miss Surya, the
radiant. Sun of tiie Veda, which has shown itself so rarely
today. We are tempted to sing the Vedic hymn, hoping
that the king of the world may reappear in all his splendour:
*
"The great standard of Surya is hoisted,
It floats in the ocean of air and
Vivifies all beings.
"He rises in the heaven, the gold orb,
The conquering and brilliant God who
Casts ajar his looks and his footsteps.
The sun gives life to people who act
t And begin work."
1 *
We left Hyderabad in the early part of the afternoon.
It is now six o'clock in the evening. We have already
covered nearly two hundred miles en route for the famous
caves of Ajanta and Ellora, where we shall arrive tomorrow
morning, if the devas are propitious to us.
After^rossing the great plains of the Mussulman State,
we are at this moment in search of a dak-bungalow in which
to pass the night. In any case* we are well within the neigh-
bourhood indicated by the Madras Automobile Club's
guide to stopping places. Ah ! here is a little building
on the right. We hail a passer-by on the route. Happily,
there are always a few ! He makes gestures and speaks
198 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
volubly to our "boy" but we do no| understand him very
well. He must be speaking in Urdu. The^diversity of
dialects in India is a great difficulty. Here they speak
Gujerati, Hindi, Bengali; there Tamil, Urdu, Telegu,
Kannarese, Malay alam, and how many others. Here's
to Hindi as a national language to unite all hearts and intel*
ligences.
Finally, C. gets out of the car and goes to find ouf
for himself whether the building in question is a dak-
bungalow. Sadly, I realise that the beautiful evening
hour is no longer glowing with its magic colours.; The
horizon is, certainly, a mass of red fire, but that announces
wind. Where are the mauves, the greens, the rose of
Hyderabad ? Far behind us. And thos^of the South ?
Still further away, on the Coast of Spices
C. comes back making a despairing gesture. It
is certainly the bungalow? but it is in rums/ There
is nothing to do but to continue our journey. In this
deserted country, villages are rare and travellers' cottages
still more so. *
Night falls. We speed along towards a locality
indicated in our guide book. For two hours, on we go
while the wind beats against the windows of our car.
Here come a few houses. We enquire of two turbaned
men, chatting together on a little stone bridge. Nothing.
No bungalow. . * -*
On, on, on, we go through the night. We eat some
bananas. Where shall we stop ? At Naldrug, perhaps.
A dak-bungalow is indicated there. The night is so dark
that we can see nothing through the car windows ^hich,
moreover, are shaking m the wind. Tfce poor chauffeur
is exhausted. As for the "boy/* it is all thtf same to
him, he sleeps.
Midnight. The route ascends slightly and it seems as
if we are mounting towards a plateau. Some scattered
white houses stand out against the dark, cloud-banked
sky. We get out of the car and knock at a door. A
brave Hindu, still very sleepy, appears on the threshold.
TWO TOMBS 199
He half understands \|hat we ask him and makes an affir-
mative sign.* It is certainly Naldrug and it is he himself
who is in ~ charge of the travellers' cottage. The devas
are propitious.
The bungalow is a nice one. It seems to stand on
high gcound dominating a plain situated on a slightly
lower level. But it is difficult to see anything in this inky-
night. What a wind !
At one o'clock in the morning, we are tucked into
our t>eddings. Dinner will be for tomorrow. What
does St matter ! I listen to the great wind of the plains
of Hindustan which is shaking our one-night shelter.
I see mosques ^and in the court of one of them, I
perceiVe a Shita dancing Now, it is the temple of
Madura with a minaret looking over the tank of the
Gold I^ptus How strange ! . . . . I am dreaming,
doubtless?. . .It would be too* beautiful !
jOur morning at Naldrug rests us a little after the
fatigue of last evening. We shall have to make another
long stage this afternoon.
Just as we thought yesterday evening, the dak-bunga-
low stands on an eminence. This high ground dominates
an jmn^ense plain with soil the colour of raw sienna, on
which stand tfp a few scattered green trees. The sky is
still cloud-covered, even this great wind does not succeed
in chasing away the clouds.
We visit the village which is situated lower down.
An old fortress in ruins, with dungeons, embattled walls,
moats, reminds usthat we are still on Mussulman terri-
tory. The village stands under the shade of beautiful
trees; it has, of course, a ba2aar.
In a small square, we come upon a group of women
Bandjars: Bohemian nomads. What beautiful women
they are, especially one who is a handsome dark type.
She is young, tall, clothed in a low-cut bodice made of
green, red, and yellow bands and adorned with tiny span-
200 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
gles of glass, resembling mica. Hbw picturesque she is
in her full skirt, a profusion of necklaces twined around
her neck, a ring of gold adorning her nose, long ear-rings
falling on to her shoulders, bracelets on both arms reaching
above the elbows, rings on all her fingers, even on her
thumbs, and her ankles encircled with gold anklets 1
A large square of stuff, pinned in her hair, falls over her
back, the ends of which are lifted and attached to "her
waist.
This group makes a curious and attractive picture.
We photograph them, receiving a wild look frofa the
one whom we have just described. True Tziganes, it
is said, are of Hindu origin. Certainly those who are
not of mixed race remind one of ceftain Hindustan
types and even their language is similar. From where
do they come ? Where do they go, these Bohemians in
their wandering journeys'? They say, perhaps, *tlie bonne
aventure^ or the bad 1 We must leave them to their
mystery.
We remount towards the bungalow. Half-way up
the hill, we are attracted by a door in Moresque style
opening into an enclosure. We push it. What a ravish-
ing place, full of calm and touching poetry ! r
We are transported suddenly into a scene of ttie time
of Akbar. Standing in the shadow of some trees, a group
of beautiful Indo-Mussulman architecture is unfolded
before us; kiosks, arches with delicately lace-worked ogives,
crowned by little cupolas and latticed balustrades. In
one corner of the enclosure is a humble mosque with
minarets turned towards Mecca. In another a paVilion with
arcades through which can t be seen, stretching away as
far as the eye can reach, the plain with its colour of raw
sienna. In the centre of the pavilion: two tombs, side
by side.
Twin tombs, slabs of broken stone, wild flowers grow-
ing in their mossy cracks. Tombs of a sultan and sultana.
TWO TOMBS 201
She and He ! One Aone is finely sculptured and the half-
effaced Arabic inscriptions are still visible. Beneath the
arcades breathes the wind of eternity. She and He 1 always
together throughout the revolutions of time. She was
doubtless his inspiratrix, as are so many Mussulman
women, as was Khadija to Mahomet. A cool breath
of air, softer than silk, a seed-idea which sparkles, and
femininity fructifies the Well-Beloved. He works, creates
and achieves. She and He, lying here side by side. They
livod, perhaps, the wonderful life of living souls, aflame,
with! the light which enlightens, living souls who never
die, who soar upwards without faltering on the way of
realisation, the way of their love, living souls aureoled
with Mobility V She and He 1
What a strong, sweet impression radiates from these
two Mussulman tombs, side by side facing the plains of
Hindustan swept by the eternal wind !
Noon. We start for the long stage. Goodbye
Na'ldrug ! Farewell twin tombs !
For hours, we advance in the teeth of the wind along
a road bordered with aloes. A breakdown stops us for
an hour and then off we start again. The sky is lowering,
tijje su^ absent, the air heavy. The plain becomes a desert,
scattered with the dark spots of a few clusters of trees. No
habitation.
An exclamation from our companions arouses us
out of our drowsy reverie. On our right, a whole herd
of TOild deer are leaping across the desert. They bound
along, the noble animals, in a wild galop towards the North
West, fleeing from hunters or leopards. It is certainly
not we who will stop them in their flight. We spin along
at full speed in order to follow them. But they outstrip
us crossing the route far in advance and then fading into
the colour of the desert.
Two hours before sunset, in the far distance before
us we glimpse a mass of white specks dotted over the desert.
202 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
What is going on ? As we advance, ^e can see the specks
moving. A mirage? No. An enormous cfowd assem-
bled in the desert. Empty bullock carts are standing along
the route: a prodigious activity.
