The Emerald Kingdom or The Land of the Gandharvas

THE EMERALD KINGDOM
OR
THE LAND OF THE GANDHARVAS

PROMODE KUMAR CHATTERJEE
(Translated by Gautam Banerjee from the original in Bengali)

(I)

Be it painful or pleasurable, the life of a traveller is wonderful. The experiences that are gained by travelling are numerous and unforgettable. I shall now relate in a short span my most cherished memory of a place in the Himalayas. Very few people, if not none, wrote anything about this remote, sequestered valley. Nobody ventures there crossing the path which is hard to traverse and extremely difficult of going. The tourists go as far as Kedar and
Badrinarayan. Gangotri, Jamunotri and Gomukhi are visited only by a few people. These are the pilgrimages where only the sadhus, the sanyasins and other pilgrims go on foot.

Curious and eager as I was to see the source of Bhagirathy–that is the Ganges–I arrived in Gomukhi. At long last I can see before me the mound-like cave out of which Ganges is pouring herself out. I dipped myself in the holy water. However, upon closer observation little later it dawned on my guide and me that this could not be the origin of the Ganges since the river is very broad here.

My guide violently contended that this is not the origin for that is still higher up.

“There”, he said, “do you see the snow-covered fields gradually rising up to join the snowy mountain? Atop that mountain’s the real source of the Ganges. No human being can ascend up there, for those places are owned by gods. It goes the round that you’ve to cross that region before you can enter heaven. There’s a place in that region, they say, where there’s always a hailstorm and all sorts of perilous obstacles. No human being can go there, but if fortune favours and one can ultimately reach there, then one comes a god.”

There and then I waived the desire of going up there and returning all transformed into a god. But as the confounded Providence would have it, all my plans went amiss in that heavenly place. Standing for a long time near the cave of ice I got excited. I was mad with excitement, a madness that even imperils one’s life. My guide contacted my over-enthusiasm and he was inclined to accompany me, but my heart would not like to share the glory with him. Alone I set out with the assurance that he will be waiting for me for three days.

The cave, as I said, is like a mound and clothed with ice. The right side is steep and plane, and the left side is full of ice-covered rocks that admit foot support. To view the land and see if the source of the Ganges could be spotted, I climbed along the left side. At one point I heard a murmur. I traced the sound and saw through the cracks of ice in one place the flow of the Ganges. In the hope of finding real Gomukhi I picked my way along the purling stream.

Time passed. I have climbed more than two miles of this up slope. I am now panting for breath. I cannot walk any more. Despondency is taking hold of me. There is no trace of the source. I am dying with thirst, and breathing is painful.

I had to return after all. Thinking that I am returning by the same way as I came, I quickened my steps. I am glad to find com that I can now walk easily. Coming to the vast snowy region I hoped to find that cave again beyond it.

But after a while it struck me: the snowy tract that I had crossed was not this vast, and soon it will be evening. There is no time to pause and think.

The sun is hidden behind a misty screen of light and shade. Having been seeing the icy whiteness all around throughout the day, my eyes are heavy and paining. With great anxiety I halted for an all round view of the region to see which way to proceed. I have, obviously, lost my sense of direction in this pathless, uneven and snowy tract.

To my right, a bit far away, I can see a black dot moving. It is the head of a man. Now I can see his body emerging from behind a mound of ice. He is coming in my direction. I see a long stick in his hand.

The turban on his head is of ancient style. His whole body is wrapt in a deep red cloth, and save the features and the hands nothing could be seen. With his moustache ends curved upwards and the golden complexion he looks like an ancient Hindu Aryan.

He now stops to watch something on the ground. Clearing a heap of snow with the stick he crouched down, then picking up something he tucked it in his breast and resumed walking.

He must have noticed me, for he is approaching with his eyes on me. I started walking towards him with mince steps. What a huge figure! About six-and-a-half-feet tall and proportionately broad. Over his shining eyes is a pair of jet black eyebrows and below his Grecian nose is a pair of well-trimmed moustaches. He looks really like an Aryan god.

When he came within earshot I asked how far was Gomukhi and I told him that I was in trouble. If he heard me I could not know. His eyes are again on a heap of ice in front. Quietly he went to the heap and with his stick made a hole there. Thrusting his hand in it he brought out three brown things that looked like eggs. He tucked them in his breast, stood up, and this time gave me a smile while motioning me to walk by his side. He advanced in long but slow strides. There is in his smile such faith, confidence and friendliness that I could not but think he is my intimate friend. It delights me to assume that his apparition is providential.

