PASSING OF A SAINT

Taranaki Daily News, 10 February 1934, Page 13 (Supplement)

PASSING OF A SAINT

AN EASTERN ALLEGORY

(By

J. W. Davidson.)

In an isolated, sleepy little independent native State in Hindustan, early one morning, a man from the wilderness waded an inconsiderable shallow river and took his way toward the Shahr, or city. The man was in deep mourning—that is to say, his head was covered with ashes and his body with clay—but he also wore a meagre scrap of blanket for loincloth, a string of vegetable beads round his neck, and an amulet.

Presently one met him and queried the cause of his mourning. “Devi Das (Saint Devi) is dead,” he answered. “Are-e !” said the other, and told the next person he met that Devi Das was dead. Later the mourner reached the city and sat at the threshold of a retail grocer, or “Banyah.” The Banyah’s monkey slid down a' supporting post from the chappar, or roof, ,and in a couple pf leaps placed himself beside the mourner, inspected him, and scratched a little of the mud off his thigh. But the mourner took no notice at all, so the monkey climbed to the roof again and presently returned with the remains of a stolen chuppati (cake of unleavened bread), which he proffered to the unhappy man, but the latter, being immovable—in a very trance of sorrow—the monkey made himself sociable between the man’s legs and, in a very friendly, companionable manner, began to look for ectoparasites in his loincloth. The tame monkey of an Indian Banyah is an eminently sociable, if rather inquisitive, creature. Every Banyah keeps a tame monkey, which is the sign of his trade; it attracts the attention of passers-by, it’s his advertisement —he needs no other to set forth his name, occupation and the legend that his groceries are better and cheaper than those of every other retail grocer—the monkey insinuates all that, like every other Banyah’s monkey. In a while the Banyah’s wife came out and immediately . “Wherefore mouimest thou?” said she to the stranger. “Devi Das is dead,” said he. “Are Dada re-e-e !” said the good wife, and went in and told her husband. The husband came out and the. family straightway went into mourning and closed the shop.

By this time some people had gathered about the place and they, likewise, received- the sad intelligence. - Now the announcement that Devi Das was dead affected them all mightily as a very solemn calamity, for they were an intensely religious people and full of faith. By mid-day the whole city was in mourning, the- inhabitants all suitably arrayed in ashes and mud or clay and little else, the shops all closed and no business doing.

Tidings so stupendous soon reached the palace of the Rajah (Sovereign)—a very correct ruler, anxious, on all occasions, to do the right popular thing—and the Court went into drowsy mourning, the fact being advertised by the sounding of a great gong in the tower of the Royal palace. Still the sad news travelled apace till it reached the neighbouring city, which also went into mourning. The Daroga, or head of Police, of that city, however, ventured to point out to the Rajah’s chief local representative, the collector of revenue, that it would be a good thing to obtain some relics of the departed Das (or saint), for His Highness’ shrine, relics such as his beads, tota (water pot), amulet, etc; also, to ascertain the history of the saint in question in order that the same might be - perpetuated, as this holy Sadhoo was as yet unknown to them. The Rajah’s representative accordingly sent his officer with a respectful message to His Highness soliciting the desired information. This caused the Rajah and his Prime Minister to wake up and send the Subadar of the Guard to the city to find out all about Devi Das.

Prophets and holy men (Sadhoos or Dases) accepted “per credendum” and pointing “per aspera ad astra,” were excessively venerated in this particular State, owing probably to their paucity. They had the freedom of the cities and villages and were received with honour at the Rajah’s palace, though they lived like hermits, no one knew where, went about almost naked and appeared and disappeared suddenly. Arrived in the city, the Rajah’s messengers went “in and out and round about,” but, while everybody was lamenting the death of Devi Das, no one appeared to have any actual personal acquaintance with him, though all were persuaded that he must have been a perfect saint—how, indeed, could it be otherwise ? But the Rajah grew impatient for full information concerning this so honoured and lamented saint, and His Highness sent forth various officers in quest of details and relics. In the course of diligent inquiry at length the particular Banyah happened to be interrogated; then was found the man who had been the first to meet with the first mourner, and from him was ascertained the direction from which the mourner had come. The river was crossed and finally, in an isolated hut, was found one Govin Dhobi, the original mourner, the man of ashes and clay, an eccentric, lone man —a Dhobi, or washerman, by caste, but of no visible occupation. Govin Dhobi acknowledged that he had been the first to mention the fact of the death of Devi Das? as he was the first to know of it. “Where be his ashes and relics ? Did’st dare of thy-self to cremate him ?” “Gareebparwar (cherisher of the poor), he lieth a mile hence, on the river bank.”

“Lead us to the spot.” Govin Dhobi, as became- his inferior caste, trotted respectfully some paces ahead of the Rajah’s officers, and they held no discourse on the way. On a strip of sand in a hollow part of the river-bank lay what the aasvogels, voles and jackals had left of Devi Das. The Rajah’s officers stared in dumb surprise. , “Wretch I” said the Subadar at last, is this Devi Das ?” “Gareebparwar,” said Govin Dhobi, with tears in his eyes, “it was, but behold what remaineth of my brother.” Having beheld, the Rajah’s officers returned to the palace to report that Devi Das was the name of a washerman’s ass and that the washerman, to wit, Govin Dhobi, and his ass had dwelt together in the wilderness, like brothers. So the Court promptly went out of mourning and into rosewater baths and raiments of purple and fine linen, and the Rajah, further to relieve his feelings, sent for his nautch girls to dance and “shimmy” before him; and the Rani (Queen) and all the ladies and gentle-men-in-waiting, the whole Court, in fact, waxed exceedingly gay. Govin Dhobi was never seen or heard of again, but whether the Rajah had anything to do with his disappearance nobody troubled to inquire. All which things are an allegory from the East.