Note 102 — K (continued 3)

The Lingāyats have no idea how their forefathers came to the Chingleput district. Questioned whether they have any relatives in Mysore, many answered in the affirmative, and one even pointed to one in a high official position as a close relation. Another said that the Gurukkal or Jangam (priest) is one and the same man for the Mysore Lingāyats and themselves. A third told me of his grandfather’s wanderings in Mysore, Bellary, and other places of importance to the Lingāyats. I have also heard the story that, on the Chembrambākam Lingāyats being divided into two factions through disputes among the local caste-men, a Lingāyat priest came from Mysore, and brought about their union. These few facts suffice to show that the Lingāyats are emigrants from Mysore, and not converts from the indigenous populations of the district. But what as to the date of their immigration? The earliest date which can, with any show of reason, be ascribed thereto seems to be towards the end of the seventeenth century, when Chikka Dēva Rāja ruled over Mysore. He adopted violent repressive measures against the Lingāyats for quelling a widespread insurrection, which they had fomented against him throughout the State. His measures of financial reform deprived the Lingāyat priesthood of its local leadership and much of its pecuniary profit. What followed may best be stated in the words of Colonel Wilks,102 the Mysore historian. “Everywhere the inverted plough, suspended from the tree at the gate of the village, whose shade forms a place of assembly for its inhabitants, announced a state of insurrection. Having determined not to till the land, the husbandmen deserted their villages, and assembled in some places like fugitives seeking a distant settlement; in others as rebels breathing revenge. Chikka Dēva Rāja, however, was too prompt in his measures to admit of any very formidable combination. Before proceeding to measures of open violence, he adopted a plan of perfidy and horror, yielding to nothing which we find recorded in the annals of the most sanguinary people. An invitation was sent to all the Jangam priests to meet the Rāja at the great temple of Nunjengōd, ostensibly to converse with him on the subject of the refractory conduct of their followers. Treachery was apprehended, and the number which assembled was estimated at about four hundred only. A large pit had been previously prepared in a walled enclosure, connected by a series of squares composed of tent walls with the canopy of audience, at which they were received one at a time, and, after making their obeisance, were desired to retire to a place where, according to custom, they expected to find refreshments prepared at the expense of the Rāja. Expert executioners were in waiting in the square, and every individual in succession was so skilfully beheaded and tumbled into the pit as to give no alarm to those who followed, and the business of the public audience went on without interruption or suspicion. Circular orders had been sent for the destruction on the same day of all the Jangam Mutts (places of residence and worship) in his dominions, and the number reported to have been destroyed was upwards of seven hundred.... This notable achievement was followed by the operations of the troops, chiefly cavalry. The orders were distinct and simple—to charge without parley into the midst of the mob; to cut down every man wearing an orange-coloured robe (the peculiar garb of the Jangam priests).”