Now when he saw that I could not hold pace with him, exhausted as I was, he gladly took hold of my hand. Once his mighty and warm hand held my wrist, my body felt a joy and all my physical prostration left me. I walked without any effort.

After walking a long way we have now come to such a beautiful place that I feel as though I am drunk; a pleasant drowsiness is overwhelming me. In the breeze there is a sweet fragrance which I never smelt before; perhaps it is emitted by the beautiful shrubs and creepers that are around.

For some time I was as if unconscious. I found this out when I was suddenly roused. I find now the scene quite changed. There is no more of ice nor whiteness. I am walking down a vast, gradual and even slope. My guide is steadily walking in front. I am free; when he released my hand I could not know. My drowsiness has left me.

(II)

This downward slope is enjoyable, and I would pray to God that there be no upward slope after this. It is not yet dark; in the light that is still there long way off in front is visible. Far away, down below, there seems to be a vast plane abounding in lush green plants and trees. Such enchanting scenery I did not come across before. Seeing–through the greenery of the valley–a tall temple and houses of various colours, I imagine that there is a big town there. I also think we will go there. This slope, which appears nothing less than a mountain in its height and vastness, encircling and thus protecting the big town from all outside influences, is a unique work of Nature.

As though we had flown down the scree, when we barely reached its foot, I could see not far away a stream, quite broad. On this side of it there is not a blade of grass, but the other side is full of trees and plants amidst which I can see a long white line on the ground; I deem it is a road. Six persons are standing on the bank. They are hailing my saviour with their right hands up, though we are still a bit far. When we were closer they turn by turn embraced him. I wonder if they have noticed me, for nobody talked to me.

Bowl-like in form, waist high, able to hold about ten persons, such is the boat left on the river’s border. Holding my hand my friend went in it first. On a soft and thick cushion he sat down and motioned me to sit down also. Then one of those six men got in. He stood at the rim of the boat holding a long stick which he pressed against the bank and thus the boat got started. First it moved slowly then it started flying like an arrow towards the other shore. It did not tilt a bit on any side. When the marvellous craft touched land I saw two men standing who were dressed just like my new acquaintance. Alighting from the boat he first greeted the men in the strange language. They in turn greeted and embraced him. Then signalling me to follow he started walking with them. There was no talking.

Now, after such a long time, it strikes me that here there is neither winter nor summer. I can recollect that while I was walking on the ice no banyan had got wet with perspiration. There was no perspiration while I was descending down the slope.

After walking a short distance we have now come to a portal which has no doors nor any sentry. On its top there is a huge thousand-petalled lotus, and on its two sides stretch thick and high walls. From this gate a path leads–through some beautiful gardens–straight to the temple. We got in.

Instead of going straight towards the temple my guide turned to the right. A few paces away is a huge building–surrounded with a verandah upon a high ground. Ten steps lead to the verandah where I went and sat down, while he entered the nearest room. This room has no doors. There is light inside but what sort of light I cannot make out.

So many thoughts, strange feelings went on within me, when suddenly I heard a melodious female voice behind. I turned my head and...Ah! a statuesque figure stood there illumining the room. As I stood up like an automaton and looked at her questioningly, she smiled and pulled me gently by my hand.

Strange is her dress and beautiful. She has nothing upon her breast, save a few necklaces and garlands. From the waist hung a skirt till the knees. On the upper hands she has ornaments.

She took me inside that room. A bright lamp hangs in a corner; it is not an oil lamp; its light has a blue shade and white rays. Everything in the room could be seen quite clearly. Near by on the floor is a flat wooden seat and before it on a lotus leaf are three pieces of flat bread, and other foods. Taking me straight to the seat, she lifted off my cap and the turban, opened the cumbersome overcoat and went to hang them all on the wall. Returning she relieved me of the rest of the upper garments. She also opened my boots and socks, and left them in a corner, and then she put around me a thin sheet of white cloth. I was dumbfounded; so could not object.

There were surprises here, but wonder of wonders, I was not at all excited when that Venus-like woman caught hold of my hand. That it was not due to my own purity I know very well. We know each of us how pure we are, we cannot really deceive our own mind.

When I sat down to eat, she moved away. The preparation was exquisite, incomparable. All the articles were most probably vegetarian. After the feast I stood up. Immediately the lady came in and, holding my hand, she took me in the verandah. I sat down there on the bed which had been prepared during my meal. Signing me to sleep, she left me.

But the thoughts and feelings of wonder would not leave me. The wonders started since the encounter with that godly person in the snowy region, and they have not yet ended. The exhaustion of the whole day is weighing heavy upon my eyes. When exactly I fell asleep, I do not remember.

