My Friend the Yoghi

Chambers' Journal, May 5, 1906.


MY FRIEND THE YOGHI
by Mrs. Skovgaard-Pedersen.

THE following story was related to me recently by a retired
colonel of artillery who has spent a great deal of his life in India.
I obtained his permission to publish it, and herewith repeat it as it
was told to me:

After the Afghan campaign of 1879 I was appointed adjutant of the
royal artillery at Morar, a cantonment established to look over the
fortress-city of Gwalior. The fortress was occupied by the British
after the Mutiny, and, I think, about the year 1884 was handed over to
the Maharajah Sindia, ruler of Gwalior, when the British troops were
withdrawn from the fortress of Gwalior and the cantonment of Morar.
The latter now forms a suburb of the city, and the native nobles and
wealthy personages enjoy the bungalows and gardens which were built
during the British occupancy.

'Morar was by no means a favourite station with the British. It
had the reputation of being unhealthy and dull to a degree, the
climate was very hot and enervating, and I did not take up my abode
there with any great exaltation. Still, the appointment was regarded
as a reward of good service over the frontier, and I determined to
make the best of it. The first business was to find a suitable
bungalow, but this was not so easy. In fact, almost the only vacant
one was the first at the entrance of the cantonment; but as it
possessed certain advantages in the way of an extensive compound
containing two good wells, I decided to take it in preference to
sharing quarters with another officer, and set about devoting my
leisure hours to gardening. The soil all around Morar is what is
called “cotton soil,” said to be unhealthy to live on, but with the
assistance of irrigation very fertile. My garden was a perfect joy to
me. In the cold season all the English vegetables came to perfection,
whilst roses, jasmine, petunias, geraniums, and a host of other
flowers flourished luxuriantly; and before I had been there a year the
place was a sight to behold.

'But now to commence my tale. It was, I think, in 1881, just
before Christmas, that one morning I rode into my compound from the
office, and found standing before my veranda a tall Hindu Mendicant,
naked save for a loin-cloth, smeared with ashes, and with long hair
streaming in ringlets over his shoulders. He was gazing with a
profound expression at my favorite Maréchal Niel rose, but turned to
salaam as I dismounted. I went off to my bath, and during the process
I inquired of my bearer or valet, coda Bux, who the old fellow was.
"A most holy man," he replied. "He has been in contemplation of your
flowers for an hour or more, and he has blessed you and the garden;
and indeed, Protector of the
poor, you must have been born under a lucky star to receive a blessing
from one so holy."

'On going out to the veranda I found the Yoghi – as the Hindus
call these holy men – still in contemplation of the rose. I beckoned
to him, and as he approached I asked him in Hindustani what I could do
for him. He replied that silver and gold were nothing to him; but he
begged for permission to wander over my beautiful garden, which I
readily grated, telling him that he might take what vegetables he
wanted. Then I departed for the mess-breakfast, leaving him with
outstretched arms blessing me and mine.

'After breakfast I returned to discover him squatting in a corner
of the veranda with his spoils – some peas and beans, a few spring
onions, two or three turnips, carrots, and radishes – spread out
before him. “That is right,” I said, nodding approval. “I hope you
will enjoy your dinner.” In reply the Yoghi arose, and, with a
profound salaam, begged me to allow him to rest for a day or two in my
veranda, as he was very weary. I turned to Coda Bux and asked whether
he thought there would be any objection. "O my lord!" he cried-- "O
Protector of the Poor! What objection could there be? His presence
will keep off every evil from the compound, and bring good luck to us
all, even to the meanest sweeper. He is a very holy man, O Protector
of the Poor!" "All right!" I rejoined. "Coda Bux does not mind, and
I am sure I do not. You can remain as long as you please, and you may
have what vegetables you wish for, as well as milk from the cow."

'I may mention that I came into possession of the said cow under
rather peculiar circumstances. The meat-contractor was one day
driving some cattle into the cantonment, when this particular beast
lay down in the road opposite my bungalow, and could not get up
again. In pity for it, I bought it for a few rupees - it was a small,
thin cow - and after some trouble got it through my gateway and poured
meal and water down its throat. Next morning it was up and grazing
happily, and the following week bore a calf which was pronounced by
all the servants to be pure Brahmin, and an omen of great good to the
compound. So the little animal remained with its calf; and as I never
touch mi9lk, I suppose the bearer got the benefit of the bargain.

