Upon an open _maidan_ or plain was assembled an eager crowd of spectators. A large space for the performance of the Ram Lila was kept clear by sepoys, placed as sentries at short intervals. About the centre of this space towered two huge effigies, without legs, probably forty feet high, representing Ravana and Kumbhakarna. Each figure stood with its arms extended right and left, level with the shoulders, in the most absurd of attitudes, resembling the pictures of men which young children are so fond of drawing. Ravana had ten faces,[46] and two arms with twenty hands,[47] while Kumbhakarna had two hands only. There they stood, the terrible demon king of Lanka, and his no less formidable brother, grotesqueness itself. At one side, opposite to and facing the figures, was a painted wooden car--lent by the king of the celestials to Rama on this memorable occasion--standing on small wheels, like a child’s toy, with two wooden horses attached to it. On the car were seated two handsome, bare-legged and bare-footed boys, dressed in yellow satin robes, with bows in their hands. Their hats somewhat resembled a bishop’s mitre in shape, and were made of red and silver materials. These boys, the reader does not need to be told, represented Rama and his brother Lakshmana. In attendance upon them were about thirty men, dressed in dusky red clothes, and with marks on their faces, who personated the army of monkeys that assisted the heroes. To the right of the two huge figures was an inclosed space which stood for the city or citadel of Lanka. Various mythological figures were also to be seen moving about the plain, in a more or less objectless manner. Two tall men, got up as women, went springing about, brandishing naked swords. They represented female Rakshasas. A man dressed up to look very corpulent, clothed in yellow, with long flowing hair and having serpents coiled round his throat, was dragged about upon a wooden bull over the field. This corpulent personage was no other than Mahadeva (_Siva_) on his bull (_Nandi_). Thus far the show was, at least, mythological and _Hindu_. But, by a curious anachronism, the features of a modern fair mixed themselves up with the old-world representation. Perhaps Indian taste in this nineteenth century demanded something more than the undiluted ancient epic. Whatever may have been the cause, I observed, with surprise, that within the inclosure several natives with painted faces personated Europeans of both sexes, to the great amusement of the onlookers. A man in shaggy furs, holding a torn umbrella over his head, and attended by a fellow disguised as a European policeman, was announced to the spectators as the “Nawab of Cabul.” There were also imitation bears with their leaders and such like grotesque shows for the amusement of the populace. Although the vast majority of the spectators were natives, many Europeans were present, some in their carriages, some on elephants, and one or two on camels.