(III)

I am awakened in this heavenly kingdom by the sweet notes of a bird. I got up from the bed feeling strong and happy. Following the same path by which I came here yesterday, I went to the river bank. There is not much light yet. The trees that are about me are very tall and, mainly, of two varieties, pine and eucalyptus. Far away I can see hazily two men bathing. I too entered the water. It is ice-cold, bluish and transparent like crystal, and sweet of taste.

After the bath I returned to that verandah sauntering through the beautiful gardens. The bed is not there now, in its place is a wooden seat. Instead of sitting there I went and stood in front of the room in which I took my meal yesterday. I am wondering if I should get in. The room is lighted by the Sun. I can see before me inside the room a long dais upon which many eye-catching articles are neatly arranged. Two of them are specially attracting me, a conch-shell and a metallic box with a conic lid. I have never seen such a conch before; it is two feet long, and thin and pointed towards the mouth. On it there are five pearls. Its colour is bright minimum and its mouth is mounted with gold.

Just below the dais is a long bench set against the wall and covered with a decorated leather piece. On it there are a few utensils of gold. The things inside the room are as though pulling me. Suddenly my eyes caught sight of my divine host and that lady. Laughing they came and stood flanking me, and clasping my hands they spoke to me in their charming language of which I understood one word clearly, “mitra,” or friend. As though they said: dear friend, why are you standing outside? Come inside. They took me in. We went and stood before the dais. The man spoke something to the lady who left us.

Now I see my host, my divine guide, quite different. He is not wearing the turban. His dark hair is flowing down the shoulders. Three gold necklaces, with a locket at the bottom of each, are hanging over the chest. On each of the upper hands there is a gold band studded with gems, and below it is a square amulet. Around the wrists too there are two gold bands. On his wide chest there is a broad leather fillet–wrought with golden figures rolling down from the left shoulder and attached to the cummerbund. As for garment he has only a thick red cloth, full of golden lines, wound round the waist and reaching till the knees. His feet are bare.

As for the lady, her thick black hair is braided and the plaits, decorated with flowers, are hanging down the shoulders. Her gold ear-drops have bright blue gems at their centres. Between the eyes, on the forehead, shines a tiny Moon. She is wearing eight invaluable necklaces. The golden fibres, dropping down from the hem of her bright blue skirt, scintillate as she moves. The gold strings of small bells worn around the ankles adorn her bare feet. No use attempting to describe her divine beauty. She is glorious even as a goddess.

While admiring the quaint articles on the dais I saw on a blue saucer those egg-like things which my host had dug out yesterday from the ice heaps. I thought nothing of picking up one and asking him in Hindi, “What is this?” He smiled a little, and what he said in his own tongue comes down to this: You take it, please do not keep it on the plate. Then with the help of gestures he explained to me that if even a minute portion of that substance is taken with milk then there would be an increase of “ojas,” life force, and the body would not decay. Eating this, man can live a hundred years without the cares of age. Its name is “tushar gothol.”

I enquired, “Do you take it everyday?” Without a word he lifted the lid off a golden bowl. Within it I saw a white powder and a tiny spoon of gold. He picked up one spoonful of that substance and lifting my chin dropped it inside my mouth. Just then my hostess came in with milk in a silver bowl. I drank it and found in it the smell of saffron. Its wonderful taste led me to think that I drank ambrosia. Almost immediately I felt strength and force surging up in me.

On the walls of the room there are different kinds of shields, coats of mail, helmets, scimitar, etc., and hundreds of ornaments. My host while showing me all these, called someone in a deep voice. Immediately in entered none other than my charming hostess, with a radiant countenance. Then he held my hands in a way of bidding goodbye and said something in the sweet language that resembles our Sanskrit. I deem he is going out on work and this lady should be looking after me. When he left the room we too came out in the verandah.

(IV)

We walked down to that portal and struck the path that leads to the temple. This walk way is extremely beautiful. It is about a mile long and terminates at the wide courtyard of the temple. This temple is like the stupa in Sanchi, only taller, and crowned with seven gold jars and on top of the other. From the highest jar, which is the smallest, is protruding a trident.

Each one a foot high, the thirty-two steps that lead to the temple entrance begins from the end of the road. My hostess first showed me round the compound. There are spacious caves very high and amply illumined. They are used, most of them; as store rooms, and some as kitchens in one of which I see about ten herculean cooks busy with their work. The smell of a strange blend of aromatic articles like incense sticks, sandal-wood and saffron has created a joyful atmosphere. It took us about one-and-a-half hours to see the place. Never have I seen a temple with such great extensions. Now we climbed up the steps.

