Naraku
Draconarius
This is the third installment in India saga. Previous installments can found here:
and here:
[Editor's note: In 1853, G. B. Turner, Esq. of Baltimore, Maryland, a distant relative of mine, traveled to India in order to settle the estate of one of his firm’s clients. He kept a journal of his experiences during this trip which he later compiled into a manuscript, possibly intending publication. So far as I have been able to determine, the book was never published. I have also been unable to locate his original notes. I found the manuscript among the possessions of my grandfather whom, I believe, was descended from one of Mr Turner’s paternal uncles.
The following is an edited section of that manuscript. I have omitted the more mundane and tedious portions. Mr Turner was a lawyer and could therefore be quit verbose and often overly florid in his language. He also was a keen observe and meticulous in recording details which, while they might be interesting to some, contribute nothing to the overall story.
I have not altered any of the language of the manuscript. Please, keep this in mind. Mr Turner was a man of his time and place. Although, by the standards of the era, he was quite enlightened and open minded, he still shared many of the prejudices and stereotypes of the times. Some of the terms and descriptions may be offensive to modern readers. Please remember that they are the sentiments of a man of the nineteenth century, not of myself. - Naraku]
Upon arrive in Maheshibad, Mr Turner witnessed two executions which, even in that time and place, were unique. This is the portion I have transcribed because I believe they will be of most interest to my readers. I have also included unusually frank description of an encounter with a native girl which, I suspect would have been omitted if the manuscript had gone to publication.
As we pick up the story, Mr Turner and company have passed through the village that lay at the foot of the plateau on which the palace sits. They were concerned that the village seemed nearly deserted – N]
As we neared the approach to the palace, we discovered the occasion for the sudden abandonment of the village. It seemed that all of the inhabitants had gathered about a field on the northerly side. There were also a large contingent of soldiery and people of better dress than the common peasants, whom I took to be from the palace itself.
Before inquires could be made concerning the cause of this assembly, we espied an elephant descending on the inclined boulevard from the palace. The massive beast was draped with a colorful blanket and wore a hood of gold and jewels over his massive head. Upon his back sat a mahout; as are called the natives who train and control these gargantuan creatures as skillfully as any horseman might handle his steed. I had many chances during my time in India to marvel at how well these massive creatures can be trained, and am of the opinion that they are as intelligent and capable as a horse or dog or any other animal known to man; and perhaps more than some men. The mahout was as splendidly attired as his mount, in crimson and yellow silks. A company of soldiers marched in solemn precision along side the pachyderm and four men clad only in trousers followed.
Clearly, this was some form of ceremony or parade. Yet, we were still in a quandary as to its meaning. We observed no other animals or conveyances nor any persons of import; only the massive creature and his escort. It was only as the procession turned into the field, that we discerned the most peculiar detail of this cortege.
A thick chain was secured about the right hind leg of the elephant. Attached to this was a pair of ropes trailing nine feet behind the creature. The ends of these ropes were bound to the ankles of a naked man.
Each step of the great beast dragged the man forward. He must have been conveyed in this manner all the way down from the palace; a distance of nearly a mile. He bounced along like a rag-doll. Every limb must have been dislocated and many of his bones broken in the course of this procession. He was covered in dirt and sweat and the blood of many lacerations and abrasions. I say that he was naked, but he may not have started this way. There was a tattered cloth wrapped askew about his waist which might have been the loincloth commonly worn in this country as an undergarment, and sometimes as a laboring man’s sole garment. This unfortunate fellow might have begun his journey modestly – by the standards of this land – clothed; but the effect of being dragged relentlessly must have stripped him of his last shred of dignity.
Lieutenant Shaw rode up alongside me and explained that he had now learned, from one of the natives, the occasion of this strange spectacle. It was a rare event, seldom performed and seldom called for, of which he had heard stories but never witnessed nor known any who had witnessed; to wit, an execution by elephant.
The titanic creature trudged along, unmindful of the pityful burden attached to his hind leg. They entered the field and came to a stop in the center of the roughly circular area cordoned off by the soldiers.
