Annals and Antiquities of Rajasthan, or the Central and Western Rajput States of India v3.c40.197

v3.c40.197

Diseases.—Of the numerous diseases to which the inhabitants of the desert are subjected, from poor and unwholesome diet, and yet more unwholesome drink, rataundha or night-blindness, the narua or Guinea-worm, and varicose veins, are the most common. The first and last are mostly confined to the poorer classes, and those who are compelled to walk a great deal, when the exertion necessary to extricate the limbs from deep sand, acting as a constant drag upon the elasticity of the fibres, occasions them to become ruptured. Yet such is the force of habit that the natives of Dhat in my service, who had all their lives been plying their limbs as kasids, or carriers of dispatches, between all the cities on the Indus and in Rajputana, complained of the firmer footing of the Indian plains, as more fatiguing than that of their native sandhills. But I never was a convert to the Dhati's reasoning; with all his simplicity of character, even in this was there vanity, for his own swelled veins, which could be compared to nothing but rattans twisted round the calf of his limbs, if they did not belie his assertion, at least proved that he had paid dearly for his pedestrianism in the desert [327]. From the narua, or Guinea-worm, there is no exemption, from the prince to the peasant, and happy is the man who can boast of only one trial. The disease is not confined to the desert and western Rajputana, being far from uncommon in the central States; but beyond the Aravalli the question of "How is your narua?" is almost a general form of greeting, so numerous are the sufferers from this malady. It generally attacks the limbs and the integuments of the joints, when it is excruciating almost past endurance. Whether it arises from animalculae in sand or water, or porous absorption of minute particles imbued with the latent vital principle, the natives are not agreed. But the seat of the disease appears immediately under and adhesive to the skin, on which it at first produces a small speck, which, gradually increasing and swelling, at length reaches a state of inflammation that affects the whole system. The worm then begins to move, and as it attains the degree of vitality apparently necessary for extricating itself, its motions are unceasing, and night and day it gnaws the unhappy patient, who only exists in the hope of daily seeing the head of his enemy pierce the cuticle. This is the moment for action: the skilful *narua*-doctor is sent for, who seizes upon the head of the worm, and winding it round a needle or straw, employs it as a windlass, which is daily set in motion at a certain hour, when they wind out as much line as they can without the risk of breaking it. Unhappy the wretch whom this disaster befalls, when, happening to fall into a feverish slumber, he kicks the windlass, and snaps the living thread, which creates tenfold inflammation and suppuration. On the other hand, if by patience and skill it is extracted entire, he recovers. I should almost imagine, when the patriarch of Uz exclaims, “My flesh is clothed with worms: my skin is broken and become loathsome. When I lie down, I say, when shall I arise and the night be gone?” that he must have been afflicted with the *narua*, than which none of the ills that flesh is heir to can be more agonizing.¹