We came first on a square verandah each side of which is about hundred and eighty feet. I do not see many people. From the edge of the verandah the temple door is more than two hundred feet. The architecture of this temple is rather simple; what is most attractive here are the frescoes.

The temple itself is huge. Erected on a circular base, its inside diameter is about hundred feet. There is one entrance and it is doorless. On either side of it there is a big gold jar. The temple hall is pleasantly illumined by a greenish light. The light is not coming in from outside through any hole since there is none. There must be something inside by which the interior is wonderfully lighted. Six steps lead to the square altar before me. Upon the altar, right at the centre, is a small splendid throne made entirely of gold and decked with jewels, and over it there isan ornamented net. And over all this is a big and magnificent baldachin resplendent with bright gems.

My hostess took me up on the altar and we stood before the throne. I am thrilled with the feelings of wonderment. But the greatest thrill was yet to come when I saw on the throne a square base of which each side is a foot long. It is covered with a lustrous yellow cloth. In its centre I see something magnificent, exquisite. It is so dazzling that at first I could not make out anything of it. When I was myself again I discovered a pure diamond statue of Lord Buddha in meditation no larger than the thumb. Behind it is a tree made entirely of emeralds. The hall is illumined by their effulgence.

Dazed as I was for a while I could not make out where I was. The splendours of that emerald tree and the statue have made the temple hall a paradise. From the beginning the lady has been observing my dumbfounded state, now when I turned towards her she smiled indulgingly. I inquired, in Hindi, “What are these”?

What she said, in substance, is this: No one knows how old the emerald tree is, but this is certain that it is not man-made. It was found exactly as you see it inside a mine in the Himalayas. It was for some time with the king of Ratal. The grandfather of Vajra Sena defeated him in a battle and with other jewels he brought along this. Fortune favours him who possesses this priceless object. Thanks to it he conquered this kingdom of Corode or of the Gandharvas–to which you have come, and established this temple. And centring this temple he extended the area of his capital on all sides. Then he declared that thenceforward his kingdom will be called ‘The Emerald Kingdom’. Later someone brought that statue of diamond from Tibet which the then prince of the Gandharvas, Kanaka Vajra, accepted in return of two thousand horses and a lot of gold. Kanaka had left it in the treasury along with other jewels. But when the royal priest, Balakashyapa, saw it he said that that was not the place for this invaluable thing, this temple was the right place. Whereupon the king brought it here and placed it, incidentally, under the emerald tree. So long as these two objects were separate none of them emitted so much light, the moment these two were united, such tremendous light flooded the hall that since then the lamps were not in use.

At the conclusion of this strange history the lady took me still closer to the throne and said, “See, take a good look.”

The emerald tree is about a foot long. From the bottom five branches go upwards and disappear among thick leaves which spread to form an umberlla-like shade. The rubies, stuck admirably on the branches at intervals, are engaging indeed!

(V)

I am neither hungry nor thirsty, though it is passed two thirty in the afternoon. I feel a new strength and power in my body, as if I am a dweller in the world of the immortals. Now we have to return and the lady said, we will come again in the evening. Outside the hall many people are now seen coming, or going. In the centre of the courtyard six women-like fairy-daughters, are sitting and about them a few musical instruments which some handsome men are feeling. At the end of the courtyard I was admiring the frescoes when in entered a man about seven feet tall; he is blue and shining. I see here people with shining bodies and of various shades of complexions, and it seems as though they are somewhat transparent, as if something of their inner glow is emerging out. This man’s body is covered with precious ornaments. He has blood-shot eyes.

Had I come across this phenomenon elsewhere, I would have been scared. Pointing her finger at him my lady companion said, “Devaraj”, which literally means king of the gods, or Indra. So I enquired dubiously, “Indra, perhaps?” She grinned and said, “No! In charge of the temple.”

By then Devaraj, seeing her, came quickly towards her. She greeted him with a hearty smile. He responded by lifting her up with his huge arms and embracing her and kissing her cheeks. Placing her on the ground he stared at her questioningly after noticing me. What she said in an affectionate tone is, in effect, that I am an Indian Aryan from the south of the Himalayas.

I returned from the temple vibrating with a wonderful discovery. Situated in the northern most fringe of India, I have a strong feeling that this is a land of the Gandharvas, of gods. Now I asked my generous hostess her permission for seeing more of this place. She pointed towards the north and said that I could go in that direction and I shall see many things.