We stop and get out of the car. Our boy makes en-
quiries. It is a bazaar of a day, a fair which takes- place
every month, or perhaps every year. We mix with the
crowd. There are Mussulmans, in majority, some Bohe- '
mians, and also many Hindus. What colour ! in spite
of the grey sky. Mussulman women, barefooted, astride
the 2ebus, from whose painted horns red pompons jre
swinging, are preparing to depart. Whole families are
grouped around their ancestral chariot with its enormous
wheels. One old man, at the head of his l5cast, is Wading
the whole of his huge cart-load. He is not pleased about
having his photograph taken, so he puts his fingerj in his
nose. These poor families come from far distances in or-
der to sell a little millet, rice, plaited baskets .... Saris
and turbans mingle in a sea or colours. t
Objects for sale are displayed on pieces of cloth .or
even on the sand. There are quantities of the most vari-
ous things: eggs, bamboo flutes, pins, pious images,
seeds, mirrors, necklaces, fruit, little copper cymbals,
vegetables ----
At a nearby pond, almost dried up, the zebus go v>
drink while the men, women, and childrerf bathe their
feet. Music bursts out. It is the dancers of the fair who
are dancing and shaking light cymbals in the form of
castagtettes, while musicians play on flutes and on long
primitive clarionets. These dancers are good, A well-
timed rhythm, almost martial, to whick they bend their
knees, their busts, in perfect equilibrium. Then leaps,
worthy of Russian dancers, lift them into the air, followed
once more by the staccato march. This lasts for a long
time and the crowd laughs with delight.
Then, the carts begin to pack up, families leave,
crammed in between the two high wheels which creak
and grind as they turn slowly on the way. They are
TWO TOMBS 203
I .
going back to their Aoor, far-off vilkges, happy neverthe-
less because of this rare and unexpected diversion. A
moment of pleasure I
It is growing late. The day is sinking. We regain
our car, followed by some men and youths who, with many
.smiles* bid us goodbye.
. . . .When we arrive at Chancela, a little village lost
'in Hyderabad State, it is very late. Although there is a
strong wind blowing, it is beginning to rain. Rain !
What a disagreeable sensation in this country of the sun!
It ratns great drops, real drops, which transform into a
delfcge.
We take refuge in the dak bungalow, which stands
in the* middle tff a field. What a dark, wet night ! The
rain tambourines on the roofs. The wind blows through
the great trees. On the plain also, it is raining in torrents
and blowing a gale. The pool? folks of the desert fair
will be soaked en route.
CHAPTER XXII
THE TRIPLE REFUGE
AURANGABAD at last. We ought to have arrived early
this morning but it is now five o'clock in the
afternoon ! A terrible journey through a tengpest,
torrents of rain falling without a break. We are in the ti%art
of the monsoon. Then our supply of petrol ran short.
We found a gallon or so in a village hospi^tl and sq have
arrived for good or ill, more ill than good, at this town on
the borders of Hyderabad State in the proximity of
Ajanta and Ellora. t *
Owing to a special permit, we shall stay at the sump-
tuous dak-bungalow reserved for "officials," situated
on a healthy plateau near British headquarters, but %wept
at this moment by monsoon tempests particularly abun-
dant and terrible. The Indian servants certainly take
us for generals in mufti. They give us military salutes,
so military that we believe we shall be metamorphosed
suddenly into great conquerors worthy of Tamerlan or
Gengis Khan. 9 *
The view from the plateau is limited by great iso-
lated mountains and huge bare, frowning rocks, drowned
in the rain.
We start out to find a post office, carefully des^end-
ing the road leading to the town which nestles in the
valley. Another serious break-down stops * us. Im-
possible to advance. I take .a tonga and remount on to
the pkteau in order to seek help while C. and A. remain
with the car. Thanks to the extreme kindness of an
English officer, Major L. a military car is sent to fetch our
car which can be repaired at the headquarters camp. But
it will take two days. I cannot tell you how more than
THE TRIPLE REFUGE . 205
kind Major^ L. and tiis charming wife, a French woman,
have been* to us. And their reception of an evening
was simply delightful.
The following morning, we obtain information about
the departure of the omnibuses going to Ajanta. Very
bad news. The route is impracticable, the waters of a
rivgr having swollen to a torrent and endangering the
surrounding country. Since yesterday, buses and cars
ha^e been stopped.
We are struck with consternation. So we shall not
be able to vi%k Ajanta, the Buddhist sanctuary contain-
ing the celebrated frescoes which are unique in the world I
Then, we will go to Ellora which is also a pure marvel
and which we also want to visit. Major L. very generously
and kmdiy puts his chauffeur and car at our service,
besides giving us an authorisation to visit on our way the
fortress of Daulatabad.
We set out under a sky slightly more serene, the gale
having scattered the clouds. We shall have a long after-
noon in which to roam through the marvellous caves of
Ellora.
We speed along towards the great sombre moun-
tSins *barring the horizon and contrasting sharply with
the greenness of the plain which for three months has
been absorbing diluvian rains. All is fresh and the trees
are wearing springtime colours. Before the pass moun-
ting^ through the ghats stands a tall isolated rock:
it is the fortress of Daulatabad. For neighbour,
it has a*beautiful solitary minaret. As at Golconda,
prayer and war, side by side. From the time of
the Crusades, it has been 'the same. Humanity hardly
changes. The whole of this great rock, from the base
to the summit, is a mass of ancient casemates, underground
tunnels, ramparts, moats containing deep treacherous
waters, galleries hollowed right out of the rock. Almost
a Gibraltar. From this fortress, the view is wonderful.
206 c THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
Rearing up before us ate the great mountains that we are
about to cross on our way to Ellora whose ancient caves
we are so desirous to see.
The route zigzags upwards, ending on a plateau
encircled by still higher mountains. We cross a village
where we glimpse the mausoleum of Aurengseb, the"
Mogul emperor who succeeded Akbar but who was not .
able to preserve harmony between the Mussulmans and
Hindus.
Then, we descend a gently sloping road. Suddenly,
before us appear limitless plains and on the mountain aide
the caves of Ellora, enormous cells hollowed right in the
walls of the rock. c r
The history of these caves has raised many discussions.
If the origin of the excavations is lost in the night of time,
Indian paleographs protest when Western archaeologists
attribute them to the Buddhists. The theory which holds
that all the excavated temples of India are of Buddhist
origin does not seem, in fact, to be exact. In the c caves
at first sight, there appears to be a mixture of Hinduism
and Buddhism. However, the history of these two
religions shows well that if the second, Buddhism, issued
from the first, Hinduism, their cults have never been
interlaced. The Buddhists were always opposed by the
Brahmans, and even the few Buddhist communities whith
continued to exist in India and deserted the pure Buddhist
teachings, never rallied to Brahmanism, but amalgamated
with the Jains and were absorbed by them. Otherwise,
it would be necessary to admit that the Buddhists became
at a given moment adorers of the gods of the BrahAianic
pantheon, but such a theory would be iriipossiblato accept
in view of the history, even, of Buddhism. What is con-
ceivable is that Buddhist mohks made use of the caves
which had been constructed, sculptured, and afterwards
abandoned by the faithful of Hinduism and installed in
them their viharas* their monasteries. Two cults succeeded
each other, then, in these tunnelled temples: that of
Brahmanism and that of Buddhism. One could say of
THE TRIPLE REFUGE ZOJ
Ellora what Monsieu^ Grousset so justly said a propos of
Ajanta; it "is "the very synthesis of the Indian soul."
It is true. If at Ellora the Brahmanic element pre-
dominates more than at Ajanta, nevertheless it has the
souvenir of Gautama the Buddha, the Beggar Prince
one of the greatest among men.
It is not without deep feeling that we cross the thres-
hold of these caves firstly from the point of view of their
Brahmanic aspect. Here we are under the open sky before
the 'temple of Kailasa, constructed and sculptured out of
the^rbck. Kailasa, the dwelling of the gods, in which is
seen everywhere the god Shiva, the Destroyer, the Buil-
der. He is theje on all the pillars and in all the corners,
entrancing in* his many and various poses.
However, here at Ellora, Shiva becomes more gentle.
In one Admirable sculpture, he ^s beside Parvati, his con-
sort, his Shakti. Ravana the demon is trying to make the
mountain on which they are standing crumble and collapse.
Parvali, trembling with terror, buries herself against her
go4 Shiva, her triend, her refuge. The whole of this
sculpture is supported by an extraordinary tliphantomachie.
Then further on is the scene of the Kiss, the infinite
embrace of two beings, one of the most striking achieve-
ments in stone that one could contemplate. In this temple,
w do <iot see the force and cosmic power of life portrayed
so marvellously in the Nataraja at Chidambaram. Shiva
at Ellora has become more' human. He has become man.