At this point I and all of my party assumed that the poor felon was bereft of life, having been battered for at least and hour along the stony road from the palace. But, we were proven wrong for, when the shirtless men took hold of his legs to untie him, the unfortunate soul cried out in pain. Unmindful of his agonized cries, the soldiers dragged the man forward several feet and laid him with his head upon a large, flat stone which I am sure had been procured for this purpose.
I took note of the temperament of the crowd. Some were saddened, even weeping. Others showed signs of anger toward the condemned. A few seemed amused. The majority showed only curiosity and anticipation of the coming events.
I have witnessed many executions, in many forms and in many nations. In all of these, the mixed reactions of the observers are a common circumstance. The reception of the witnesses to the sight of an execution is the product of varied factors. Relationship to condemned or to his or her victims is the most important. In this case, those saddened and bereaved were likely to be family and friends of the man lying before them. Opinions on the nature of the crime is another influence on the audience. In this case, the man’s crime must not have been of such gravity as to elicit the crowds wrath, nor was it mitigated to a degree that there seemed to be any feelings of outrage over his treatment. Those who seemed angered, appeared more to be offended at an effrontery to social order rather than driven to fury over the transgression. The most common reception to an execution is one of inquiringness provoked by what I have come to believe is an endemic quality of humans to be fascinated by the sight of that which is novel combined with a voyeuristic nature ubiquitous to all mankind and a fascination in the suffering of others.
A man dressed in fine silks and a turban, and heavily bejeweled, who had been standing among the group of courtiers, separated from the others and raised his hand commanding silence. I would learn that this man was named Chandulal and he was the majordomo of the Maharajah. For now, he was only the man who seemed to be in charge.
Mr Chandulal made a pronouncement – in the native tongue – of the condemned man’s misdeed, which Lieutenant Shaw was kind enough to translate for our party. The man was a stone mason named Arvind, who had trespassed into the harem of the Maharajah and had been caught in flagrante delicto with one of the concubines. This elicited a gasp from many in the crowd as well as from the Deacon Hainkley [Archibald Hainkley, a Presbyterian Church official traveling with Mr Turner to Reverend Gillyard’s mission – N].
At the conclusion of this proclamation, Mr Chandulal resumed his place in the royal company. One of the shirtless men approached the condemned with a large, curved dagger in his hand. He knelt beside the man and took hold of his male organs. The pitiful criminal had a look of horror on his bloodied face and twitched about as if to try and protect his masculinity; but his shattered and dislocated limbs would not respond. With a swift stroke the knife sliced away both his phallus and testicles.
The man screamed. Some in the crowd gasped and I saw a few men instinctively put their hands over their own manhood. I heard a shocked squeal behind me and turned to see Mr Tattershaw [Henry Tattershaw, a representative of the British Museum traveling with Mr Turner – N] looking as pale as one who has seen a ghost. The Deacon, seated beside him in the carriage, had his hand over his mouth in the pose of one preventing himself from regurgitation. Mr Herwarth [John Herwarth, an East India Company official – N] sat stone-faced astride his horse. For myself, I was not so discomfited, having borne witness to many an act of bestial cruelty in my journey through life; although this was the first time I had seen a man emasculated. But, what came next, was the most extraordinary thing I had seen till that time.
The unfortunate Arvind lay on his side wailing in pain as blood spurted from the wound of his emasculation. I though that the intent might be to leave him to bleed to death as no effort was made to staunch the hemorrhaging. However, this was not to be his fate. Something far more grizzly was planned.
The mahout, who had dismounted, led the elephant over toward the suffering criminal. Prompted by short, metal tipped stick used by those of his trade, the mahout urged the massive beast to raise his right foot and hold it above the head of the condemned man.
What happened next was not unexpected, given the position of man and beast. The foot pad of an elephant is as large as a salver and wider than any man’s head. For a moment, the foot of the mighty pachyderm hung mere inches above the head of Arvind which rested still upon the large flat stone. Then, prompted by no more than a gentle touch by his trainer upon his knee, the great creature brought down his foot.
If one has seen a pumpkin or watermelon smashed with a sledge hammer, or can at least imagine such a thing, one would have some idea of what we witnessed that day. There was the sound of popping, squishing, and cracking. A mist of crimson spread out and sanguine bits of bone, flesh, brain shot out across the ground. The elephant removed his foot and revealed a ghastly mass of bloody and mangled flesh where once a man’s head had lain, next to a battered corpse with a ragged stump of a neck. Only the hanks of black hair; some still adhering the bottom of the pachyderm’s foot; gave indication that there once been a head attached.