'To return to my friend the Yoghi. At tiffin-time, when I rode
back from the office, he was cooking his dinner under a mango-tree;
so, understanding the ways of the natives, I was careful not to go
near him, as even my shadow falling upon his food would render it
uneatable under the strict laws of caste. Old Coda Bux had placed a
mat and a blanket in a corner of the veranda, and it was clear that
the holy man was to be my guest for some days. Indeed, he had been
there for nearly a week, when one morning I found the veranda empty,
save for two marigolds laid carefully in front of each doorway, and
intended, no doubt, as +p.p.c.+ cards. Previous to his departure I had
had some conversation with my Yoghi friend, and found him to be a well-
informed man, much versed in occult science, but also in the gossip of
the native State wherein we were quartered. From him I learned more
of the Maharajah and his nobles, besides all the interior economy of
the city, than I could have don in five or six years' residence as a
British officer.

'Two incidents I may relate to show the great influence these
Yoghis possess over the lower clases in India. A few days after my
guest had left me I was strolling through the native bazaar, the
faithful Coda Bux in attendance, when it struck me that a tremendous
amount of respect was being shown me by all the Hindu shop-keepers.
The crowded out of their shops into the street, and almost prostrated
themselves in low obeisances before me as though I were a person of
the greatest possible distinction; and once, when I stopped to ask the
name of some curious wild-plums, the fruit-seller insisted on loading
Coda Bux with a quantity of them, for which he refused payment, saying
that it was a great privilege, that his stall should have found favour
in my eyes. On out way home I commented to my bearer on this unwonted
civility. "O Protector of the Poor!" he replied, "do you think that
all the bazaar is not aware that your bungalow was selected for a
resting-place by the most holy man of the century? Verily, it is known
that you have thus been blessed!"

"Shortly after this incident I was absent on a few days' shooting
expedition, and on my return inquired for the +chokidar+ (night-
watchman), whom I could not see anywhere about the place. I was told
that he had gone to visit a sick relative, and would not be back for
two or three days. Now, let it be known that the +chokidar+ system
was a curious institution in Morar. A man belonging to a certain
class was paid a few rupees a month to guard the house and compound.
Beyond meeting the master on his return from mess, and tapping the
floor of the veranda a couple of times with a long bamboo pole after
he had seen him safely into his bedroom, he never attempted to keep
watch, but rolled himself up in a blanket and slept soundly all
through the night. The fat was that if one paid a +choklidar+ of a
certain class the compound was rarely if ever robbed; but if any other
native was taken in that capacity, or if one was too stingy to employ
a +chokidar,+ robbed one was sure to be sooner or later - and
generally sooner! Therefore, when I heard that mine had taken himself
off I began to think that I was probably to be robbed, and that the
rascal, aware of the fact, thought it advisable to be well away from
the scene of action at the time, for the class the +chokidars+ are
taken from are thieves, and to employ one is simply to pay blackmail.
So I summoned the bearer and asked him what he would advise me to do.
Coda Bux, however, smiled at my suspicions. "O Protector of the Poor!
Who in all the Gwalior territory would dare to rob that bungalow that
a holy man has blessed? The +chokidar+ knows that well; hence he has
gone, and considered it unnecessary to put any one in his place.
Verily, my master need have no fear." In fact, it was as he said.
During the absence of the watchman no one attempted to molest the
place.