He protects, produces, builds. He is more tender, he
shows his love. He lets us have a presentiment of what
is coming in the future, a manifestation of Vishnu, an
Avatar: tjje Beggar Prince, the Buddha.
The divine figure of the Beggar Prince stands out
more clearly in the measure that we penetrate more deeply
the cave monastery, where long ago the monks and faith-
ful of the Buddha assembled. There are no more gods.
All is calm, interior. In the great halls bitfied under the
208 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
*
rock) in the lofty naves formed lj[ke overturned boats,
a unique figure in stone is sheltered: that of the Buddha
or of his predecessors, the Bodhisatvas. What resonance
there is here ! The least sound gives birth to vibrations
which echo and re-echo under the great vaults. It becomes
like the chime of a bell: the divine chime which tan be 1
heard in the human heart.
"He who would hear the voice of Nada, the 'Soundless
Sound* and comprehend it, has to learn the nature of
Dharana (concentration, meditation) . . . . T
"Look inward: thou art Buddha."
Thus say the Buddhist Writings.
Certainly, an atmosphere of meditation fills these
caves, these peaceful cell^, which look out eten\jjly over
immense plains and which narrate to us the life of the man
who became a Buddha.*
According to Ceylon chronicles, Gautama was born at
Kapilavastu in the noble land of the Sakyas, lying at the
foot of the immaculate heights of the Himalayas, in the
year 621 before our era. His father was King Suddhodana I
and his mother, Queen Maya.
He was a very thoughtful youth. He often aban-
doned a game, a race nearly won, in the flowering parks
in order to give himself up to his immens dream. His
masters, the most erudite in the kingdom, were astonished
at the learning of the boy prince like Jesus on the steps
of the temple confounding with his questions the
wondering doctors of Israel. i
At the age of eighteen, when the 'stars wgre favour-
able, his marriage to the sweet Princess Yasodhara was
celebrated. The two fiances seated on the gadi> the nup-
tial cushion, had wedding garlands twined round their
necks. When the cake was broken, rice and attar, a rare
*We refer the reader to the beautiful book, the "Light of Asia"
by Edwin Arnol^
THE TRIPLE REFUGE 209
and subtle perfume, \fere poured out and both the fiances
three times* made seVen steps around the fire. Their
clothes were linked together, mantrams were chanted,
alms were distributed amongst the poor, and a
radiant dream of love commenced.
But a sacred destiny must be accomplished. In the
happy palace, when the Prince rested his sleeping head,
with his beautiful calm traits, on the amber-coloured
breast of Yasodhara, with agony she heard him murmur-
ing "words that she could not understand. He seemed to
be a3dressing a universe of men. "I am coming, I am
coAing," he said. On the terrace of the palace, the breeze
swaying the great palms dried the Princess's tears.
One day, <5autama wished to see the town. By order
of the King, it was adorned with the most beautiful flowers
and all saddening sights were removed so that the Prince
in passfiTg might not see any spe&acle to cause him sorrow.
But while the Prince was passing through the streets, an
old n|an, broken down with old age and illness, emerged
from the ranks of the crowd and threw himself at the
feet of the Prince asking for his help. Thus was presented
to him what he never thought to see: the sorrow of the
world.
At last, the hour for his departure came. During
a ^we^t Indian night, Gautama bade farewell to Yasodhaia
while she wa* sleeping, her anxious heart oppressing her
lovely breast.
"I will depart" he spake; "the hour is come I
Thy tender lips, dear Sleeper^ summon me
To that which* saves the earth but sunders us;
Ancfin the silence of yon sky I read
My fated message flashing. Unto this
Came I, and unto this all nights and days
Have led me; for I will not nave that crown
Which may be mine: I lay aside those realms
Which wait the gleaming of my naked sword:
My chariot shall not roll with bloody wheels
14 *
210 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
*
From victory to victory, till earth
Wears the red record' of my name. I cby>se
To tread its paths with patient, stainless feet,
Making its dust my bed, its loneliest wastes
My dwelling, and its meanest things tgy mates;
Clad in no prouder garb than outcasts wear,
Fed with no meats save what the charitable
Give of their will, sheltered by no more pomp
Than the dim cave lends or the jungle-bush.
This will I do because the woful cry
Of life and all flesh living cometh up
Into my ears, and all my soul is full
OfP*tyf or the sickness of this world;
Which 1 will heal, if healing may
By uttermost renouncing and strong strife. . . .
Oh, summoning stars! I come I oh, mournful earth I
For thee and thine I laj aside my youth, *"'
My throne, my joys, my golden days, my nights,
My happy palace and thine arms, sweet Queen I %
Harder to put aside than all the rest I
Yet thee, too, I shall save, saving this earth;
And that which stirs within thy tender womb,
My child, the hidden blossom of our loves,
whom if I wait to bless my mind will faiL
Wife I child I father I ana people ! ye must share
A little while the anguish of this hour
That light may break and all flesh learn the Law.
Now am I fixed, and now I will depart,
Never to come again, till what I seek
Be found if fervent search and strife avail"*
Three times, he went away. Three times, h returned.
Then, he went out into the night.
Years of search began. For seven years he sought
for a remedy which could deliver the world from sorrow.
Prince Gautama had become the Beggar Prince. Clothed
* The Ugbt of ASM, Book the Fourth, by Edwin Arnold.
THE TRIPLE REFUGE , 21 1
1
in the yellow robe oft a mendicant monk, he went from
village to viflage along the routes of India, his begging
bowl in his hand. Over his emaciated body, summers
of fire passed and torrential rains of monsoon seasons.
And when he passed by, calm and recollected, with the
light of radiant dawn in his eyes, all hearts were flooded
by a fountain of joy and happiness.
A village in the valley of the Ganges. It is Gaya.
Far ,off, soar the snowy peaks of the Himalayas. Here
it is tjiat the Lord obtained his supreme illumination, that
Gautama became the Buddha. Seated under a fig tree,
assailed by the most diverse temptations, calm, immutable*
his interior gasp fixed upon the goal that he sought, his
consciousness mingled with the universal Consciousness*
He saw, he understood. Before him unfolded the long pil-
grimage-of Man through the vicissitudes of birth, death,
and rebirth. He saw the goal for man to attain: to become
Light. Knowledge, Peace, Love, the four jewels of man
become a Man a Buddha. He communed with the sources
of Hfe. He received Nature's kiss, the eternal message
that she reserves for every being who asks for it, "Ask
and you shall receive." The message of all the Buddhas,
all the Christs. He had become the Light, the Knowl-
edge, the Peace, the Love. *
Hfs mission commenced. He came back to the
palace of Yasodhara and to that of his father. To them
all, to his Well-Beloved, to his son whom he blessed,
as to all, he showed the way leading to sovereign Peace.
Thence, for forty-five years, Gautama the Buddha in his
yellow robe paced^the great routes of India, delivering his
message to the thousands and thousands of beings who
followed him, the message contained in his first sermoa
of Benares.
Oh! these lessons. Who does not feel when read-
ing them or listening to them, even the indifferent ones,,
a breath of pure wisdom, like a wind coming from very-
far, from infinite spaces where Time exists no more?...
"The books say well, my brothers," thus commended
211 . THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
t
the Lord Buddha at Benares, in tke park o{ the gazelles,
And he continued:
"Each man's life
The outcome of bis former living is;
The bygone wrongs bring forth sorrows and woes,
The bygone right breeds bliss.
"That which ye sow ye reap. See yonder fields!
The sesamum was sesamum, the corn
Was corn. The silence and the darkness knew!
So is a man 9 s fate born.
"He cometh, reaper of the things he sowed,
Sesamum, corn, so much cast in past birth; *
And so much weed and poison-stuff, which mar
Him and the aching Dearth. ^
"If he shall labour rightly, rooting these,
And planting wholesome seedlings where they grew ^
Fruitful and fair and clean the ground shall be,
And rich the harvest due. *
*'If he who liveth, learning whence woe springs,
Endure th patiently, striving to pay
His utmost aebt for ancient evils done
In Love and Truth ahvays ; \
"If making none to lack, he thoroughly purge
The lie and lust of self forth from his blood ;
Suffering all meekly, rendering for offence
Nothing but grace and good;
"If he shall dqy by day dwell merciful, f
Holy and just ana kind and true; and rend
Desire from where it clings with bleeding roots,
Till love of life have end:
"He dying leaveth as the sum of him
A life-count closed, whose ills are dead and quit,
Whose good is quick and mighty, far and near,
So that f frits follow it.
