सोमेश्वर देवता का श्राप ..
A sequel to the story of 'Pahadi' Wilson and Gulabo
“In loving memory of Frederick Wilson
who died on 21st July, 1883
aged 66 years and 7
months.”
Read the epitaph on
an old, crumbling tombstone in the oldest English cemetery in Mussoorie. I had
walked more than a mile along the Camelsback road to reach the graveyard. It
was a chilly, rainy September evening. The cemetery stood on a nondescript,
steep slant along the end of a cliff. There were no fences and most of the headstones
lay in a dilapidated state, covered in years of moss and creepers. A chilly
breeze went past my face accompanied with the feeble noise of a drizzle on
rustling leaves. It was getting dark and eerie. I flashed across my torch
through the inscriptions on the graves, wiping the years of mud and dirt. And there
it was- The evidence of Wilson’s death on a grave in a cemetery in Mussoorie.
Ever since my visit to Harsil,
Uttarakhand three years back, I had been deeply intrigued by the character of ‘Pahadi’
Wilson. During my stay there, I heard numerous accounts of his life from the
villagers of Mukhba and Harsil. Post his marriage to Gulabo, the beautiful,
local girl from Mukhba, Harsil went through a phase of unprecedented economic
prosperity. Wilson plundered through the higher reaches of the Himalayas for
timber, musk, plumes and exotic species of plants and wildlife. Logs of timber
were transported for sale through the Bhagirathi river. Snow leopards were
killed indiscriminately for their fur and a massive number of musk deer were
hunted for meat and musk. Wilson’s businesses flourished to such an extent that
he minted his own coin, the Wilson rupee, in the region to replace the age old
barter system. Wilson also introduced apple seeds, potatoes and green beans in
the region of Harsil and beyond. During this phase, his wife Gulabo came to be
known as ‘Rajmata’ while Wilson was hailed as the undisputed ‘Raja of Harsil’.
Rajmata also bore Wilson three sons by the name of Nathanial, Charles and Henry.
The villagers also informed me that Wilson often went to Mussoorie during
summers, riding his horse, in disguise, to meet his British wife and son.
As years went by, there was a
growing voice of dissent against the Raja of Harsil. Over the years, villagers
had mastered the art of living in harmony with the Himalayas. However, the
sight of the denuded forests and the mindless squandering of natural resources
did not go well with many of the local villagers. Still, the disquiet never
turned into a protest against ‘Pahadi’ Wilson – not until the ‘Selku’ festival
of the autumn of 1865.
The Selku festival is celebrated
in the ‘Bhadon’ month in Mukhba every year. Men and women sing and dance to
express their gratitude to Lord Someshwar (incarnation of Lord Shiva) and Goddess
Nanda Devi (manifestation of Goddess Parvati, residing in the twin peaks of
Nanda Devi in the Himalayas). The festival culminates in a day long fair and a
special ritual in reverence of the Gods. During the ritual, Lord Someshwara and
Goddess Parvati appear in bodily form through some blessed, chosen villagers. What
follows next are unimaginable, extraordinary feats like walking bare feet on razor
sharp swords and reciting of the most ancient Shlokas of Sanskrit. Every year,
a new set of locals are chosen by the Gods from among the gathering of the
villagers of Mukhba to take the form of the revered Gods and Goddesses. Researchers
and tourists often come to see the ritual out of sheer curiosity but return
awestruck and dumbfounded – unable to find a scientific explanation for what
they just witnessed.
Like every year, Wilson, the
Raja of Harsil was invited for the Selku festival in the autumn of 1865. Being
the revered son-in-law of Mukhba, a grand reception was organized for him.
However, as the great-great grand nephew of ‘Rajmata’ Gulabo narrated to me the
events of the last day of the festival, I was overcome with growing astonishment,
doubt, belief and disbelief again. Folklore has it, as Pahadi Wilson sat on his
royal throne watching the ritual of the last day, Lord Someshwar appeared in
the human form through the mortal body of Wilson’s servant. Speaking in the
voice of the Lord himself, he instructed ‘Pahadi’ Wilson to immediately stop
the plundering of Harsil and threatened him with dire consequences if he chose
not to. Enraged and infuriated, the egoist in Frederick Wilson awoke from his
slumber. Overcome with uncontrollable wrath, he stood up from his throne and
thrashed the poor servant. What the crowd witnessed thereafter was something
that is still etched in the memory of every inhabitant of Mukhba. Lord
Someshwar stood up in anger and cursed the great ‘Pahadi’ Wilson – “Your
lineage will sink into oblivion. None of your sons will live to continue your
race. You will die an unhealthy, sick man”. Rajmata burst into a fit of tears,
yet, all the villagers knew, the damage had been done.
Tragedy struck Wilson in the
beginning of the next year. His youngest son Henry died by falling into a deep
gorge while trying to cross the Bhairon ghati bridge near Gangotri. Later on, eye
witnesses said that he lost his balance from his horse while trying to hunt a
wild boar in the hills. His body was recovered many miles away near Uttarkashi,
flown by the mighty Ganges. Owing to the sharp boulders and stones, his face
was smashed beyond recognition. In the same year, his son Charles went
untraceable in the forests of Tapovan in the upper reaches of Gaumukh. In the
coming years, Wilson decided to hand over the management of his multiple
businesses to his eldest son, Nathanial. However, Nathanial had already taken
to marijuana, drugs and alcohol. Villagers say he was convicted of murder and
imprisoned by the British army. Nobody heard about him ever again. Before the
death of his eldest son, at the behest of Rajmata Gulabo, Wilson tried to
revert the curse of Lord Someshwar by offering his remorse through yajnas. However, every priest in the
region declined his requests.
Devastated and depressed, ‘Pahadi’
Wilson grew extremely frail and weak. His vision was partly blurred because of
cataract in his left eye. In the year 1879, he left Harsil on his horse to meet
his wife and son in Mussoorie. What occurred after that was something that is
not known to the villagers of Harsil and Mukhba. In search of evidence of
Wilson and his lineage, I visited the city of Mussoorie in the autumn of 2012.
One of the most famous authors residing near Landour, at a steep incline of
2000 feet from Mussoorie, informed me about the cemetery on Camelsback raod
where Wilson had been buried. Around five tombstones away from where Wilson had
been buried, I came across another almost illegible inscription on a grave –
“In loving memory of Jefferson E. Wilson
Son of Frederick Wilson
August 2nd,
1853 – July 21st 1883
Aged 29 years, 11 months”
Later, I came to
know that Wilson’s son from his British wife became mentally deranged and cut
his own veins. Wilson died of a strange, inexplicable disease the same night.
Locals informed me that his eyes turned blue and tears of blood had flown
through them that fateful night. He could never escape the curse of Lord
Someshwar. His British wife spent the remaining years of her life in solitude
in an estate called the Astley Hall in Dehradun.
The Selku Festival Mukhba - Video
The Selku Festival Mukhba - Video