'About a month later I accepted an invitation to spend a week-end
with Colonel Denneby, the officer in political charge of the Dholpur
State. This was a tract of country adjoining the Gwalior State, and
the road that traversed it was the high-road leading from Central
India to Agra and the Northwest Provinces. Its geographical position
made its loyalty to the British during the Mutiny of great importance
to our Government, and the chief had duly been raised from the rank of
Rajah to that of Majarajah. He had married the daughter of the
reigning prince of Patiala, an important and wealthy native State
situated on the borders of the Punjab, which had also bee
distinguished ny its loyalty to the British Crown. The Maharajah had
died about a dozen years before this time, leaving a mere child as his
heir. The Government having appointed a Council of Regency, with the
widow as regent and president, it was important to select a capable
British officer who would take political charge of the State during
the long minority of the heir, and my esteemed friend the colonel was
selected, having descended from an old and aristocratic Irish family,
ha had in early life gone out to India as a cadet, distinguished
himself throughout the Mutiny, and been for some years employed in
charge of the police in the north-west whilst the fermentation
consequent upon that tremendous cyclone was simmering down. It was
then that he made his mark by his activity, tact, and courage, and
hence he was chosen to direct the Council of Regency at Dholpur. The
Maharana, a very superior and clever woman, was not long in
recognizing the worth of the British resident, and the value that
would accrue to her son by intimate intercourse with the colonel and
his charming family. Therefore the young Prince spent most of his
time with them. He was about sixteen years of age when I made his
acquaintance, a highly educated youth, with a knowledge of French,
English, and music, the most perfect manners, and about the best seat
of horseback I ever saw. The colonel, whose family had then lately
returned to England, was anxious that the prince should make the
acquaintance of as many English gentlemen as possible, and thus every
week military and civilian officers from the neighbouring stations
were invited to meet at the Residency.

On Sunday morning the colonel, following the habit of Anglo-
Indians, did not rise until eight o'clock instead of at six - his
usual hour on week-days - and when, at six o'clock, I sallied forth
into the fresh air all the house was still asleep. I was determined
to climb one of a couple of hills about three miles distant, from
which I could obtain a good view of the surrounding country and the
river Jumna. Imagine my astonishment when, half-way to the summit, I
en countered no less a person than my friend the Yoghi! He at once
salaamed me, and said, "I knew you would come here this morning, and I
have a small breakfast ready for you." So I followed him to the top
of the hill, where he evidently had him abode under an overhanging
rock. Here he bade me sit down whilst he brought out tea, figs and
raisins, and some most delicious cakes; then, breakfast being disposed
of, I lit a cigar and we talked for a while. I told him that I should
spend my two months' leave at Simla, and he advised me to visit
Harduar +en route,+ this being a noted place of pilgrimage at the
headwaters of the Ganges, where vast crowds of Hindus from all parts
of Northern India assemble every April, a horse and cattle fair being
held there at the same time. I then took leave of my strange host and
returned to the town.

'At breakfast I told the colonel of my adventure. He looked
rather grave, and advised me not to keep up the acquaintance, and not
to mention the matter before the Maharana. This Yoghi was in high
favour with the young Prince, and the colonel very prudently did not
interfere in religious matters; but his experiences in the north had
led him to distrust all Yoghis and mendicants of the class.

'Another month passed, and I again spent a week-end with the
colonel. On the Sunday morning old Coda Bux, who was always up and at
hand at any hour when I required him, advised me to take my gun and go
to the Pandy Lake before breakfast, where I should be sure to get a
shot at a duck. I accordingly started off, though without the gun;
and as I arrived at the shores of the lake, out from amongst the reeds
stepped my Yoghi. Had Coda Bux sent me there? He asked.

'”Well, yes; he advised me to come,” I replied. “Where did you
see him?”

'”I have not seen him; but I warned him to tell you to come
here,” was the man's answer.

'Again we entered into conversation, and again he strongly
advised me to visit Harduar on the way to Simla; but I explained that
the expense of taking servants, tents, and a pony there for a few day
would be too great. He replied that the expense would be little. It
was true that there would be no room at the dak-bungalow, but I should
find tents and servants awaiting me at small cost, and I could buy a
pony in the place, and need take no one with me but Coda Bux. Then we
parted; but on my return to the Residency I took good care not to
mention our meeting to the colonel.

'Warm weather and April came together, and I was glad to obtain
the first leave and to quit the place for a time. I do not know what
impelled me to go to Harduar, for I certainly had no particular desire
to see it; but somehow or other I found myself there one morning, with
Coda Bux in attendance. At the dak-bungalow there was no room for me,
and on my arrival I was informed by the butler that I could not even
obtain a meal, as the house really belonged to the Canal-Engineer
Department, and the officers were all quartered there to meet the
Lieutenant-Governor. This was most disappointing; but as I stood
wondering what I could do, a cheery canal-engineer came out on to the
veranda and invited me in to breakfast.