THE TRIPLE REFUGE 213
"No need hath such tq live as ye name life ;
That which began ^in him when he began
Is finished: He hath wrought the purpose through
Of what did make him Man.
"Never shall yearnings torture him, nor sins
> Stain him, nor ache of earthly joys and woes
Invade his safe eternal peace; nor deaths
And lives recur. He goes
"Unto Nirvana. He is one with Life,
* *Yet lives not. He is blest, ceasing to be.
Om^mani padme, oml the Dewdrop slips
Into the shining sea I
"This* is the Jbctrine of the Karma "*
Then, the Lord taught the four holy Truths on suffering.
First: that Universal suffering is.
Second: the Cause of suffering. // comes from desire,
the deceiving mirages of our desire for earthly
possessions. From that comes struggles, concupi-
scence, wars.
Third: Cessation of suffering, by the purification of
our desires.
%
Fourth: the Way, the Noble Eightfold Path: pure faith,
pure speech, pure acts, means of pure existence,
pure application, pure thought, pure memory,
pure meditation.
Such is the path which leads to liberation.
And Vhen the Blessed one, lying like a lion on a bed
of leaves, prepared to quit this world, he addressed his
last words to his faithful disciple, Ananda, and to the others
assembled around him in tears:
* Ibid. Book the Eighth.
214 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
"ft may be, Ananda, that you ttynk thus: the World has
lost its master, we have no longer a master. One ought not
to think thus, O Ananda. The doctrine, Ananda, is the
rule that I have taught and preached, there is your refuge
when I am gone. Work with diligence for your deli-
verance."
The world had lost a Man. But his light remains
for ever. By it, the Lord is always present in the spiri-
tual atmosphere of humanity.
Today, two hundred millions beings in Asia m -do
not say India, except Ceylon and Nepal as millions of
souls long ago, meditate, repeat, and sing the Pancha-Si/a,
of which the following are the "Three Jewels" or "Three
Refuges": s
"Buddbam saranam gachami,
Dhamam saranam gacfyami,
Sangham saranam gachami"
"I take refuge in the ftuddha, $
I take refuge in the Doctrine,
I take refuge in the Community."
CHAPTER XXIU
HINDU VILLAGES, THE WOMEN OF INDIA
THIS evening, sitting in a room of the dak-bungalow
writing these notes, I listen to the raging wind and
; rain. Tomorrow morning will be our departure
fotNasik, the last stage of our journey to Bombay. After-
wards, there will be our final departure, the one for Europe.
The great* journey is coming to an end. We shall
see no more the temples of Shiva, Vishnu We shall
see no more the blue pigeons wheeling around the gopur-
ams. We shall hear no more thc*creaking and grinding of
bullock cart wheels, nor the click-click of the tonga-
drivej's tongue. . . .
Thig evening, before my eyes come scenes of Kailasa,
the*Kiss, and above all my mind is filled with the marvellous
life of the Buddha. I see him still, trudging on foot
through the villages of India, clothed in his yellow robe,
his begging bowl in his hand, leaving wherever he passed
a, furrow of love and wisdom. The villages of India !
. . . .He loved them. In a few days, I shall see them no
more. Before time can efface the impressions gathered du-
ring the course of our long pilgrimage, I want to imprint
several souvenirs in my mind so that later on I may be
able to turn with precision the leaves of the album called
memory. Album? of yesterday, album of past joys. By-
gone tim^s, a fireside corner, dear souvenirs ! . . . .
For the ordinary tourist, a route is always a route.
There are villages that one crosses, people whom one meets,
and. . . .dust. In India, of course, there are villages, peo-
ple, and dust. But there is something more. The curious
2l6 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
will see nothing or very little. They* will say, as the travel-
ler did who was asked his impression on India: "Oh 1
very pretty, but what dust 1"
The Hindu people, do not forget, is essentially a pasto-
ral people. In my opinion, one cannot know India unless
one visits her villages. In every country, it is the peasant <
who forms the armature of the nation and India has not
escaped this law. The regeneration of a people must com-
mence in the village. So, let us try to sing the heart-stir-
ring routes of India. * .
Along the Indian routes, burned by a sun of fire,
and during the summer months, refreshed by monsoon
rains, all the hours of the day are differenf <and possess an
inexpressible charm and power.
At first, there are the exquisite morning hours, fresh
and dew-pearled in the reen palm groves and'" in the
tangled jungle, filled with its strange noises.
Perhaps it is a village on the route to Mysore, Tajijore,
Kumbakonam, no matter where. Under the fronds of
palms, through which the sun is filtering, the village awak-
ens at an early hour. Parrots, the bulbul with its marvel-
lous song, colibris with bright or delicate tints, sing in
the mango trees their morning hymn to Nature, while
crows, swallows, and blue pigeons wheel around the,gop\i-
ram of the little temple purpled by the rising sun. In the
hedges, hop the "seven sisters," strange brown birds
which go in groups of seven. It is a joyous concert of
whistling, trills, cawing, screeching, and cooing. In the
tender green rice fields, herons march about gravely.
Monkeys frolic in the branches of the banyan trees or hold
mysterious and endless councils on an old half-crumbled
wall. In the temple court, peacocks strut about spreading
out their moire tails adorned with glistening blue and
gold discs. From holes in the trees, heads of lizards
suddenly appear and with their supple little bodies they
quickly glide away through the rugged bark. From bushes
of wild jasmine comes the humming of bees at work,
HINDU VILLAGES WOMEN OF INDIA 2IJ
while large rose and* red butterflies hover delicately over
the flowers *>f hibiscus and lantana. What pastoral charm
in these villages, nestling under great palms ! Humble
and patriarchal life of past ages, the same today as it was
in the time of Krishna. Exquisite freshness of the
early "ages, not yet polluted by the lies, egoism, greed,
and brutality of modern man. Simple life, certainly too
poor and perhaps too isolated for modern times. Poverty
is so great in India 1
. Let us go into one of the poor dwellings, built of beaten
eartfc and covered with a roof of dried palm leaves. As
so&i as dawn breaks, awakening the village sleeping in
its deep peace, the man and woman begin their toilet,
bathiftg themsflves by pouring water drawn from the vil-
lage wells over their bodies. In their willow cradles, the
babies of India still sleep, naked or nearly so, tranquil,
sometimes grave, in their adoraftle attitudes, watched over
by pious images of Shiva, Lakshmi, Saraswati, suspended
to the white-washed walls. In one corner, the mats which
serve for beds are already folded. Perhaps there is a table,
a chair, a glass, a chest, some stuff bought at the bazaar. .
. . A vaulted opening leads into the place serving as kitchen,
where goat's milk is heating on a fire of twigs or wood.
In the air floats an odour of spices and incense. These
lyits ve very poor. *
Outside,* in the lovely light of sunrise, latticed
through large palms, in a hollow corner serving for a
humble veranda, the woman clothed in her sari replaces
her husband who has been accomplishing his morning reli-
gious duties, and there she also lifts up her thoughts to-
wards the object* of her devotion : Vishnu or Shiva or
Ganesha* Then, with joined hands passing from heart to
forehead, in a gesture of offering, she salutes the divinity
of her heart. Religious routine in which, unfortunately,
enters superstition upheld severely by the Brahmans.
During the course of the morning or the afternoon, they
will go to the temple to place a garland of jasmine at the
feet of the god or goddess.
2 1 8 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
While the woman remains at h<?me to look after the
children or goes to the nearby ricefidd to transplant young
rice plants, her sari drawn up around her hips, her feet in
water, the head of the family goes to the fields. Clothed in
a dhoti, his inevitable Iota (copper pot) in his hand, he goes
to plough the fields or lead his cows, buffaloes, or 'goats
to a place of pasture. Very often when the child is an t
adolescent, he is charged with this mission of his father. '
Then, seated under a banyan tree, beautiful as an antique
god, he watches his herd. In this case, the man tills f tke
ground with primitive labouring instruments or, Jhar-
nessing his buffaloes to a long cart, goes to a neighbdiir-
ing village to load it with hay or sugarcane stalks.