At the moment of the execution; I heard many screams of both men and women in the crowd. I saw some women swoon and many of both sexes retching. This convinced me that; even in a land where the cruelties of both nature and man were often on display; such a harrowing exhibition was a cause of disturbance.
And the natives were not the only ones disquieted. Deacon Hainkley lost his battle with nausea and was vomiting over the side of the carriage. Mr Tattershaw was ashen, his face covered in sweat. He had turned away as if terrified to look again in the direction of the horror he had just witnessed.
At this point, Mr Chandulal – whom, I learned, spoke quite good English – presented himself to us with much flourish and pomp; making not the least acknowledgment of the ghastly exhibition he had just over seen, as well as politely ignoring the deacon’s discomfiture. Lieutenant Shaw presented him with the letters of introduction to the Maharajah which Sir Percival [Pettigrew, chief official of the East India Company in Madras, introduced in Chapter X – N] had entrusted to him. The Majordomo accepted these with much servility and asked us to allow himself and the soldiers to accompany us to the palace where, he assured us, the Maharajah would joyously receive us.
{To be continued Friday with more women and less spatter.}
and here:
Observations and Experiences from My Travels in India
by G. B. Turner, Esq.
(Edited by Naraku)
by G. B. Turner, Esq.
(Edited by Naraku)
[Editor's note: In 1853, G. B. Turner, Esq. of Baltimore, Maryland, a distant relative of mine, traveled to India in order to settle the estate of one of his firm’s clients. He kept a journal of his experiences during this trip which he later compiled into a manuscript, possibly intending publication. So far as I have been able to determine, the book was never published. I have also been unable to locate his original notes. I found the manuscript among the possessions of my grandfather whom, I believe, was descended from one of Mr Turner’s paternal uncles.
The following is an edited section of that manuscript. I have omitted the more mundane and tedious portions. Mr Turner was a lawyer and could therefore be quit verbose and often overly florid in his language. He also was a keen observe and meticulous in recording details which, while they might be interesting to some, contribute nothing to the overall story.
I have not altered any of the language of the manuscript. Please, keep this in mind. Mr Turner was a man of his time and place. Although, by the standards of the era, he was quite enlightened and open minded, he still shared many of the prejudices and stereotypes of the times. Some of the terms and descriptions may be offensive to modern readers. Please remember that they are the sentiments of a man of the nineteenth century, not of myself. - Naraku]
Chapter XIII – Maheshibad
[On May 15st, Mr Turner, with three English travelers escorted by a company of 20 sepoys under the command of Lieutenant James Shaw of the Royal East India Company, reached the Kingdom of Maheshibad (now part of the State of Andhra-Pradesh).The chapter covering his time in Maheshibad is the longest in the manuscript. Mr Turner had traveled to India to settle the estate of one of his firms clients, Miss Rosalie Chenowith, a spinster who had left her entire estate to her nephew, Elisha Gillyard, a Presbyterian missionary. Much of this section deals with the legal minutia of the case and is therefore rather boring. The chapter also includes a detailed description of the Maharajah’s palace and court which might be interesting to some people, but I have decided to omit this for the purpose of concise story telling.
[On May 15st, Mr Turner, with three English travelers escorted by a company of 20 sepoys under the command of Lieutenant James Shaw of the Royal East India Company, reached the Kingdom of Maheshibad (now part of the State of Andhra-Pradesh).The chapter covering his time in Maheshibad is the longest in the manuscript. Mr Turner had traveled to India to settle the estate of one of his firms clients, Miss Rosalie Chenowith, a spinster who had left her entire estate to her nephew, Elisha Gillyard, a Presbyterian missionary. Much of this section deals with the legal minutia of the case and is therefore rather boring. The chapter also includes a detailed description of the Maharajah’s palace and court which might be interesting to some people, but I have decided to omit this for the purpose of concise story telling.
Upon arrive in Maheshibad, Mr Turner witnessed two executions which, even in that time and place, were unique. This is the portion I have transcribed because I believe they will be of most interest to my readers. I have also included unusually frank description of an encounter with a native girl which, I suspect would have been omitted if the manuscript had gone to publication.
