Legendary & romantic tales of Indian historyCaunter, Hobart
History
Legendary & romantic tales of Indian history
Caunter, Hobart
India -- History -- Fiction
Having paid her devotions, the supplicant approached the base of the
idol, and laid a handful of gold upon it; for her husband was wealthy,
and the god of Somnat never heard a vow that was not accompanied by an
offering. She prayed that her husband might be spared to her; or, if
the slender thread of his destiny was already spun, that his soul might
be transferred into a nobler body, and be thus advanced one step nearer
to that final and beatific state of absorption so anxiously desired by
all faithful Hindoos. As she concluded, there was a strange unearthly
sound heard from within the image; the eyes seemed to glow with more
intense brightness, and when she rose from her posture of prostration,
to her surprise the aged Brahmin who had lately visited her husband
stood before her. She looked upon him, however, without apprehension,
feeling herself in the presence of an omnipotent agent, and not
entertaining a thought, in the innocence of her pure heart, that the
altar of deity could be polluted by the most licentious impurities.
“The divinity is propitiated,” said the sanctified impostor. “Your
prayers have been heard, and you are favoured with the especial notice
of one, in whose term of life the Maha Yug[3] is no more than a single
instant, by comparison with this earth’s duration. Prepare to meet the
god at midnight.”
“You mock me. Does the deity condescend to become incarnate, and reveal
himself in a mortal body to his worshippers?”
“Yes: where it is his will to favour those whose homage he approves,
he reveals himself to them in the likeness of his creatures, generally
assuming the form of some devout priest, whose ministrations he
especially approves, and thus signifies his approval. You will see
him this night, under the similitude of a favourite Brahmin. He has
determined to grant your supplications.”
She was astonished at this communication. The reverence in which she
had been accustomed to hold the character of the priesthood--the wild
solemnity of the scene around her--the dazzling light that seemed
supernaturally to float over the ponderous image--the excitement
under which she laboured, from her anxiety for her husband’s welfare
and the issue of her appeal--the promise that her supplications had
been favourably heard--all tended to throw her into such a tumult
of agitation, that she became bewildered; and, under the impulse of
superstitious enthusiasm, consented to meet the god at midnight.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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