The bazaar becomes animated, the sellers open* their
shops, and the life of the village begins. One hears the
blacksmith hammering on his forge. Before their doors,
spinners are sitting at fheir spinning wheels; basket
makers with reeds skilfully plait baskets of various forms ;
the shoemaker manufactures different sorts of sandals* The
big-bellied money-lender is always there, awaiting his too
numerous clients.
On the road, the footpaths, or on the threshold of their
houses, the people chat to each other about thececentnews,
of what has happened here or there, in a village nearby
or''even very far off. It is a known fact that in Indi%ne\YS
travels hundreds of miles with a prodigious and disconcert-
ing rapidity that is almost miraculous, if miracles existed.
The noon hour arrives. Oh ! these burning noons
when people and beasts all repose, when even the crows
seem to doze. Only the grass-hopper's voice shrills /irotn
the tall grass. . . .There is in this noonday hour something
unchangeable, something which was, is, and evet will be,
in spite of men: an aspiration to silence, to rest.
Then, activity begins again in the village, as well as
on the roads. The routes of India, as we have seen, are
never solitary. These women with the deportment of a
goddess, where do they go carrying on their head a copper
vessel and their baby astride one hip ? Some begging
HINDU VILLAGES WOMEN OF INDIA 219
friars pass, as well as whole families squeezed into tfullock-
carts. OS they go, tjie eternal travellers, quietly, without
disturbance? happy to go away somewhere, to their parents,
friends, for a death, a marriage, a holy pilgrimage. . . .
Then, in the villages, there are the children of India.
1 At the door of the temple there are two naked little boys
of about five or six years old seated on the ground like
two Buddhas near their pretty, young mother, bamboo
flutes, bananas, and coconuts spread out before them.
They have beautiful, calm features and dreams in their
gr^t eyes. Here is another of twelve years old, perhaps,
who sells copper trays at the bazaar. He is seated cross-
legged, a turbgfi swathed round his head, alert in his ges-
tures and with a smile that is an enchantment. But how
well he knows the value of an anna. Then, there is a baby,
three years old probably, sitting iaked before the door of a
sanctuary. He has fat, round cheeks and a straight little
bust. He is so grave, perhaps he is hungry. With his
finger, he traces circles in the sand; his meditative eyes
observe these circles with supreme attention, for him they
certainly represent astonishing things all his life ! . . . .
Far away in the South, at Rameshwaram, there was a
little girl of ten, alert, fine, joyous, wearing a wide gathered
skirt and sparks of diamond in her little nostrils. She was
nmecf Sarasw^ti . She developed a friendship for us, above
all for C. and she often danced and sang for us. Her
gestures, her poses, where had we seen them ? Ah ! yes,
it was at Madura on a sculptured pillar or at Tanjore,
Chidambaram, in some venerated sanctuary : a gesture
of an'Apsara, a pqpe like Lakshmi's beside her god. Like
ourselves* her family had come on pilgrimage to the tem-
ple of Rama. Saraswati, you are beautiful, my child, and
you do not know it. Guard this treasure of your grace.
Happy will be the husband who will be yours later on.
Let us hope that he will be worthy of you.
On f&e days, and they are numerous, the village as-
220 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
sumes another aspect. Ftes march *n pair with the sea-
sons, they are determined by the flowering of the jasmine
or by the wind blowing from the South, by a*day of full
moon, or by the birthday of a great Sage, a religious cere-
mony in honour of a god. Then, the village dons its most
beautiful attire.
If it is the day of Pongal, the Aryan Christmas, cele-
brated in January when the sun passes into the mysterious
and profound sign oiMakara (Capricornus) sign linked to
the forces of Nature the fete assumes a particular solem-
nity. It lasts several days. From the eve, all houses are
full of guests, relatives, friends come from far in ordei^to
celebrate the ceremony together. Each one thinks of
something with which to decorate the hou$e. Designs of
flowers and garlands are traced on the threshold with white
and red powder by means of white metal moulds. To the
great joy of the children, rfie walls, floors, are cleaned; the
doorposts are adorned with propitious colours; images of
Krishna, Ganesha, are placed in view. In the stables, after
a more rigorous cleaning than usual, the horns of the'cows
and buffaloes are painted in different colours, while garlands
of flowers are hung around their necks and little bells
attached to their fetlocks. All the cattle are given a sup-
plementary ration of forage.
< Just before dawn breaks on the first fairy day, all
heaps of ordure are burned. Then, after bathing, fever} -
one puts on their best and prettiest clothing. The women
begin then to cook the newly picked rice. The dish of rice
at Pongal is a severe trial. The least details must be ob-
served with great care: the rapidity with which the fire. is
kindled, the time which the milk takes to^boil, the direction
that it takes, each fact has an important signification in the
life of the village. Because the gods and their different
forces are mixed up in these traditions. When the dish is
ready, it is offered to Surya, the sun, the giver of life.
Afterwards, it is divided among the members of the family,
the friends, and also. . . .the old companion-servitors with
four feet.
Women of South-India
HINDU VILLAGES WOMEN OF INDIA 221
t
Then, late at nigjjtt, the village becomes hushed, silent,
all sleeps. * It was a moment of happiness, of gaiety. It
does not often come.
At the time of marriages when the astrologer has de-
cided the day according to the position of the stars the
calm of the village is broken by music and the beating of
tppi-toms.
It is a question of constructing a home on solid founda-
tions. The true home is the armature of a nation, of every
true civilisation.
Jn the \jj5est, it is the custom for the man to choose
the woman he wishes to marry. In most cases, the woman
also knows how to put herself forward. In India, in many
instances, it is the parents whe arrange according to their
wishes the marriage of their children. This custom,
alttjpugh it sometimes proves successful in application,
has become much corrupted. It comes from ancient
India where we find it in all its original purity.
At that far-off epoch, there were three kinds of
marriages: first, the marriage when the two spouses remain-
ed in their parents' home; the second, when, with their
parents' consent, the young couple left their family in oilier
\o found a ijew home elsewhere; the third, the marriage
when the two spouses made a resolution to remain chaste
throughout their life in order to realise a deeper life, the
spiritual life. Their mission was then to serve humanity.
. Moreover, each of these marriages was decided by the
guni, the true s^ge not a charlatan he who knew by his
learning the aptitudes of both of the fiances. The? *
unions were, it seems, truly blessed and wise, because they
were made with knowledge of the occult laws of life. To-
day, times have changed so much. True learning is a very
rare bird which does not often build its nest in homes.
The Hindu woman, as every other woman in the world,
is the guardian of the home. If she does not accomplish
her duty of wife and mother, she ruins te home and the
222 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
* r
state. The Bhagavad-Gita announces r this danger:
"The ruin of a family causes the ruin of the eternal reli-
gion of the family, the religion destroyed, we entire family is
pervaded with irreligion. By irreligion, women become cor-
rupt, from the corruption of women, confusion is born." *
This is why in all homes, whether in the village or the
town, one must honour the woman, the wife who is also the
mother. She must be the centre of the family, its life, ks
moral and physical support. Without her, the home be-
comes a parched desert.
Moreover, the ideal for a woman is foynd in ancient
Scriptures:
"A woman is the half (^ man, bis veritable friend.
"A loving woman is an eternal springtime of virtue, happi-
ness, and fortune.
"A faithful wife is his best auxiliary in the search of celes-
tial beatitudes.
"A wife with gentle language is a companion in solitude,
9 a father in counsel, a mother in all times of distress, a repose
on the journey across the wild regions of life"
Such is the teaching of the Mahabharata.
And the following are other qualities that she ought
to possess:
"She must be beautiful and noble, considering htr husband
as her god, and serving him the same in misfortune as in
prosperity, health, or illness.
"She ought to rise early in the morning, honour the gods, keep
her house clean, supply the sacred fire of the home.
"Devotion to her lord is the honour of wife, her eternal heaven"
HINDU VILLAGES WOMEN OF INDIA 223
The "Laws of Manu'^add:
"A wife ought always to be in a good humour, to conduct
with skill the affairs of her household, take great care of
her household utensils, and not be too extravagant in
spending."
Oh 1 women of India and everywhere else, is this not
a beautiful ideal ?
But, some may ask, what about the man, has he been
ftfr&ptten? Has he no duty except that of allowing him-
selto be adored? No, indeed, he has not been forgotten.