As we pick up the story, Mr Turner and company have passed through the village that lay at the foot of the plateau on which the palace sits. They were concerned that the village seemed nearly deserted – N]
As we neared the approach to the palace, we discovered the occasion for the sudden abandonment of the village. It seemed that all of the inhabitants had gathered about a field on the northerly side. There were also a large contingent of soldiery and people of better dress than the common peasants, whom I took to be from the palace itself.
Before inquires could be made concerning the cause of this assembly, we espied an elephant descending on the inclined boulevard from the palace. The massive beast was draped with a colorful blanket and wore a hood of gold and jewels over his massive head. Upon his back sat a mahout; as are called the natives who train and control these gargantuan creatures as skillfully as any horseman might handle his steed. I had many chances during my time in India to marvel at how well these massive creatures can be trained, and am of the opinion that they are as intelligent and capable as a horse or dog or any other animal known to man; and perhaps more than some men. The mahout was as splendidly attired as his mount, in crimson and yellow silks. A company of soldiers marched in solemn precision along side the pachyderm and four men clad only in trousers followed.
Clearly, this was some form of ceremony or parade. Yet, we were still in a quandary as to its meaning. We observed no other animals or conveyances nor any persons of import; only the massive creature and his escort. It was only as the procession turned into the field, that we discerned the most peculiar detail of this cortege.
A thick chain was secured about the right hind leg of the elephant. Attached to this was a pair of ropes trailing nine feet behind the creature. The ends of these ropes were bound to the ankles of a naked man.
Each step of the great beast dragged the man forward. He must have been conveyed in this manner all the way down from the palace; a distance of nearly a mile. He bounced along like a rag-doll. Every limb must have been dislocated and many of his bones broken in the course of this procession. He was covered in dirt and sweat and the blood of many lacerations and abrasions. I say that he was naked, but he may not have started this way. There was a tattered cloth wrapped askew about his waist which might have been the loincloth commonly worn in this country as an undergarment, and sometimes as a laboring man’s sole garment. This unfortunate fellow might have begun his journey modestly – by the standards of this land – clothed; but the effect of being dragged relentlessly must have stripped him of his last shred of dignity.
Lieutenant Shaw rode up alongside me and explained that he had now learned, from one of the natives, the occasion of this strange spectacle. It was a rare event, seldom performed and seldom called for, of which he had heard stories but never witnessed nor known any who had witnessed; to wit, an execution by elephant.
The titanic creature trudged along, unmindful of the pityful burden attached to his hind leg. They entered the field and came to a stop in the center of the roughly circular area cordoned off by the soldiers.
At this point I and all of my party assumed that the poor felon was bereft of life, having been battered for at least and hour along the stony road from the palace. But, we were proven wrong for, when the shirtless men took hold of his legs to untie him, the unfortunate soul cried out in pain. Unmindful of his agonized cries, the soldiers dragged the man forward several feet and laid him with his head upon a large, flat stone which I am sure had been procured for this purpose.
I took note of the temperament of the crowd. Some were saddened, even weeping. Others showed signs of anger toward the condemned. A few seemed amused. The majority showed only curiosity and anticipation of the coming events.
I have witnessed many executions, in many forms and in many nations. In all of these, the mixed reactions of the observers are a common circumstance. The reception of the witnesses to the sight of an execution is the product of varied factors. Relationship to condemned or to his or her victims is the most important. In this case, those saddened and bereaved were likely to be family and friends of the man lying before them. Opinions on the nature of the crime is another influence on the audience. In this case, the man’s crime must not have been of such gravity as to elicit the crowds wrath, nor was it mitigated to a degree that there seemed to be any feelings of outrage over his treatment. Those who seemed angered, appeared more to be offended at an effrontery to social order rather than driven to fury over the transgression. The most common reception to an execution is one of inquiringness provoked by what I have come to believe is an endemic quality of humans to be fascinated by the sight of that which is novel combined with a voyeuristic nature ubiquitous to all mankind and a fascination in the suffering of others.