'”We'll discuss ways and means afterwards,” he said. “I think I
have an old tent, which you are welcome to pitch in the compound, and
you can buy a +charpoy+ [native bed] in the bazaar.”

'After breakfast, which I thoroughly enjoyed in the company of
the jovial engineers, who when out on district duty fully make up for
any want of hilarity which they may feel in their rather lonely lives.
I was told that a +bunyah+ wanted to see me. A stout, old grain-
seller then stepped forward on to the veranda, and told me that he was
from Roorkee, and that he had pitched tents for me and my servant on
the Government camping-ground next to General Anderson's camp. He
also added that the General Sahib, who was chief of the Thug and
Dacoit Department, had a beautiful pony for sale.

'Bidding my hospitable hosts farewell, I accompanied the +bunyah+
to the camping-ground, and on the way asked him why he had made these
preparations for me. He replied that a week ago, as he was saying his
prayers, a holy man had stood before him and told him that he was to
pitch tents for a sahib from Morar, whom he would find at the dak-
bungalow. That morning my bearer, whom he knew in former time as
servant to an engineer officer at Roorkee, had come to the camping
ground and asked whether the tents were for a sahib from Morar. He
had at once told the +chokadir+ to hand everything over to Coda Bux,
and had come on himself to find me at the bungalow. As to the pony,
he had heard the General say that he would sell it; and my informant
concluded by hoping that I, as a Protector of the Poor, would think
kindly of a poor old +bunyah+ with many mouths to fill, and give him a
good +chit.+ (recommendation)

'At the camp I found Coda Bux bust unpacking my traps in my tent,
which was furnished with everything useful. Leaving him to his work,
I strolled over to the place where the General's horses were picketed;
and meeting General Anderson, I introduced myself, and said I believed
he had a pony for sale.

'”Bless my heart alive!” he exclaimed, “how did you know that?
It's barely four minutes since I determined to sell the beast. I find
he's not steady in a crowd, and shirks elephants, so he won't do for
me; but he is a rare piece of stuff that I picked up at Lahore for two
hundred rupees, so if you want him you can have him for the same
price.”

'Before I had been two minutes on the pony's back I decided to
close the bargain, and a splendid animal he proved to be. Afterwards,
when I returned to England, he fell into the hands of an officer of
the Ninth Lancers, and turned out the best polo pony in that sporting
regiment. The general proposed that, as my tent was pitched alongside
of his camp, I should mess with him – which offer I gladly accepted.
Thus, before I had been an hour in Harduar, I found myself in a
comfortable tent, with a pony to ride and my commissariat arranged
for, exactly as the Yoghi had predicted.

'Herewith end my adventures in connection with that holy man. On
my way back to Morar, after two months' leave, I rested and dined at
the railway station at Umballa; and during the two hours I spent
there, Coda Bux, who had gone off to gossip as usual, came in greatly
excited to tell me that he had seen the Yoghi. My friend was
proceding to the thibetan border, and had said he would not return.
He predicted that before another rainy season was concluded I should
leave bengal, and that Coda Bux would return to his home, end his days
peaceably, be cremated with all ceremony, and have his ashes deposited
on the bosom of Holy Mother Ganges.

'True enough, the following year, when I was again at Simla, I
was promoted to a mountain battery at Khandalla in the ghats between
Poona and Bombay. Coda Bux, being old and having saved enough money
for the requirements of his declining years, did not accompany me, and
we parted the best of friends, he returning to his native village,
near Delapore, on the banks of the Ganges, and I starting for Bombay.

'In 1884 I received a letter from one Mannk Chund, evidently
written in a bazaar, which informed me that coda Bux had shuffled off
this mortal coil, that his eldest son had had the honour of igniting
the funeral pyre on which his parent was laid, and that the ashes
which remained had been scattered with all proper ceremony upon the
waters of the sacred river.

'Of my friend the Yoghi I heard no more. Probably he wandered up
and over the Himalayas to some spot which he had chosen as a fitting
place for his body remains to lie in when the time came for him to
die.'