Notice: I have written in other languages, many interesting articles that you
can read translated in English
in these links:
Part 1 and Part 2.


THE WITCHCRAFT THAT WAS PERFORMED IN THE NILGIRIS


The Nilgiris is a district in southern India and in this article, E. H. Morgan, wife of Major-General Henry Rhodes Morgan, recounts various experiences she had with witchcraft practiced in that region in the 19th century.


 
 
Having lived many years (30) on the Nilgiris, employing the various tribes of the Hills on my estates, and speaking their languages, I have had many opportunities of observing their manners and customs and the frequent practice of Demonology and Witchcraft among them. On the slopes of the Nilgiris live several semi-wild people:
 
1st, the “Curumbers,” who frequently hire themselves out to neighbouring estates, and are first-rate fellers of forest.
 
2nd, the “Tain” (“Honey Curumbers”), who collect and live largely on honey and roots, and who do not come into civilized parts.
 
3rd, the “Mulu” Curumbers, who are rare on the slopes of the hills, but common in Wynaad lower down the plateau. These use bows and arrows, are fond of hunting, and have frequently been known to kill tigers, rushing in a body on their game and discharging their arrows at a short distance. In their eagerness they frequently fall victims to this animal; but they are supposed to possess a controlling power over all wild animals, especially elephants and tigers; and the natives declare they have the power of assuming the forms of various beasts. Their aid is constantly invoked both by the Curumbers first named, and by the natives generally, when wishing to be revenged on an enemy.
 
Besides these varieties of Curumbers there arc various other wild tribes I do not now mention, as they are not concerned in what I have to relate.
 
 
I had on my estate near Ootacamund a gang of young Badágas, some 30 young men, whom I had had in my service since they were children, and who had become most useful handy fellows. From week to week I missed one or another of them, and on inquiry was told they had been sick and were dead!
 
One market-day I met the Moneghar of the village to which my gang belonged and some of his men, returning home laden with their purchases. The moment he saw me he stopped, and coming up to me, said, “Mother, I am in great sorrow and trouble, tell me what I can do!” “Why, what is wrong?” I asked. “All my young men are dying, and I cannot help them, nor prevent it; they are under a spell of the wicked Curumbers who are killing them, and I am powerless.” “Pray explain,” I said; “why do the Curumbers behave in this way, and what do they do to your people?”
 
“Oh, Madam, they are vile extortioners, always asking for money; we have given and given till we have no more to give. I told them we had no more money and then they said, —All right— as you please; we shall see. Surely as they say this, we know what will follow — at night when we are all asleep, we wake up suddenly and see a Curumber standing in our midst, in the middle of the room occupied by the young men.” “Why do you not close and bolt your doors securely?” I interrupted. “What is the use of bolts and bars to them? they come through stone walls. Our doors were secure, but nothing can keep out a Curumber. He points his finger at Mada, at Kurira, at Jogie — he utters no word, and as we look at him he vanishes! In a few days these three young men sicken, a low fever consumes them, their stomachs swell, they die. Eighteen young men, the flower of my village, have died thus this year. These effects always follow the visit of a Curumber at night.” “Why not complain to the Government?” I said. “Ah, no use, who will catch them?” “Then give them the 200 rupees they ask this once on a solemn promise that they exact no more.” “I suppose we must find the money somewhere,” he said, turning sorrowfully away.
 
 
A Mr. K____ is the owner of a coffee estate near this, and like many other planters employs Burghers. On one occasion he went down the slopes of the hills after bison and other large game, taking some seven or eight Burghers with him as gun carriers (besides other things necessary in jungle-walking—axes to clear the way, knives and ropes, etc.). He found and severely wounded a fine elephant with tusks. Wishing to secure these, he proposed following up his quarry, but could not induce his Burghers to go deeper and further into the forests; they feared to meet the “Mula Curumbers” who lived thereabouts.
 
For long he argued in vain, at last by dint of threats and promises he induced them to proceed, and as they met no one, their fears were allayed and they grew bolder, when suddenly coming on the elephant lying dead (oh, horror to them!), the beast was surrounded by a party of Mulu Curumbers busily engaged in cutting out the tusks, one of which they had already disengaged!
 
The affrighted Burghers fell back, and nothing Mr. K____ could do or say would induce them to approach the elephant, which the Curumbers stoutly declared was theirs. They had killed him they said. They had very likely met him staggering under his wound and had finished him off. Mr. K____ was not likely to give up his game in this fashion. So walking threateningly to the Curumbers he compelled them to retire, and called to his Burghers at the same time.
 
The Curumbers only said, “Just you dare to touch that elephant,” and retired. Mr. K____ thereupon cut out the remaining tusk himself, and slinging both on a pole with no little trouble, made his men carry them. He took all the blame on himself, showed them that they did not touch them, and finally declared he would stay there all night rather than lose the tusks.
 
The idea of a night near the Mulu Curumbers was too much for the fears of the Burghers, and they finally took up the pole and tusks and walked home. From that day those men, all but one who probably carried the gun, sickened, walked about like spectres, doomed, pale and ghastly, and before the month was out all were dead men, with the one exception!
 
 
A few months ago, at the village of Ebanaud, a few miles from this, a fearful tragedy was enacted. The Moneghar or headman’s child was sick unto death. This, following on several recent deaths, was attributed to the evil influences of a village of Curumbers hard by. The Burghers determined on the destruction of every soul of them. They procured the assistance of a Toda, as they invariably do on such occasions, as without one the Curumbers are supposed to be invulnerable. They proceeded to the Curumber village at night and set their huts on fire, and as the miserable inmates attempted to escape, flung them back into the flames or knocked them down with clubs.
 
In the confusion one old woman escaped unobserved into the adjacent bushes. Next morning she gave notice to the authorities, and identified seven Burghers, among whom was the Moneghar or headman, and one Toda. As the murderers of her people they were all brought to trial in the Courts here, —except the headman, who died before he could be brought in— and were all sentenced and duly executed, that is, three Burghers and the Toda, who were proved principals in the murders.
 
 
Two years ago an almost identical occurrence took place at Kotaghery, with exactly similar results, but without the punishment entailed having any deterrent effect. They pleaded “justification,” as witchcraft had been practised on them. But our Government ignores all occult dealings and will not believe in the dread power in the land.
 
They deal very differently with these matters in Russia, where, in a recent trial of a similar nature, the witchcraft was admitted as an extenuating circumstance and the culprits who had burnt a witch were all acquitted. All natives of whatever caste are well aware of these terrible powers and too often do they avail themselves of them — much oftener than any one has an idea of.
 
 
One day as I was riding along I came upon a strange and ghastly object — a basket containing the bloody head of a black sheep, a cocoanut, 10 rupees in money, some rice and flowers. These smaller items I did not see, not caring to examine any closer; but I was told by some natives that those articles were to be found in the basket.
 
The basket was placed at the apex of a triangle formed by three fine threads tied to three small sticks, so placed that any one approaching from the roads on either side had to stumble over the threads and receive the full effects of the deadly “Soonium” as the natives call it. On inquiry I learnt that it was usual to prepare such a “Soonium” when one lay sick unto death; as throwing it on another was the only means of rescuing the sick one, and woe to the unfortunate who broke a thread by stumbling over it!
 
 
(The Theosophist, September 1883, p.320)
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

No comments:

Post a Comment