A man dressed in fine silks and a turban, and heavily bejeweled, who had been standing among the group of courtiers, separated from the others and raised his hand commanding silence. I would learn that this man was named Chandulal and he was the majordomo of the Maharajah. For now, he was only the man who seemed to be in charge.
Mr Chandulal made a pronouncement – in the native tongue – of the condemned man’s misdeed, which Lieutenant Shaw was kind enough to translate for our party. The man was a stone mason named Arvind, who had trespassed into the harem of the Maharajah and had been caught in flagrante delicto with one of the concubines. This elicited a gasp from many in the crowd as well as from the Deacon Hainkley [Archibald Hainkley, a Presbyterian Church official traveling with Mr Turner to Reverend Gillyard’s mission – N].
At the conclusion of this proclamation, Mr Chandulal resumed his place in the royal company. One of the shirtless men approached the condemned with a large, curved dagger in his hand. He knelt beside the man and took hold of his male organs. The pitiful criminal had a look of horror on his bloodied face and twitched about as if to try and protect his masculinity; but his shattered and dislocated limbs would not respond. With a swift stroke the knife sliced away both his phallus and testicles.
The man screamed. Some in the crowd gasped and I saw a few men instinctively put their hands over their own manhood. I heard a shocked squeal behind me and turned to see Mr Tattershaw [Henry Tattershaw, a representative of the British Museum traveling with Mr Turner – N] looking as pale as one who has seen a ghost. The Deacon, seated beside him in the carriage, had his hand over his mouth in the pose of one preventing himself from regurgitation. Mr Herwarth [John Herwarth, an East India Company official – N] sat stone-faced astride his horse. For myself, I was not so discomfited, having borne witness to many an act of bestial cruelty in my journey through life; although this was the first time I had seen a man emasculated. But, what came next, was the most extraordinary thing I had seen till that time.
The unfortunate Arvind lay on his side wailing in pain as blood spurted from the wound of his emasculation. I though that the intent might be to leave him to bleed to death as no effort was made to staunch the hemorrhaging. However, this was not to be his fate. Something far more grizzly was planned.
The mahout, who had dismounted, led the elephant over toward the suffering criminal. Prompted by short, metal tipped stick used by those of his trade, the mahout urged the massive beast to raise his right foot and hold it above the head of the condemned man.
What happened next was not unexpected, given the position of man and beast. The foot pad of an elephant is as large as a salver and wider than any man’s head. For a moment, the foot of the mighty pachyderm hung mere inches above the head of Arvind which rested still upon the large flat stone. Then, prompted by no more than a gentle touch by his trainer upon his knee, the great creature brought down his foot.
If one has seen a pumpkin or watermelon smashed with a sledge hammer, or can at least imagine such a thing, one would have some idea of what we witnessed that day. There was the sound of popping, squishing, and cracking. A mist of crimson spread out and sanguine bits of bone, flesh, brain shot out across the ground. The elephant removed his foot and revealed a ghastly mass of bloody and mangled flesh where once a man’s head had lain, next to a battered corpse with a ragged stump of a neck. Only the hanks of black hair; some still adhering the bottom of the pachyderm’s foot; gave indication that there once been a head attached.
At the moment of the execution; I heard many screams of both men and women in the crowd. I saw some women swoon and many of both sexes retching. This convinced me that; even in a land where the cruelties of both nature and man were often on display; such a harrowing exhibition was a cause of disturbance.
And the natives were not the only ones disquieted. Deacon Hainkley lost his battle with nausea and was vomiting over the side of the carriage. Mr Tattershaw was ashen, his face covered in sweat. He had turned away as if terrified to look again in the direction of the horror he had just witnessed.
At this point, Mr Chandulal – whom, I learned, spoke quite good English – presented himself to us with much flourish and pomp; making not the least acknowledgment of the ghastly exhibition he had just over seen, as well as politely ignoring the deacon’s discomfiture. Lieutenant Shaw presented him with the letters of introduction to the Maharajah which Sir Percival [Pettigrew, chief official of the East India Company in Madras, introduced in Chapter X – N] had entrusted to him. The Majordomo accepted these with much servility and asked us to allow himself and the soldiers to accompany us to the palace where, he assured us, the Maharajah would joyously receive us.
{To be continued Friday with more women and less spatter.}
