THE MELA AT ALLAHABAD by H. R. Francis

Pacific Press Publishing Company · Oakland, California · Sep 10, 1894

FromSigns of the Times, Vol. 20, No. 44.

THE MELA AT ALLAHABAD.

By H. R. Francis

BY H. R. FRANCIS.

ALLAHABAD (City of God) was built by Hindus, and is held sacred by them. The confluences of the rivers Ganges and Jumna (about three miles distant) can be seen from the palace and fort. The water of each river is quite distinct in its own shade of color. Every year thousands of poor pilgrims visit the holy city to bathe in its waters. My heart sickens as I look back on a visit I recently paid to the mela, or fair, where I saw so much of the loathsomeness and superstition of heathendom. We started for it on the top of an elephant. After an hour's ride we came within sight of a long street of booths, or sheds, hastily put up for the sale of all sorts of wares, but principally for that of glass bottles of all sizes, for the reception of the sacred water of the Ganges, which is carried home by the returning pilgrims, and kept sacredly for many years.

Wending our way through the great concourse of people, we came to the banks of the river, along the side of which for some distance stood tall bamboos, with flags and gay-colored cloth flying from them. This marked the place for the bathers; here, too, the priests performed some ceremony every morning. On a higher part of the bank of the river is a place where a poor Hindu lived without ever leaving the spot for forty years. He died a short time ago, and now another man has taken his place. As we stood there, a poor woman came and crouched on the ground to worship. Groups of filthy beggars sat around, and poor lepers were crying in piteous tones for money.

We noticed a clean, good-looking young man, and, on accosting him, found he could speak fairly good English. I asked him about himself, and he told me he was a prince, but I have forgotten the name of his territory; he wanted to show me "the power of his God." He followed us closely, as we moved toward the most revolting scene I ever witnessed. Crossing the river by a bridge of boats, we came to the spot devoted to the fakirs.

Pen cannot describe this horror of heathen darkness and devildom. In rows were hundreds of these wretched creatures, some lying without any clothing, covered with (wood) ashes, their faces painted almost every other color, their hair matted with filth, some dancing wildly in front of us, some drugged with narcotics, all looking more like demons than men. On some of the stands in front of which these poor creatures lay were several long planks of wood with a forest of sharp iron points two inches long, so sharp that they must have been driven into the flesh of the devotees who recline upon them.

Retracing our steps, we saw multitudes, old and young alike, eagerly rushing into the Ganges, some throwing flowers into it, others drinking the waters, although many dead bodies are often seen floating down the stream, and the water was dark with mud and dirt. Presently we came to where the monkey god was lying, covering a space of about fifteen feet square. Money was placed upon its hideous limbs. Throngs of people touched it, and, being composed of red clay, the red substance was transferred to the fingers, and from thence to the forehead of the worshiper. The "prince" still followed us, and we noticed as he came in contact with a priest he stooped down and kissed his feet. We spoke to him of the Lord Jesus, the only Saviour, but his sensibilities seemed deadened, and I fear the message of grace and love had little in it to charm him. We turned away, sickened, for we could do so little for these deluded ones. Yet thousands of Christians, living at home in gospel lands, could reach multitudes here if they would only come.

Think of twelve hundred natives passing into eternity every hour. What a well-known missionary says of China might with equal truth be applied to India: "See there men and women ignorantly bowing down before fierce monsters called idols,—these black, foul fiends of painted wood, mud, and stone,—torturing themselves with loathsome penances, with debaucheries unspeakable, well-nigh unthinkable, holding religious carnival, and giving the rein to every most revolting instinct of degraded and savage nature; look at it, and try to feel, if you can, how awful it must be in the sight of the holy, loving God and Father." I have told the story of this visit. Who will read it, and ponder the question, What can I do to evangelize the millions of India?—The Christian.