Annals and Antiquities of Rajasthan, or the Central and Western Rajput States of India v3.c43.t1.269

v3.c43.t1.269

Cholera.—The Raja fell a victim to Mari, the emphatic appellation of cholera, which has now been wasting these regions since 1817. They might well say that, if at this important [688] period in their history we destroyed the demon of rapine which had so long preyed upon their repose, we had in lieu of it introduced death amongst them, for such is the interpretation of Mari.¹ It was in our armies that this disease first appeared in northern India; and although for some time we flattered ourselves that it was only the intemperate, the ill-fed, or ill-clothed, that fell victims to it, we soon discovered that Mari was no respecter of persons, and that the prince and the peasant, the European and the native, the robust and the weak, the well-fed and the abstinent, were alike subject to her influence. I can number four intimate friends, my brother officers, who were snatched away in the very prime of life by this disease; and in the States under my political control, it assailed in two instances, the palace: the Udaipur prince recovered, but the Bundi Rao's time was come. He conducted himself most heroically, and in the midst of the most dreadful torture with which the human frame can be afflicted, he never lost his self-possession, but in every interval of suffering, conversed upon the affairs of his little dominion, giving the fullest instructions for the future with composure. He particularly desired that none of his wives should mount the pyre with his corpse; and that as soon as he ceased to breathe, I should be invited to Bundi; for that " he left Lalji (an endearing epithet to children) in my lap." It was only during our last journey through Bundi that I was amused with my friend's expedient to keep " death " out of his capital, and which I omitted to mention, as likewise the old regent's mode of getting rid of this unwelcome visitor in Kotah; nor should they be separated. Having assembled the Brahmans, astrologers, and those versed in incantations, a grand rite was got up, sacrifice made, and a solemn decree of *desvata*, or banishment, was pronounced against Mari. Accordingly an equipage was prepared for her, decorated with funeral emblems, painted black and drawn by a double team of black oxen; bags of grain, also black, were put into the vehicle, that the lady might not go forth without food, and driven by a man in sable vestments, followed by the yells of the populace. Mari was deported across the Chambal, with the commands of the priests that she should never set foot again in Kotah.¹ No sooner did my deceased friend hear of her expulsion from that capital, and being placed *en chemin* for Bundi, than the wise men of this city were called on to provide means to keep her from entering therein. Accordingly, all the water of the Ganges at hand was in requisition, an earthen vessel was placed over the southern portal, from which the sacred water was continually dripping, and [689] against which no evil could prevail. Whether my friend's supply of the holy water failed, or Mari disregarded such opposition, she reached his palace.²