I set out with a lot of hope and enthusiasm. On either side of my path there are gardens all along, with small houses in them here and there the roofs of which are snow-white. But it is not snow. For this land knows no extremes of climate. And yet it does not look like the white wash we paint our houses with. There is a coolness in that white colour. The rooms appear strange, from little far they look like brick-kilns. The roof is somewhat like a dome.

Each house has a garden of little less than an acre in area. The entrance is a decorated gateway, very attractive. Who are they that live here? I wondered,–before crossing the second garden I saw at the nearest gateway a boy of about seven years. His hair is raised up to form a crest. He is wearing a necklace and ear-drops. In his hand he is holding something which is a foot long and an inch in width. At one end of it is curved a shark’s head in gold. As for his beauty, suffice it to say that I was charmed at first sight. He came running down the path and stood still in amazement slightly away from me. I too stopped to look at him.

Before long came out of the house a huge figure,–from his waist is hanging a garment of golden hue till the knees. His legs are bare except for a set of bangles around each ankle. He is wearing a necklace, and on each of the upper hands an amulet, and bracelets around the wrists. On his shoulders rests a tool whose handle he is clutching with the left hand. Coming to the boy he asked questions. In reply the boy said something; so he looked at me. Then coming before me he suddenly expressed great joy as though a complex problem is solved. Saying something to the boy he went his way giving me a welcome-smile. Now the boy came to me with a rather radiant face, held my hand and took me to their magnificent snow-white house.

I met the housewife on the doorway. Though slightly older than my first hostess, she too is just like a goddess. There is a bluish shade in her complexion, which makes her all the more lovely. The boy after exchanging a few words with his mother, moved on and, glancing at the wonderful furniture and other appliances, I followed him. Most of the things are silver-coloured. In one room I got a sweet smell; I looked on all sides. I picked up one of the translucent objects before me that are piled one on top of the other on a stool. It’s about a foot long and an inch in width. The boy scurried to a corner and pouring in a bowl a liquid substance from a jar, he carne to me and breaking a portion off the thing I had picked up, he dropped it in the bowl. Then he quickly brought a spoon. He was restive with joy. Meantime that broken piece started dilating and softening and finally the bowl was filled. He picked up one spoonful and held it to my mouth. Now it is clear to me of what that smell was when I entered the room. Its taste is unforgettable and incomparable. They call this food “niravatika.”

After a while a handsome and virile-looking man of about twenty-three years carne into the room. His attire is not much different from that of others. As he entered, the boy retired. That youth grasped my hand and said something pointing outside. I only could understand the words nrittya and samgeet, dance and music. The youth–he has a wand in his hand, the free end of which has the form of a snake’s hood–and myself came out of the house.

We started talking merrily. Shortly my eyes met a prodigious man attired in a blood-red cloth. Unlike other men here he wears his long hair braided which hangs down the . Here usually men make their hair in such a manner that all the hair remains on the head forming a crest. This man is wearing a type of carpet boots–strange in this place, though they are knee-high.

(VI)

Among other characteristics, this man had a square face and high cheek-bones. He gives me the impression that he is a stranger in this land, for here all are passing graceful. He too is holding a staff. Two of his upper front teeth are missing as also any sign of beard or moustache. His huge chest displays a dozen or more of necklaces of brownish beads.

Laughing he carne and started walking beside my companion in a peculiar gait. Now and then my Aryan friend would say something which would make this long-haired man laugh merrily. There were still those houses surrounded by gardens, on both sides of the road. Overhead, a vast spotless blue. Oh, the thrill of that morning, for the pure clarion air, and the Sun without heat.

So long I did not notice that the staff in the stranger’s hand had a gold knob and on top a small ivory ball. He stopped short on the way and started turning his hand with the wand–round and round in the air. After a few such movements I saw that a bird came spiraling down from the sky and sat on the stranger’s topi. Then this magician made the bird sit on his staff. It’s a snow-white bird with a girdle of pale blue around the neck, a pair of blue beaks and red eyes. My friend then held his wand towards the bird which came down on it. He should have known better, for this displeased the magician who tapped the bird’s head with the ivory ball of his wand and the poor bird flew away shrieking. At this the magician smiled a little while my friend became grave.