Let us read the rules established for his use in the "Laws
ofManu":
"Everywhere where women are honoured, the Divinities are
satisfied; but when they are not honoured, every pious action
becomes sterile.
"His wife and his son are as his own body.
"A man should wear his hair cut, as well as his nails, and
his beard. He should be firm in his austerities, he should
be pure, diligent in studying the Vedas and all that can be
good for him.
"He should guard himself from atheism, hate, hypocriy y
pride, anger, and ill-humour."
What man can boast of having lived in full accordance
with these rules ?
To the ideal of a wife is added that of a Mother. It
even .excels the former.
"Ma% thy M&ber be for thee as a divinity. A mother
surpasses in value a thousand fathers. The man who kisses
the feet of his mother lives in heaven"
The word "Mother" ought to be sacred for a Hindu.
From his infancy, she is often for him a model of abnega-
tion, the first to give way in a useless discussion, the first
also to pardon and establish calm and peace. Was it not
Z24 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
t (
out poet-saint, Tukaram, who said:
"A baby, goes instinctively towards his mother to ask for
her help. The mother knows exactly what he desires and
hastens to him with joyous love. A baby makes no distinc-
tion between a cord and a serpent; he would touch fire. He
knows nothing but he knows his mother"
In the last century, was it not Vivekananda, the great
philosopher-mystic, the disciple of Ramakrishna, who, in
his conferences in the United States, cited his mother as a
model of Hindu women: "It is my mother," he cried, "who
in my life and in my work has been my constant inspira-
By all the ancient leaders of India,those "builders
of Unity, "the woman, the Mother, guardian of the home,
is honoured. And, as rightly said sometime ago a Mussul-
man lady, the Princess 5Jiloufe of Hyderabad:
"I^/ us not, however ; deceive ourselves by thinking that we
have only to teach our village sisters and nothing io learn
from them. Unsophisticated and thus unlike many af us
who suffer from a little education and many comb/exes,
their simplicity has the virtue sand the fascination of toe great
primeval things of life. With them nature still retains its
pristine meaning and the elements, water, air and earth,
their original use and value. Poverty and the caprices of the
seasons have brought to them the dignity of labour, and hard-
ships the fruits of endurance. The produce of the fields,
on which a large part of our stability depends, is as much the
work of their toiling hands as those of men. Their life
does not admit of such luxuries as seclusion; above all,
centuries of association have brought them together, despite
differences of race or religion, in the courtesy of a common
interest. These are some of the lessons which we, who wish
to work for their uplift, their education and the lightening
of their burdens, can well learn from them"
Yes, indeed, the merits of the women of Hindu villages
are great. These mothers and wives are beautiful examples,
HINDU VILLAGES WOMEN OF INDIA 225
|
in truth, for "the high social classes of India/'
Certainly, a great deal remains to be done with regard
to the emancipation of woman in India. If we see today de-
voted Hindu women occupying themselves with social
service in the towns as in the villages, there are still very
many women in India who are lowered to the rank of ser-
vants and who are in total darkness with respect to the
great horizons of life.
* The Maharani of a great Hindu State, speaking one day
on tKe role of woman in modern India, rightly said:
"An ideal feminine education* leading to a wider ; freer life
13 difficult / realise. It must be one that will prepare its
pupUsfor all human duties those of the household* as mo-
ther* daughter* wife* and those of the State as useful members
of the community. It must bt practical as well as theore-
tical* physiological as well as psychological"
fii India, as elsewhere, so many formidable problems
remain to be solved. The homes of India need air, above
all in the poor classes of society. The many, patient sacri-
fices of the village women ought to have their reward. In
the meantime, we can murmur this sweet prayer from the
Ramayana:
"Make me a spouse like Sita ;
Give me a husband like Rama"
We have seen the coming of the dawn in the villages,
we have assisted at the villagers' daily life, as well as at their
ffctes, we*have visited the poor dwellings and contemplated
for an instant the ideal home. It remains for us now to
consider the most moving hour of all: the evening hour
when everything, people, animals, things, assume a special
aspect.
How shall we describe this aspect of the routes of India
in the evening, between the hours of five and seven ?
'5
2X6 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
* t
Let us take some different village scenes. In the cen-
tre of the village is a beautiful templej Vishnuist or Shivaist,
with an ancieiit gopuram. Before the temple extends the
great sacred tank with steps of stone leading down to its
tranquil water. On these steps, used by generations of
beings, women in their saris are bathing, the wet ddth al-
lowing their sculptural forms to be seen. Their long, black
hair is spangled with drops of glistening water. On. the
other side of the tank, the temple's sacred elephant is calm-
ly entering the ripples for his twilight bath.
Near the temple, under the pipal trees (fig trees 'with
heavy branches), some children are playing. Strolling
along a path across the rice fields are some young,
laughing girls, taking their evening walk, spfays of jasmine
twined in their black hair.
The herds come plodding along the village tracks,
peacefully and joyously returning to their stables which
smell sweet of newly-mown hay from the great plains.
From within the temple, a bell announces an offering to
the divinity, devotion propitious to the evening meditation.
Then the stirring hour comes. First, the gopuram
announces it. Its red stones glow in the rays of the setting
sun; then, the whole temple is illumined, the serene waters
of the tank reflect the sky's purple salute to the .earth;
the thatched roofs of houses, beasts, people, a*e all aureoleH
by a fairy light so intense that it makes everything seem
unreal. Then, from the magic palette all is suddenly trans-
formed, red is changed to an incomparable orange-yellow
light.
Nature has donned her mystic robe, her robe of prayer,
the one which Gautama the Buddha wore during his long
wanderings across the land of India. Everything is flooded
in this light. It lusters the tiniest blades of grass, and glows
over a little girl standing naked in the middle of a shady
pond, with ner hair falling on her neck, picking lotus
among iridescent dragon-flies for an offering to the goddess
Lakshmi.
HINDU VILLAGES WOMEN OF INDIA 22J
J
Together with this orange-yellow aureole descends an
infinite peace. The birds sing their evening hymn. From
the warm earth rises the sweet fragrance OT jasmine.
Night falls. Under the great palms, the little lights
of tfce ba2aar shed their smoky brightness, while the lights
of heaven sparkle in all their magic brilliance. In the
humble dwellings, the mother rocks her baby in the eternal'
gesture. While the gods watch in the fragrant Indian night,,
all grows hushed, aff falls asleep in the mystic atmosphere
CHAPTER XXIV
FROM THE TAIL OF A MONKEY TO
THE TUMULT OF THE OCEAN
THE repairs to our car are finished. We bid farewdl
to kind and hospitable Major L. and his wife, tour
compatriot. *
At a very early hour, we set out via Nasik for Bom-
bay. We stop on the way at Aurangabad to* visit the dxact,
but smaller, reproduction of the Taj Mahal. At Agra, the
famous "poem in marble" was erected by Shah Jehan to
the memory of his beloved* Mumtaz-Mahal. At Auranga-
bad, the little Taj Mahal was erected by Aurangzeb to his
mother. Unfortunately, we have no time to visit* the
caves in the town.
We again follow the route leading to Ellora, as it is
also the way to Nasik. A pale sun peeps out from behind
the clouds from time to time, but the sky looks threaten-
ing. A last look at the fortress of Daulatabad and its
neighbour the minaret; then, after climbing the 'steep
gbats, we put on speed as we have to make along stage.
The caves of Ellora appear before us again. We
stop for a moment to look at them, cloistered in their im-
pressive solitude. Then, redescendling toward^ the plain,
we cross the pretty village of Ellora. It is a place
full of poetry. Perched on a tiny hill "in the shade of
beautiful tall trees is a little Shivaist temple, witli a vast
staircase descending to a brook singing as it winds along
beneath a tangle of green . Two Hindu women are washing
their saris in its crystal water. A joyous concert of birds
fills the air with sound.
As we leave the State of Hyderabad to enter the Presi-
dency of Bombay, everything becomes Hindu again. No
THE TAIL OF A MONKEY 22$
more fez, nor little blouses, nor horsemen, but saris,
dhotis, the^ign of Vishnu or Shiva on the forehead, and all
the familiar sights. On the road, we photograph a group
of unhappy little children, led by an old man. They are
quite naked and look very poor.
