Note 60 — CHAPTER 19

Whoever has unhooded the falcon at a lapwing, or even scared one from her nest, need not be told of its peculiarly distressing scream, as if appealing to sympathy. The allusion here is to the lapwing scared from her nest, as the rival armies of the Kurus and Pandus joined in battle, when the compassionate Krishna, taking from an elephant’s neck a war-bell (viraghanta), covered the nest, in order to protect it. When the majority of the feudal nobles of Marwar became self-exiled, to avoid the almost demoniac fury of their sovereign, since his alliance with the British Government, Anar Singh, the chief of Ahor, a fine specimen of the Rathor Rajput, brave, intelligent, and amiable, was one day lamenting, that while all India was enjoying tranquillity under the shield of Britain, they alone were suffering from the caprice of a tyrant; concluding a powerful appeal to my personal interposition with the foregoing allegory, and observing on the beauty of the office of mediator: “You are all-powerful,” added he, “and we may be of little account in the grand scale of affairs; but Krishna condescended to protect even the lapwing’s egg in the midst of battle.” This brave man knew my anxiety to make their peace with their sovereign, and being acquainted with the allegory, I replied with some fervour, in the same strain, “Would to God, Thakur Sahib, I had the viraghanta to protect you.” The effect was instantaneous, and the eye of this manly chieftain, who had often fearlessly encountered the foe in battle, filled with tears as, holding out his hand, he said, “At least you listen to our griefs, and speak the language of friendship. Say but the word, and you may command the services of twenty thousand Rathors.” There is, indeed, no human being more susceptible of excitement, and, under it, of being led to any desperate purpose, whether for good or for evil, than the Rajput.