About ten minutes after this incident, my friend abruptly lunged the ivory ball of the magician’s wand with his own staff. The dislocated ivory ball went like a shot and dropped on the road and swiftly my friend secured it. And now the magician became grave. The walk continued; there was no talking, though. Not long after we found ourselves inside a wood. I would fain stand and stare at the magnificent plants and trees through hours; and such white and hard clay is perhaps unimaginable elsewhere. In time we came near a bridge where–upon the bidding of my friend–the magician quickened his steps and disappeared beyond the other end of the bridge. Gradually a stream came within our sight then a garden-far away in that garden we saw a palatial castle. The bow-shaped bridge is about thirty yards long and about four yards wide. The railings on either side are one yard high and probably made of leaves and branches of different colours. At the two ends of this bridge there are two engaging gateways.

(VII)

Stepping on the bridge my companion drew my attention to a music. At first I heard nothing, then some slow and soft tunes and then the more we neared the garden the clearer became that heavenly music. Upon entering the garden an exquisite voice accompanied by veena, a seven-stringed instrument, was heard. The tune was so full of life that all my hair stood on end.

The music could not have been coming from the palace which was too far. I asked my companion. He pointed to a grove a little way off. I was too eager to go there quickly, so I hastened; but the melody became scarcely audible now. My friend seized my hand. I judged that he wanted me to control myself. So long as I walked steadily I heard the music perfectly well, but the moment I hastened to arrive there early I could not hear the music. Now I could hear that golden voice anew.

Crossing the grove I saw an extensive circular area surrounded by a variety of trees and creepers. At the centre there is a round terrace, a flight of seven steps lead on to it. Upon it too there are beautiful plants round the edge. After a while we came up on the terrace whereupon the terrace could not be seen any more–in its stead an open hall below me. Again seven steps take one down into the hall. There are many people down there, males and females, all very wonderfully attired. In the centre a few persons were dancing in a circle.

My friend did not leave my hand lest I go off the rhythm. Actually I was calm and peace; so I almost lost my separateness from others. We climbed down like cats and stole ourselves near the central dancing spot and sat down. Then he released my hand. Now a change came over me, momentary though. I found myself in that peaceful or blissful state which occurs in deep sleep. Then things became normal. What I witnessed from my seat were all a dream, a waking dream for that matter, since I was awake all the while.

The females had gold bands around their ankles furnished with tinklers that emitted soothing sounds. Men too had ornaments on their legs which tinkled sweetly. We were rapt in the enjoyment of this uncanny combination of dance and music. There was no jumping about or the slightest vulgar gesture, there was not an extra movement, nothing detrop during the whole performance. This festival was held, to be sure, due to some special occasion, though exactly what I do not know.

As I said, it was a hall open to the sky, and it could comfortably hold more than a thousand people. To-day it was a capacity audience almost. Not one, there were seven sets of stairs cemented against the round wall at intervals. They served also as gallery seats for the common people. There was not a stain anywhere to be seen.

There were ten musicians and the rest together, singers, dancers, etc., were about twenty-five. In the audience, I suppose women outnumbered men, for to whichever side I turned I saw only ladies. There were some old persons who were attractive like ripe golden mangoes, and girls and boys too.

When we had come about midday there was going on dance with music. Before that there was probably some singing. A few persons from the audience also sang to the music, and nobody objected to it since they got their tunes and the beats right. To name the instruments, there were two veenas, which you play–like a violin–with a stick. In shape just like a betel leaf but very big, at the place of the stem a finger board of one and a half feet with the head of a shark curved at its top; such were two instruments. Flutes there were of two types, one was like our long side flutes of bamboo; the other was like the shehnai, though its sounds were much more sweet and round. There were two persons who played cymbals. All instruments were also works of art indeed, and none emitted any unpleasant sounds.

When my friend got up it was near upon evening. Talking merrily with some of the audiences he came out with me and–to my utter surprise–left me rightly at my lodging. Before leaving he invited me to go to the temple that night where, he said or gestured, there will be again a function of dance and music.

When at night my host and hostess went to the temple after the meal they took me along. I spent the whole night in the temple in a dreamy state. My tiny head, alas, had no room left to absorb any more of the nectar that this heaven had to offer.

The next day in the early morning, my hostess came and sat by looking at me amazedly. As though she even inquired what was the matter with me? What worried me then was whether or not I shall be able to make it clear to her that for all the extraordinary experiences that I have been having, I am now a victim of depression. However, my intuition said that I will be able to describe to her my condition and her explanation thereof will be intelligible to me.

(VIII)

“Truly it is strange. I can still feel the delight in which I was absorbed since yesterday, but I can stand no longer such high state of consciousness–as though I cannot sojourn here any more, why should this happen?”