*At noon, we take a hasty lunch in a village. The
weather becomes worse and worse and we start off again
under a heavy showef . The road is worn away by the
monsoon torrents which for hours beat down on our
biave car. Waves of mud rise to assault the bonnet and veil
, theJ windows. Even the wind-screen wiper is broken.
^Jte make it function with some cord as well as we can
in the storm whose force throws us to one side of the
roaci. The ^frees are bent under the great blasts of
wind. Sun ! Sun ! Surya 1 Where are you ?
Five o'clock. In a moment of calm, we arrive at
Nasik. We shall spend the nf^ht at this last halt oh our
long journey before arriving at Bombay, in order that
we*may have time to visit the town, so celebrated for
its pilgrimages. As at Rameshwaram, the figure of Rama,
tfie hero of the JLamayana predominates at Nasik. It is
a very holy city and one of the most ancient towns of
India.
Nasik takes its name from the Sanskrit word, Nasika,
^which signifies nose. A legend narrates that it is in this
Very place that Lakshmana, the younger brother of Rama,
cut off the giant Sarpnaka's nose. Sarpnaka was the sister
of Ravana the demon who carried away Sita, Rama's
sweet spouse. There is yet another legend which says
thai the temples of Nasik, and they are numerous, were
all built from the ashes of the tail of Hanuman the good,
brave Aonkey-god whose astonishing deeds of bravery
in defence of Rama and Sita are recounted in the Rawayana.
This is one reason why the monkey is considered sacred
in India. There are also other reasons, very profound
ones, for treating this quadrumane with respect, above
all the anthropoides, for according to the teaching of Hindu
philosophy, it is not man who descends from the monkey
230 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
I
but the monkey who originally came from man by mon-
strous crossings. However, that is*another story which
would make the bones of the late Mr. Darwin turn pale.
To come back to the legend, Hanuman, fleeing from
Lanka in Ceylon where the demon Havana had covered our
brave hero's tail with an inflammable product which caught
fire, leaped into space and in one jump reached Nasik,
his country. There, alas ! the monkey-god's worthy
ornament fell into ashes, and in each spot where these
ashes fell on the soil a temple sprang up ....
What a picturesque story ! But the real cause of*the
town's sanctity, without doubt, is Rama's presence. One
is shown the place on the brink of the river that flows
through the city where he bathed. It is trile that the"tem-
ples are very numerous, they are everywhere, in the streets,
in the lanes, even on the rocks that emerge from the river.
All of them have their special legend. The most beauti-
ful of these temples is the one standing in the centre of the
city. There are also many caves in the country neighbour-
ing the town, but alas ! we cannot for want of time visit
them.
. . . .The last stage of our journey is coming to an end.
Starting from Nasik very early this morning, we are^now^
in view of Bombay. A hot, violent wind penetrates the
car. Happily, this monsoon gale chases away the clouds
and allows the sun to smile tor an instant over the great
town's suburbs. But what is that tumult ? The Indian
Ocean which has broken bounds. At a turning in the read,
we see its enormous waves curling over the beach and hurl-
ing clouds of spray over the road. Bombay. The Sea !
Going back to the West. The end of the prodigious
voyage,
We are silent. Our eyes are filling with the last scenes.
Over the sea, the Island of Elephanta is fringed with
seething foam. We should have liked to visit these famous
caves but the furious ocean bars our way. Malabar Hill
THE TAIL OF A MONKEY 231
appears on its headland jutting out into the bay. Here are
the bungak>ws, the palaces, the hanging gardens, and lastly
the Mussulman palace, our one-night refuger, where the only
sound is the eternal voice of the sea.
Evening in my large room. I listen to the great
booms of the ocean. The wind is blowing a gale.
. Tomorrow, the inevitable departure. The luggage,
still covered with the red dust of India's routes, stands ready
in, the middle of the room. We were unable to go on the
day fixed by our timetable, as the ship that we intended to
take had been thrown on to the coast of China by a typhoon
and was unable to sail. So we are obliged to travel on a
slower boat^feaking about three weeks to reach Marseille.
It is a beautiful liner, however, and we have a spacious deck
cabin. Nevertheless, the pounding waves of the Indian
Ocean will buffet it mercilessly and then it is the
Season of cyclones. No matter 1 Tomorrow, we shall
leave C, our dear companion, who made our wonderful
dream come true. As on our arrival, our necks will be
dhtwined with garlands of jasmine and roses, like those
which are laid in the temples at the feet of Shiva, Lakshmi,
Ganesha.. . .
On this eve of our departure, souvenirs come throng-
,ingback. They form a procession which will accompany
us far away* over the ocean to the land of France, like an
unfading fragrance: the Fragrance of India.
CHAPTER XXV
THE SACRED ROUTES
FROM the deck of the ship speeding us away
towards Europe already vibrating under t f he
tramp of marching armies, we watch the land'o'f
India receding little by little into the distance. '
The ghats, the islands, Malabar Hill, gradually obscure
in the grey mist and disappear from sight Ended the
great pilgrimage ! Ended the radiant voyage !
On the horizon, there is nothing now but the Arabian
Sea on whose roaring, heaving surge our good ship is
rolling. Evening comes and the lights on board shine
out over the crested waves. We hide ourselves in a cocner
of the deck sheltered from the wind in order to think, to
exchange impressions with her whose picture will nevfer
fade away.
India 1 Is it possible to believe that the Mother
will no more lift up her voice in the world, that her wisdom
will>no more enlighten the peoples who are physically, and^
morally hungry ? We cannot believe it. Ifc India as a*
living soul were to disappear, the entire world would be
plunged into still deeper darkness. But that is impossible.
The ancient splendour and glory of Greece, of Egypt, and
Chaldea, are buried beneath the sands of deserts and obli-
vion. Among the heroic civilisations, India, as the ancient
and vigilant guardian of all true civilisation, must stnd ever
at her post.
Her soil, it is true, has suffered the violence of bar-
barous invasions. And what invasions 1 Greeks, Mus-
sulmans, Huns, Mongols, all these hordes have in turn un-
furled in gigantic waves over the plains of Hindustan,
striking and shaking the foundations of this immense em-
THE SACRED ROUTES 2JJ,
I
pite, vast as Europe, Russia excepted, and peopled with
nearly 4<x>%millions of beings. Epic struggles, merciless
massacres, sometimes even presaging the tetal colkpse of
the Empire. But neither the carnage nor the battle cries of
Attila's horsemen, the armies of Alexander, nor those of
the Mogul emperors, could beat down India's passive
resistance. Through all these vicissitudes, her soul has
remained alive. We say expressly her soul, that of long ago.
"So/* some will say, "all is then perfect in India." No,
indeed, all is not perfect. India, as every other nation,
.has her weaknesses. She has also committed grave errors,
it ^ould be futile to deny it. Moreover, there is her great
poverty amid her natural riches.
Bi writing these pages, our role has not been to describe
what others have already related. Our aim has been to
spread the fragrance of India, to make this wonderful
fragrance breathed, her Spiritual Fragrance, ancient and
immortal. It is the most beautiful gift that she could offer
to uf.
For this offering, we must love her. But to love India,
it fs necessary to go to her, to understand her. One must
commence, as we have already said at the beginning
of this work, by freeing ourselves of those false concep-
tions which make us see her through the eyes of charlatan
yogis* whose only sanctity is that which we ourselves attri-
bute to them. "Magic I" "Mysterious India I" "Fas-
cinating India !" So many awkward epithets which mask
the real India. Certain travellers, thirsting for the marvel-
lous, imagine that on disembarking on the quay of Bombay
or Colombo, they have the right to share the secrets of
some mysterious Brahman, or that on account of their good
looks, a Mahatma, a real one with flesh and bones, a great
sage, is going to lead them away to an ashram, a nearly
inaccessible retreat, in order to make of them no more or
less than "initiates." Moreover, when they come back to the
West, these seekers for spiritual treasure, these hunters after
mysterious personages, assume grave, solemn airs, saying:
"I knew a Mahatma." These attitudes, in reality, only
2)4 THB FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
(
hide their disappointment at not having met such beings,
or for not having themselves been? able to ptay the role
of a Mahatma* this word signifying Great Soul.
