120 
V. S. Growse —Mathura Motes. 
[No. 2, 
probably also a very licentious character ; but my ears were not offended, 
for in the general din it was impossible to distinguish a single word. Hand- 
fulls of red powder (abir) mixed with tiny particles of glistening talc were 
thrown about, up to the balconies above and down on the heads of the peo¬ 
ple below, and seen through this atmosphere of coloured cloud, the frantic 
gestures of the throng, their white clothes and faces all stained with red 
and yellow patches, and the great timbrels with bunches of peacocks’ 
feathers, artificial flowers and tinsel stars stuck in their rim, borne above 
the players’ heads, and now and again tossed up high in the air, combined 
to form a curious and picturesque spectacle. After the music came a posse 
of rustics each bearing a rough jagged branch of the prickly acacia, stript 
of its leaves, and in their centre one man with a small yellow pennon on a 
long staff, yellow being the colour appropriate to the Spring season and the 
god of Love. The whole party slowly made its way through the village 
to an open plain outside, where the crowd assembled cannot have numbered 
less than 15,000. Here a circular arena was cleared and about a hundred 
of the Bathen Jatnis were drawn up in a line, each with a long bambu in 
her hands, and confronting them an equal number of the bow-men who 
are all from the neighbouring village of Jau. A sham fight ensued, the 
women trying to beat down the thorny bushes and force their way to the 
flag. A man or two got a cut in the face, but the most perfect good 
humour prevailed, except when an outsider from some other village 
attempted to join in the play; he was at once hustled out with kicks and 
blows that meant mischief. The women were backed up by their own 
husbands, who stood behind and encouraged them by word, but did not 
move a hand to strike. When it was all over, many of the spectators ran 
into the arena, and rolled over and over in the dust, or streaked themselves 
with it on the forehead, taking it as the dust hallowed by the feet of Krish¬ 
na and the Gopis. 
The forenoon had been devoted to the recitation of Hindi poems ap¬ 
propriate to the occasion. I was not on the spot in time enough to hear 
any of this, but with some difficulty I obtained for a few days the loan of 
the volume that was used, and have copied from it three short pieces. The 
actual MS. is of no greater antiquity than 1776 A. D., the colophon at the 
end, in the curious mixture of Sanskrit and Hindi affected by village pandits, 
standing thus : 
Sambat 1852 Bhadrapad sudi 2 dwitiya, rabibar, likhitam idam 
pustakam, Sri Gopal Das Charan-Pahari # -madhye parhan arthi Sri Seva 
Das Bari Bathain vasi: 
* Charan-Pahari is the name of a small detached rock, of the same character as the 
Bliaratpur range, that crops up above the ground in the village of Little Bathen. 
