India -- History -- 1526-1765 -- Fiction; Maratha (Indic people) -- History -- Fiction
"I fear we are wrong, Bulwunt," whispered Fazil, "these must be
Brahmuns with that Jogi."
"I know of no other temple, Meah," returned Bulwunt; "but wait here, I
will go round to the door and question them."
"Be careful, friend; I like not the look of the old Jogi; be careful,"
interrupted Fazil.
"Nay, I am not going to quarrel with him," continued Bulwunt Rao; "but
watch what they do. You will see all their faces if they turn to me."
And with cautious steps he moved in.
The door of the temple was in front. Bulwunt had seen it was partially
opened when they arrived. Fazil heard it creak on its hinges as Bulwunt
opened it, and saw him emerge from behind the basement of the temple;
and amidst a rough cry of "who comes?" "who art thou?" from the three
persons, walk slowly and firmly up to the basement of the verandah, and
make the customary reverential salutation.
"Thou art a bold fellow," exclaimed one of the men covered with a
sheet, who stood up, looking at Bulwunt from head to foot, "to intrude
upon respectable people unbidden. A Gosai, too, whence art thou?"
"I am a poor disciple of Amrut Geer, of Kullianee, if ye know the
town," answered Bulwunt, deferentially; "and they call me Poorungeer.
I have come to the city on business, and have travelled far to-day.
I often put up here, and, as I saw lights, I entered, in the hope
of shelter for the night. It will rain presently, and, with your
permission, I will take a drink of water and rest here."
"There is plenty of water in the well without," returned the man
sulkily; "and there are the iron bucket and cord--take them and begone.
There are a thousand Gosain's Mutts in Beejapoor, why shouldst thou
stay here?--begone!"
"Nay, be not inhospitable, O Bawa!" returned Bulwunt. "I am weary and
footsore; it is a long way to the only Mutt, I know, and it is not safe
for a man alone to pass the plain at night."
"I tell thee begone," said the Jogi; "there is no room for thee here;
begone, else we will turn thee out."
"Direct me, then, to a resting-place, good sirs," replied Bulwunt. "I
would give no offence; I pray ye be not angry." "Nay," he continued,
observing a gesture of impatience; "behold, I am gone. I would not be
unwelcome. Only say, O Jogi, what this temple is called?"
"This is the temple of Toolja Dévi, and dedicated to the Holy Mother
at Tooljapoor," replied the man. "If thou hast need to visit it, come
to-morrow, and thou wilt see the image. Depart now, or these worthy
men may be angry. Thou hast interrupted already a discourse on the
mysteries----"
"Which would have benefited me, Bawa, also. I shall not forget their
inhospitality. Now I depart." And saluting the Jogi, who lifted his
hand to his head, and staring fixedly at the others, whose faces were
plainly visible by the light of the fire, which had blazed up, Bulwunt
Rao left them.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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