It is indeed so. One goes to India as one goes, when
in Paris, to the Chatclet theatre. One wishes to see a fairy
story, some "tricks," a tree which grows in five minutes, <
watch in hand, phantoms which pass like the bree2e over a,
moon-lit field, one wants to have a little thrill, and above
all, oh ! above all, to have the air, as we said, of being
wrapped in a sumptuous mantle of mystery. Mystery I
Mystery ! We ourselves are one but we do not seem to-
have the least idea of that. In fact, the mystery of \>ur
being does not interest us. Or, it makes us afraid with
good reason. To discover the mystery tohich we* carry
within us needs courage, intrepidity, and we do not possess
them, even when there is question of getting rid of the
immondices which lie at oui door.
Then, some will sigh, with a touch of melancholy, if
India is no longer thrilling, if India is no longer mystefious,
where to go now ?
Let us reassure these anxious ones. There is mystery
in India. That is a sure fact. Even in the time of Cyrus
and Alexander, or during the first Chinese dynasties, the
reports of travellers or of the conquerors were filled with
anecdotes about the "marvels" performed by certain mqp
in the fabulous country of Hindustan. So the attributing
of mystery to India reaches to the highest antiquity. But
the true mystery is not generally what one thinks it is. The
tricks of fakirs, the occult powers, are after all but a
very small part of mystery, doubtless the most attractive
side for many persons, but certainly the most deceiving, the
most dangerous, and the one which masks, let\is repeat
it, the real India.
The true mystery of India resides in her Hidden Wis-
dom.
If India by her immortal genius has contributed more
than any other nation to the progress of the world, if during
.milleniums her light has radiated over humanity, if she has
THE SACRED ROUTES 235
crossed with impunity through violent tempests of iron and
fire, it is thanks precisely to her Hidden Wisdom, this
armour forged from the male energy of Trftth, forged by
Nature herself. This wisdom is beyond time and the terrible
greed of men, this formidable greed, sometimes uncon-
* scious but generally conscious, which makes even the most
.sacred ideas serve personal ends. It is beyond time and
men, because Truth is the hidden energy, the hidden heat,
the hidden light of Nature, It can be veiled, distorted by
mefl, but sooner or later it will reappear, always true to it-
self : in its sparkling noumenal beauty.
* The powers of Man and of Nature are one. Should
man discover in himself these powers, he will discover
Natute. She^ill reveal her secrets to him. In the words
of an old book of Asia: "She will open wide before thee
the portals of her secret chambers, lay bare before thy
gaze the treasures hidden in the very depths of her pure
virgin bosom." Then the being in us will see the goal
towards which gravitate the Cosmos and all creatures,
"the goal/* says the same work, "beyond which lie, bathed
in*the sunlight of the Spirit, glories untold, unseen by any
save the eye of Soul/'*
That is the mystery of India. There resides her real
magic.
Ehiring the revolving ages, India's Great Sons haftre
built up her* hidden Unity. They have taught but one
Truth: "the accumulated wisdom of the ages. It is this
wisdom that has inspired all culture worthy of the name.
If Greek culture has influenced Western civilisation, we
irtus* not forget that, in spite of the inestimable benefits
of Greece to India, the ancient Greeks themselves were
also sonof Hindu thought. As has already been mention-
ed in a preceding chapter, Pythagoras went to India in order
to draw from the very source the principles which consti-
tuted the foundation of his doctrine and which in its turn
*Tbt Book of the Golden Pnapts most of these precepts are trans-
lated from Tibetan.
236 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
1
influenced Plato, Socrates, and even Aristotle to a certain
degree. Apollonius of Tyanae, Plotin, did tiaey not fol-
low in the footprints of their predecessors, in directing
themselves towards far-off India ? China, Persia, Islam
the three-fourths of Asia these civilisations which had
already been influenced by the missions of Asoka, werfe they ,
not attracted by India's wisdom ? That is the reason why
ancient India is our Mother. In the measure that we West-'
emers make our intellectual and spiritual genealogy reach
back to India shall we learn to love her and to consider 4n
its true light her wisdom, the patrimony of every mad.
Listen well. In order to understand and adopt*the
genius of India, does not mean to lessen the marvellous
intellectual and spiritual values of the West. East and
West ought to understand each other. The West has
need of India. India equally has need of the West,
of the best that it has In its civilisation. It is not a
question of India imitating the West. She must remain
herself, at the same time borrowing from the West certain
of her intellectual, artistic, and even spiritual values, as
well as the methods capable of bringing her more well-
being and of lessening her misery and poverty. Modern
Hindus ought to remain faithful to the teachings of their
Mother, on condition that these teachings be cleansed of
superstition and error. It is to this task that long ago men
such as Mohan Roy, Dayanand Saras vati Swami, Rama-
krishna, Viyekananda, and others consecrated themselves.
To India then can be applied the magnificent phrase
of Michelet when he cried:
"TAere are peoples who are necessary"
Yes, it is true. There are peoples who are Accessary.
India is necessary to the world. At present, the black
forces of hate, brutality, hypocrisy, egoism, superstition,
prostitution, and alcohol, ravage the earth. Nevertheless,
above these human cyclones stand Ideal Figures who are
as many sacred routes for humanity. Krishna, Buddha,
Jesus, Sankaracharya, Confucius, Zoroaster, Moses, Maho-
THE SACRED ROUTES 237
met, Pythagoras, Plato , all in their purest teachings
point out the Glowing Landmarks on the sacred routes
of Truth, Nobility, Brotherhood, Peace. *
Who will follow them ?
The World of Tomorrow will be what we want it to
be. \f we desire above all things true knowledge, the
.knowledge which brings liberty and peace, not slavery
and- dictatorship, either fascist or nazi, then let us not
neglect the sublime teachings of the Guardians of the
Sacted Routes. May all beings open their soul to the reali-
ties 6f life, to the fundamental laws of the universe. Above
all, f may they not close their soul. This would be too grave.
There would be no longer a beacon, there would be no
more'a route,*fliere would be but the darkness and chaos
of barbarism.
If, on the other hand, we li our eyes without ceasing
towards the world of light where dwell for ever the
Guardians of humanity, its true Educators, then we shall
be aSle to say with the great Bergson:
"The great moral figures who are engraved in history take one
another 9 s hands across the centuries, above our human cities:
together they compose a divine city that they invite us to
enter."*
The jungle of India still echoes with the songs C>f
Vedic hymns,* those that were sung from the very dawn of
the Aryan civilisation; the divine melodies of Shri Krishna's
flute are still vibrating in the discourses of the Gita; the
philosophy of Sankara still inspires the lives of multitudes
of btings; while in Ceylon, Nepal, Tibet, the sublime
figure of^the Bvfddha stands out and indicates to us the
way of peace. The great Sages raise aloft their glowing
torches, flooding with their sacred radiance the ,*""" :
which lead towards them, the Masters of ~ "" ' "^
These routes, after all, are but one: the
that lifts a man above himself and makes of h^b^^
* H. Bergson Les Sources de la Moral* et dt
, a x
la $M3&P**
2)8 THE FRAGRANCE OF INDIA
f
To inhale the fragrance of India is to enter the atmos-
phere of these Great Beings, to enter the mt&ic of their
presence. Thfe discovery of this magic renders all men
brothers in the purest of democracies.
During last century, one of these Sages wrote from the
snowy mountains of the Himalayas: ' .
"There was a time, when from sea to sea, from the moun-*
tains and deserts of the North to the grand woods and downs
of Ceylon, there was but one faith, one rallying cry to save
humanity from the miseries of ignorance in the name 'of
Him who taught first the solidarity of all men. How Is it
now ?"
The question arises again at the present *kour. Gin we
answer it ?
In the depth of every being, there echoes the soul's
cry demanding to realise itself, to project on to the exterior
screen of life what it is in reality, in the full liberty 'of
its consciousness. This human soul does not want *o be
a slave, it does not want to have its voice stifled by foreign
hands. For this cry is the burning aspiration of its most
intimate and sacred being the aspiration of all peoples
towards a sure happiness, towards the fragrant shores of
peace and liberty.
* From ancient India there comes the eternal call, still
resounding in our overturned world like a sonorous gong:
"Seek the Great Ones and understand" 1
Such is the call of the Mother to her children. It is for
us to answer by chanting the verse murmured foe mil-
leniums in the temples of India, verse which each morn-
ing in the vigil or our life should be our invdbation:
"LEAD ME FROM THE UNREAL TO THE REAL.
LEAD ME FROM OBSCURITY TO LIGHT.
LEAD ME FROM DEATH TO IMMORTALITY." 8
1 Upanishads.
2
