India -- History -- 1000-1526 -- Fiction; Man-woman relationships -- Fiction; Reincarnation -- Fiction
He remained standing here for a long time, regaining command of
himself, and, afterward, attracted by the spectacle before him. The
wood on the altar had been lighted, and a hot, wavering flame leaped
high in the centre of the garland-strewn multitude. Into this fire went
the contents of the jars that had stood at the base of the altar:—four
of fine, ground meal, four of ghee, and four of strained honey. From
this sacrificial mess arose a thick smoke; but the odor that came from
it was, surprisingly enough, decidedly agreeable; for the meal and
butter had been so skilfully treated with aromatics that the natural
smell of burning vegetable and grease had been overcome. The sacrifice
was of course accompanied by a continuous high and musical chant from
the priests. Chapter after chapter of the Vedas they repeated without
halt or break. Prayers were sent up to every Vedic god: to Vishvakarma,
the all-maker, to Varuna and Mitra, to Agni, to Surya, to Yama, to
the Ashvins, brothers of dawn and twilight, to Rudra, the storm-god,
and Vivasat, the father of death. The sacred cattle were offered to
Prishni, the holy cow of heaven; and, their spirits being accepted
by a sign in the flame, they were led away to resume their duties in
the great temple at the other end of the plateau. Finally, at the
conclusion of the ceremony, the last god was introduced: he who, for
many centuries, had played the great rôle in this ceremonial: Soma,
lord of the moon, and lord of drunkennesses, whose name is that of the
plant from which the powerful, sacred liquor is distilled. And at the
first pronouncing of this name, the sacrifice was interrupted by the
arrival of fifty slaves, who made their appearance from the great hall,
bearing on their heads jars of the liquid to be quaffed to the great
ones above. They were greeted by a long, loud murmur of anticipatory
joy, such as no lavish display of meal or cattle could ever call forth
from the crowd. And now at last Fidá, too well aware of what was to
follow, turned from the courtyard down the corridor through which he
had passed on the previous night, on his way to Ragunáth’s rooms.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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