Manners and customs -- Fiction; Short stories, English
The Bull crouched beside the shrine, and there leaped from the
darkness a monstrous grey Ape, who seated himself man-wise in
the place of the fallen image, and the rain spilled like jewels
from the hair of his neck and shoulders.Other shadows came and
went behind the circle, among them a drunken Man flourishing
staff and drinking-bottle. Then a hoarse bellow broke out from
near the ground. "The flood lessens even now," it cried. "Hour
by hour the water falls, and their bridge still stands!"
"My bridge," said Findlayson to himself "That must be very old
work now. What have the Gods to do with my bridge?"
His eyes rolled in the darkness following the roar. A Mugger -
the blunt-nosed, ford-haunting Mugger of the Ganges -draggled
herself before the beasts, lashing furiously to right and left
with her tail.
"They have made it too strong for me. In all this night I have
only torn away a handful of planks. The walls stand. The towers
stand. They have chained my flood, and the river is not free any
more. Heavenly Ones, take this yoke away! Give me clear water
between bank and bank! It is I, Mother Gunga, that speak. The
Justice of the Gods! Deal me the Justice of the Gods!"
"What said I?" whispered Peroo. "This is in truth a Punchayet of
the Gods. Now we know that all the world is dead, save you and
I, Sahib."
The Parrot screamed and fluttered again, and the Tigress, her
ears flat to her head, snarled wickedly.
Somewhere in the shadow, a great trunk and gleaming tusks swayed
to and fro, and a low gurgle broke the silence that followed on
the snarl.
"We be here," said a deep voice, "the Great Ones. One only and
very many. Shiv, my father, is here, with Indra. Kali has
spoken already. Hanuman listens also."
"Kashi is without her Kotwal to-night," shouted the Man with the
drinking-bottle, flinging his staff to the ground, while the
island rang to the baying of hounds. "Give her the Justice of
the Gods."
"Ye were still when they polluted my waters," the great Crocodile
bellowed. "Ye made no sign when my river was trapped between the
walls. I had no help save my own strength, and that failed - the
strength of Mother Gunga failed - before their guard-towers.
What
could I do? I have done everything. Finish now, Heavenly
Ones!"
"I brought the death; I rode the spotted sick-ness from hut to
hut of their workmen, and yet they would not cease." A
nose-slitten, hide-worn Ass, lame, scissor-legged, and galled,
limped forward. "I cast the death at them out of my nostrils,
but they would not cease."
Peroo would have moved, but the opium lay heavy upon him.
." Bah!" he said, spitting. "Here is Sitala herself; Mata - the
small-pox. Has the Sahib a handkerchief to put over his face?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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