My hostess smiled and said: “This is our land, don’t you see, the land of the Gandharvas? This place is situated on a very high altitude, people who come up here from lower regions find its air, water, soil quite strange. Over against the gross and familiar world of yours, everything here is more fluid, subtle, and to stay here for long is sickening for you. Now let me tell you what really happened. You are quite young–your heart is not as yet covered up by the hard crust of duplicity, grossness, and custom. Marking your innocent face my lord desired to keep you here for some time and satisfy your curiosity. That’s why you’ve been able to stay here so long and may remain so for a few more days. Nobody who leads the ordinary life of the gross material world can stay here for a moment against our will.”

I broke in, “The source of the Mother Ganges is our pilgrimage too, ...we also...”

She interrupted me, ...”But that source is the ice-cave which you saw first. None can go beyond it and trace the real source. And even if one can manage to reach there, he wouldn’t survive.”

“Here”, she continued, “the seasons have no influence, all’s joyful, none is ever touched by the blight of grief and depression.” I blurted out, “Then why am I so depressed this morning? I was so joyful till now. I was enjoying the musics so much.”

She beamed. “Because you do not belong to this place that you are upset. Soon you shall be free of this feeling.” She went on, “As for the musics, it was by our wish that you’ve been able to listen and appreciate them.” “Why,” I said, “am I not versed in the art of music?”

“Because the base in you was already prepared that the atomic particles of special life force of this place were able to penetrate the cells of your body and you were made receptive. Otherwise, a gross-minded person won’t be able to appreciate all these subtle things.”

Glad as I was, I remarked, “I understand. But do tell me how is it that though we are a different kind of people, different race, different creed, yet you are so gracious to me.”

She said, “Here everybody is attracted by visitors. Remember that only few beings of lower regions can manage to struggle through the obstacles and come here.”

I inquired why it was so. She replied, “Because of their gross material form and the tremendous attachment they have for it. Their lust for carnal pleasures, their anger, jealousy, madding attachment to material things, and their mad desire for ruling over others. Possessing the power to subdue animals, they think that they are the supreme. This pride has made them quite blind. Yet their pride is based on animal strength; for in the common mass there is no trace of any spiritual power. And again like animals, unless they get coarse, vital pleasures they do not feel happy or alive. Deep is their relation with the animal society. There is no end to their cleverness. They first devised instruments to destroy animals, and now they are using them against their own kind. Greed and jealousy are their refuge. One may have reason to believe that animality is their ideal. There are, of course, protests from those who belong to the noble path, but their words often do not reach the ears of the common people.”

By asking her these questions I must have moved her unconsciously to compassion for the fallen humanity, or else why should she, always so reticent, become so garrulous today?

“They are so thoroughly blinded by their egoism that they cannot see where they are led to with all their vanity. They do not compare themselves except with inferior creatures. Thus they inevitably fall into animality themselves.” After some quiet moments she resumed her simple but illuminating speech: “Man’s degraded state evokes pity in us, wherefore we sometimes feel an urge to raise in them the faculty of appreciating arts, to show them the power of love, and thus destroy their smallness. We Gandharvas consider every man as one to whom we must be helpful.”

She said all this out of her extreme kindness and goodwill towards us humans. But–I thought–aren’t the dwellers of this heaven devoid of weaknesses like kindness, shame, shyness, pity?

Knowing what was my problem she looked at me and smiled, and said, “True, we do not have all that but nor are we devoid of the feeling of love, for that is the way of the universe. To give each one what he needs and satisfy him is the keyword of our life. Here we do it usually by entertaining guests. Our closest neighbour below is man, and above us are gods. We are between these two. We have connections with both of them. We have the power, and it is our duty to introduce things divine, like arts, to mankind. But only few artists can retain for long the purity of the inspirations and only few can really be called masters. If we come to know of a youth who is noble and innocent, who is receptive, we attract him; we try to show him the path that leads to higher life.”

(IX)

“May the new sight that has been opened in me today be ever so open.” Murmuring these words I fell as though into a swoon. Now when I opened my eyes I saw may benefactress–she approached and touched my elbow, as though she had been waiting for my returning to awareness. She asked, “What happened to you?” and then embraced me as though she had been my mother. Then she remarked, “Don’t worry, a strong wave of delight had come–you were unable to endure it.”

Shortly I saw a light passed over her radiant countenance. She said, “Now, go on, tell me frankly your thoughts.” I had been waiting for this, so I spoke, “Oh! I don’t want to return to my country. I don’t want to go to that filthy place and to that perverted society of man. I am no more suffering from any depression; really I would like to remain here. Yet I can’t stay here against your will. Be gracious to me, O goddess! Here I am born anew.”

