If devotion to the fair sex be admitted as a criterion of civilization, the Rajpoot must rank high. His susceptibility is extreme, and fires at the s… - James Tod

On the western side is the shrine of Achil-eswar, the tutelary divinity of Aboo. There is nothing striking as to magnitude, and still less as to decoration, in this, but it possesses a massive simplicity which guarantees its antiquity. It occupies the center of a quadrangle, surrounded by smaller fanes, alike primitive in form, and built of blocks of blue slate. But it is the object of worship which confers celebrity, being nothing less than the great toe of the devil, for so we must translate Patal-eswar, the Lord of Hell. On entering, the eye is attracted by a statue of the mountain nymph, Mera, the wife of this multiform divinity, which, at first sight, appears to be the object of adoration; and it is only on stooping to look into a deep fissure of the rock, termed the Brimh-khar, that the bright nail of Siva is visible, which has attracted homage from myriads of votaries from the remotest ages. In front of the temple is a brass bull, of colossal size, bearing the marks of violence on his flanks, the hammer of the barbarian having penetrated them in search of treasure, Mahomed Beyra, Padsha or king of Ahmedabad, has the credit of this sacrilege; but whether it was rewarded by the discovery of any secret hoard, is not told: though the legend details the manifestation of Siva’s wrath upon the “barbarian king” for the ill-treatment of his favorite. In descending from Aboo, after the reduction of Achilgurh, his banners “fanned by Conquest’s crimson wing,” confusion waited on them from an unlooked-for source. A legion of bees, issuing from their pinnacled retreats, attacked and pursued the invaders even to Jhalore. To commemorate this victory over the spoiler, the name of Bhomar-t’hal, or ‘Bees Valley,’ was given to the spot. A temple was erected, and from the captured arms thrown away in their flight, a vast tridanta (trident) was formed, and placed in front of the divinity who thus avenged the insult to Nanda.

SIDPOOR – JUNE 20th – In the infancy of our geography of India, the illustrious D’ Anville said of this city, “ville qui tire son nom des Shites, ou toiles peintes, qui s’y fabriquent;” but it boasts of a more dignified etymology, being called after its patron, the Balhara prince, Sid-Rae. By some he is supposed to be the founder, but there is every reason to believe that he was only the renovator, of this place, the position of which on the Sarasvati, flowing from the shrine of Ambabhavani, is well-chosen. Here are the remains of what in past ages must have been one of the grandest efforts of Hindu architecture, a temple dedicated to Siva, and termed Roodra-Mala, or ‘the chaplet of Roodra,’ the god of battle; but so disjointed are the fragments, that it is difficult to imagine what it may have been as a whole. They are chiefly portions of porticoes, one of which tradition names the prostyle of the munduff, or vaulted mansion occupied by the bull, companion of Roodra, whose sanctum was converted into a mosque. It is said to have been a rectangular building, five stories in height, and if we may judge from one portion yet remaining, this could not have been less than one hundred feet…I found two inscriptions, from one of which I learned that it was commenced by Raja Moolraj [the founder of the Solankhi dynasty of Anhilwara], in S. 998 [A.D. 942], and from the other that it was finished by Sid-Raj…A couplet records its destruction by All-u-din – “In S. 1353 [A.D. 1297], came the barbarian Alla: the Roodra-Mala he levelled, “carrying destruction amongst the lords of men.”

But the magnitude of the peril confirmed the fortitude of Partap, who vowed, in the words of the bard, “to make his mother’s milk resplendent”; and he amply redeemed his pledge. Single-handed, for a quarter of a century did he withstand the combined efforts of the empire; at one time carrying destruction into the plains, at another flying from rock to rock, feeding his family from the fruits of his native hills, and rearing the nursling hero Amra, amidst savage beasts and scarce less savage men, a fit heir to his prowess and revenge. The bare idea that “the son of Bappa Rawal should bow the head to mortal man,” was insupportable; and he spurned every overture which had submission for its basis, or the degradation of uniting his family by marriage with the Tatar, though lord of countless multitudes. The brilliant acts he achieved during that period live in every valley; they are enshrined in the heart of every true Rajput, and many are recorded in the annals of the conquerors. To recount them all, or relate the hardships he sustained, would be to pen what they would pronounce a romance who had not traversed the country where tradition is yet eloquent with his exploits, or conversed with the descendants of his chiefs, who cherish a recollection of the deeds of their forefathers, and melt, as they recite them, into manly tears. Partap was nobly supported; and though wealth and fortune tempted the fidelity of his chiefs, not one was found base enough to abandon him.