Chapter Four

When Nabakumar awoke, the night was far spent. That a tiger had not yet slain him, seemed to him a marvel. Looking about him on this side and on that, he searched whether any tiger were approaching. Of a sudden, in the distance before him, he beheld a light. Lest it were some illusion of the eye, Nabakumar set his mind upon it and gazed long. The circle of the light, by degrees, widened and grew brighter — and he was assured that it was the light of fire. With that assurance, the hope of life was rekindled in Nabakumar. Without the presence of man this light could not be; for this was not the season of forest fires. "Could it be," he thought, "some spectral fire? — even so it might be; yet what life is saved by holding back through fear?" Thus reasoning, with an undaunted heart, he made toward the light. Tree, creeper, and sandhill at every step opposed his going. Treading down tree and creeper, climbing across the sandhills, Nabakumar pressed onward. Drawing near the light, he saw that upon the crest of an exceeding lofty sandhill a fire was burning, and by its blaze a human form, seated upon the summit, was to be seen against the sky like a picture set against a curtain. Resolving in his mind to come close to that seated man, he hastened on with unabated speed. Then he began to climb the sand-mound. Then some little fear arose in him; nevertheless, with unshaken footstep, he ascended. Coming up before the seated man, what he saw made his hair stand on end. Whether he should stand his ground or go back, he could not determine.

The man upon the summit was meditating, with his eyes closed; at first he did not perceive Nabakumar. Nabakumar saw that his age might be about fifty years. Whether or no there was upon him any garment of cotton could not be discerned; from his waist to his knees he was covered with a tiger-skin. About his neck was a rosary of rudraksha-beads; his large countenance was beset round with shaggy hair and matted locks. Before him a fire burned upon wood — by the light of which Nabakumar had been able to come to that place. A foul and noxious stench fell upon Nabakumar's senses; casting his glance upon the seat of the man, he understood whence it came. The matted-hair one was seated upon the headless, half-rotten corpse of a man. With yet more dread he saw that before him lay a human skull, and within it a fluid of red colour. Round about, in this place and in that, lay scattered bones; nay, even within the rudraksha-beads which hung upon the yogi's neck were strung small fragments of bone. Nabakumar stood as if spellbound. Whether to go forward or to depart, he could not tell. He had heard of the Kapaliks. He understood that this man was a Kapalik.

When Nabakumar came thither, the Kapalik was sunk in the practice of his mantras, his murmured prayer, or his meditation; he raised not so much as an eyebrow at sight of Nabakumar. After a great while he asked, "Who art thou?" Nabakumar answered, "A Brahmin."

The Kapalik said, "Stand." Saying so, he resumed his former office. Nabakumar stood there.

In this wise half a watch went by. At length the Kapalik rose up, and in Sanskrit as before said unto Nabakumar, "Follow thou me."

It may with certainty be said, that at any other time Nabakumar would in no wise have been this man's companion. But now his life lay in his throat for hunger and thirst. He therefore answered, "As my lord commandeth. But I am sore wearied with hunger and thirst. Be pleased to direct me where I may have somewhat to eat."

The Kapalik said, "By Bhairavi art thou sent unto me; follow me; thy contentment shall be."

Nabakumar followed the Kapalik. The two of them traversed a long way; upon the path neither spake any word to the other. At length they reached a hut of leaves. The Kapalik first entered, and bade Nabakumar enter likewise; and, by some means beyond Nabakumar's understanding, kindled fire upon a piece of wood. By the light thereof Nabakumar saw that the hut was wrought wholly of leaves. Within it were certain tiger-skins, and a pitcher of water and some roots and fruits.

The Kapalik, having kindled the fire, said, "Such roots and fruits as there be, mayest thou take to thyself. Make for thyself a cup of leaves and drink of the water in the pitcher. There be tiger-skins; if thou hast a mind, lie down. Abide here without fear — dread not the tiger. In due time I shall again see thee. Until I come to thee, leave not this hut."

So saying, the Kapalik departed. Nabakumar, having eaten of those poor roots and fruits and drunk of that slightly bitter water, attained to great contentment. Then he lay down upon the tiger-skin, and by reason of the day's weariness was quickly overcome with sleep.