The Curse of Lord Someshwar..

सोमेश्वर देवता का श्राप ..

A sequel to the story of 'Pahadi' Wilson and Gulabo

 (http://rishovbiswas.blogspot.in/2011/05/pahadi-wilson-and-gulabo.html)

“In loving memory of Frederick Wilson

who died on 21^st 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 2^nd, 1853 – July 21^st 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