She replied, “Go you must, you’ll have to return according to the law of Nature. Those who come here from outside have to return. In fact there is no place for death here. Only they need not return from this place who have more or less an integral personality. We allow only those people to live here who have no ties with or attraction for family, property, wealth, friends, etc. Here we cannot imagine of raising particular families or of building family relations.”

I remarked, “Why, even you people have father, mother, brother, sister.”

She said, “That is true after the universal law of procreation. But we do not feel any special attraction for them. In your society blood relation is the principal relation, the rest are ‘strangers’; here everybody is a Gandharva. We are made of another substance. Here you’ll not find any craze for sensual pleasures. Then only one male Gandharva is attracted by another female when there is a reciprocal urge for self-sacrifice or self-offering.”

Yet since for all this talk I was none the less attracted by this place, I repeated my exhortation, “I have no desire of going home, help me! I am offering myself at your feet.”

“But you’ll have to go,” she could see the future, “pressed by your nature you’ll yourself leave this place, until then you may stay here without any fear whatever.”

I thought nothing of asking again quite the same question, “Exactly why shouldn’t I be able to live here all my life?” Always kind and smiling she explained, “As I said, you were brought up in a society which is totally different from ours, and even though you’re not aware you’ve inherited all the defects of the common man which have become part of your nature. Now for some time you may behave like one of us but probably soon you’ll yield to the attractions of your old nature which shall surely crop up. And that would be scandalous, harmful for you and for us.”

I was stunned. The unpleasant truth came home to me all right: that I am not worthy of this paradise, even as it is impossible to go in heaven with one’s physical body.

(X)

It is not like touring in London, Paris or New York–if one has the desire and can afford it, he can go and live anywhere on this earth, but not here. Coming in or going out of this place does not depend upon an individual’s will, nor has wealth any value here. But one day one of those vagabonds of the West may intrude into the privacy of the Gandharvas–as they are already exploring the ancient Mount Everest and may soon reach its virgin peak–then will these people have any chance of enjoying their privacy? And then there is no difficulty for landing planes here. Fortunately for the Gandharvas their land would look like a tract of snow from above. That is a temporary protection all right, but what about the future?

However now after regaining my strength I stayed here for one more day to see and hear many more things. I will now end my travelogue by recounting the last of the privileges given to me by my host and hostess whose names are–as I came to know later-Vasudeva and Gurbi, respectively.

On the fourth day early in the morning my hostess came to me flanked by Vasudeva and Makaranda –Makaranda was the young man who first took me to the function of dance and music in the grove. Leaving me to him my benignant host and hostess took leave of us.

Far away I saw a vast mountain clothed in ice–before me stretches a wide land of snow till the foot of that mountain. Makaranda said, “My friend, I heard from Sire Vasudeva that you’re eager to see the source of the Ganges. I’ve orders to take you there and after you’ve drunk in the scenic beauty, to guide you to the proper road so that you can return safely.”

He took hold of my hand which rendered my walk easier. We reached the foot of that mountain after walking about one and half miles. Then we climbed up the mountain till about half a mile to reach its shoulders.

“Behold!” explained my companion. I turned to look about twenty feet above us. I saw a huge white head of a calf raised in relief on the mountain opposite thirty to forty feet away. This head is four times bigger than that of an ordinary cow’s. It looked as though it stretched out from behind a white uneven wall. Its mouth is slightly open from within which are flowing down two narrow strips of milky white liquid, as broad as two hands pressed together sideways, and dropping into a chasm nearly twelve yards below it.

My companion wore a prayerful countenance, his palms joined together softly and slowly he mumbled, “This is Go-moukh! Ancient and hard to come across.” After a while he said, “Now come, I’ll lead you to the proper place,” and started descending. I did not have the heart to part with this phenomenon of a places. Slowly I lost my normal awakened state; as if I were bodyless and devoid of sense. I went carrying my half-conscious body by the force of my companion, by his side.

“You better eat something,” he spoke thrusting something into my hand. I took a little of what he gave and then continued walking. At last we reached the ice-covered cave from where I had begun my renewed search. I was now quite awake.

Makaranda said, “Come along, friend, I’ll leave you at the temple of Gangotri. I’m bidden to do that.”

It was near upon evening. Seeing from far the steeple of the temple of Gangotri, I turned my head behind to say to my guide, “Look there’s the temple”, but...Oh! where’s he? Leaving a void in my heart, when he had disappeared I could not know. He did not even wait to hear the last word from me. The word of my heart the Lord of my heart only knows.