Mountains, range surmounting range
of glistening snow, a vision of dazzling white. All was set off by
the varying greens and browns of the rich Panjab Plain to the east
and south, the forests and fields of which lay mapped out before us,
and the River Beas a gleaming streak of silver meandering through
its fertile tracts. Reaching the river, we found that the toll-keeper
was on the farther side and the river itself unfordable. Asking the
boatmen whether we could cross without paying toll, as we had no means
of doing so, they said the only way was for one of us to cross over
and ask. We thought on our part that it would be better for both of
us to cross over and ask, and as the boatmen saw no objection to this,
we heaved our machines on board one of the boats and crossed over with
a number of camels and bullocks. Safely arrived on the other side,
we went to the toll-office and did what most Easterns do when they
are in a quandary--sat down and waited to see what would turn up. The
official in a leisurely way took the toll of all the passengers,
quadruped and biped alike, eyed us narrowly without speaking, and
then, in still more leisurely fashion, began to smoke his hookah. As
time passed we both became contemplative, he on the wreathing columns
of smoke from his pipe, I on the bucolic landscape around me. His
patience was the first to waver, and he broke the silence with:
"Now, Sadhu-ji, your pice."

"Indeed, I carry no such mundane articles."

"Then what right had you to cross the Sarkar's river in the Sarkar's
boat?"

"Indeed, our purpose was to crave a favour of your worthy self."

"What do you desire of me, O Sadhu-ji?"

"Merely that, as we are on a pilgrimage to India and have no money,
you would allow us to cross without paying toll; and as you were on
this side and we were on that, and nobody would take our message,
there was nothing for it but to come in person to ask the favour."

"Very well, Sadhu-ji, your request is granted, and may you remember
me."

As an instance of the reception we got in a Hindu village, I may
cite the case of one which we reached in the late afternoon in the
Sirhind district. Most of the men must have been working out in the
fields when we arrived, for we scarcely saw anyone as we wended our
way to what seemed the principal house in the village, and, sitting
down outside it, my companion began to sing a popular Indian hymn:
"Zara tak soch ai ghafil kih kya dam ka thikana nai"