Peeps at Many Lands—India

CHAPTER XIII

ACROSS THE DECCAN

The southern part of India is shaped like a huge triangle, and within its coasts lies a vast triangular plateau, the Deccan. In the fierce heats of summer this huge tableland lies flat and grey beneath the burning sun, save where there is water. Then village after village of tiny huts thatched with palm-leaves cluster along the banks of river or lake, and the water is lifted by every kind of ancient device and poured over the thirsty land.

Water is all this rich soil needs. Given enough of the precious fluid, the soil covers itself thickly with crops of cotton, tobacco, rice, millet, saffron, and castor-oil plant. Everywhere the land swarms with oxen, a sure sign of the people's wealth.

We are now in the territory of Hyderabad, the greatest native State in India, ruled over by the Nizam, the chief native Prince. This capital city lies towards the south of the State, and is one of the most interesting cities in India, not so much for its beauty or its buildings, but for its life and, above all, for its military population. Hyderabad is the paradise of irregular troops, and it is also rich in regulars. Of the latter there are some thousands of British troops, and 30,000 who serve the Nizam himself; of irregulars, no man knows the number, for every noble and chief maintains a private army of his own, just as our barons did in feudal times.

It follows, then, that the streets of Hyderabad bear the appearance of a military camp. Every other man is armed to the teeth, and scarcely two alike in weapons or uniform. A figure in turban and embroidered robes, a girdle full of daggers, and a six-foot-long jezail over his shoulder, is followed by a man in trim khaki, and the latter by a trooper in burnished breastplate and helmet of polished steel. A lancer with long spear swinging from his arm jogs by, and the next horseman carries a great scimitar; and so the medley of figures and weapons passes by – rifles and matchlocks, bayonets and tulwars, chain-mail and shields of hide.

But among the swarms of irregulars, the Arab troops stand out by themselves. The Nizams are Moslem rulers, and to provide themselves with Moslem troops have done much recruiting in Arabia. The desert warriors with their rough, stern, dark features, their spare, stalwart frames, their robes of snowy white, their triple row of daggers across their bodies, look very different from the gaily-dressed, olive-faced, handsome soldiery who are native-born. The Arabs are as stern and rough as they look. More than once they have got out of hand, and it has been a question whether the Nizam ruled them or they the Nizam.

To the south-east of Hyderabad the province of Madras stretches along the shore of the Bay of Bengal. This province is famous in the history of British India. It saw the struggles between the English and the French for the mastery of the land; it saw the victories of Clive which raised him to power; it saw the rise of English authority. The chief town is Madras, a large but not a striking city, especially when seen from the sea. As the traveller approaches by steamer he sees a lofty lighthouse, a few spires, rows of tall offices and public buildings, and Fort St. George – nothing more. His vessel does not enter a bay, but a roadstead; for Madras lies upon an open stretch of coast which is at times swept by hurricanes of terrible fury. Yet, in spite of this situation, Madras ranks as the third port of India, and has a great trade. Some protection is now given to vessels by a couple of breakwaters forming a harbour.

The most interesting place in the city is Fort St. George, for here the East India Company first gained its footing in India in 1639. The fort was begun in the same year, and this was the first step taken in the path which led to British supremacy in India.

The native part of the city is known as Black Town, and is a dense mass of poorly-built native houses crowded along narrow streets, and thickly packed with Hindoo inhabitants. The European suburbs lie to the west o Black Town, and, as at other great centres, consist of fine mansions standing in spacious compounds.

To the south of Madras lies a country containing cities where some of the mightiest temples in India may be seen. Of these cities Trichinopoli and its great temple of Srirangam may be taken as an example. The temple of Srirangam is not merely, like the other temples of Southern India, of immense size; it is the largest temple in India. Its enclosure measures about half a mile each way. It stands on an island in the River Cauvery to the north of Trichinopoli, and is a vast building which must have cost immense labour and a huge sum of money.

The chief features of this mighty temple are the Hall of a Thousand Pillars and the Horse Court, which forms the front of the hall. The Horse Court consists of eight pillars carved into the figures of horses, each pillar "representing a stallion standing on its hind-legs, its head supporting a bracket coming forward from the pillar, and its fore-feet resting on a monster attacked by the rider or on the shield of a foot-soldier who is assisting in the attack. The horses stand in other respects free from the pillars except at the tails, which are split, or rather doubled, so that each horse has two tails, one sculptured on each side of the pillar. The horses, the figures, and the columns behind are carved from a single block of granite." So great is this temple that lofty trees flourish in its enclosure, and it is said that the priestly families who inhabit it number more than twenty thousand people.

In this part of India the fondness of the women for silver jewellery seems to be greater than elsewhere, if that be possible. Not only are they loaded with the usual rings, bracelets, armlets, and anklets, but they pierce the nose in three places to adorn it with trinkets. In each nostril a sort of brooch is fastened, and the centre of the nose is pierced to insert a large ring, which hangs down over the mouth. A large hole is opened in the lobe of the ear to hold a heavy ring as big as a bracelet, and in one district a great ear-lobe is considered a mark of beauty. It is said that women may be seen, the lobes of whose ears have been stretched and pulled out in such a manner that the owner can thrust her hand and wrist through the opening.

CHAPTER XIV

AT THE COURT OF A NATIVE PRINCE

An English traveller in India who enjoys the opportunity of paying a visit to the Court of a native Prince, often gets a glimpse of a life which has seen very little change for many hundreds of years. The native Prince himself may be fond of slipping off to London or Paris, where nothing marks him off from any other wealthy visitor save his dark brown skin, but at home he keeps the state of his forefathers, and the costume and customs of his Court may be just the same to-day as they were when Saxon and Norman were fighting at Senlac.

A state function at such a Court, for instance, as that of the ruler of Udaipur is a most splendid ceremony, and an English visitor of consequence will attend it in the company of the British Resident. The latter is the agent of the British Government. No native Prince is allowed to exercise the absolute power his fathers once held. At every native capital there is a residency, and here lives the man who is the real power behind the native throne, the representative of the British Raj.

The journey to the palace will be made upon elephants in howdahs carved and gilded and hung with rich curtains. On the neck of the elephant sits the driver in a bright dress, holding in his hand a short spear, ending in a hook and a shining point. When the riders are seated in the howdah, the driver urges the elephant forward with voice and spear, and guides him through the streets. An elephant procession through the streets of a native city is one of the noblest sights which can be seen or imagined. Two by two the huge, stately beasts, with their ponderous swaying stride, swing along between the rows of houses, whose gaily adorned flat tops and terraces and balconies are crowded by spectators in newly-washed robes of every colour which is bright, and fresh, and gay. Here and there in the procession float glittering standards of silk worked in gold and precious stones, and the gay dress of the drivers, the richly-decorated howdahs, the splendid draperies which almost conceal the great elephants, all shining and flashing in the sun, present a wonderful picture of beautiful and stately movement.

As the procession draws near the palace the way is guarded by native troops, and these exhibit another striking scene. Their ranks do not present the monotony of Western uniforms. Each band of the Prince's body-guard wears the dress of that part of his dominions whence it was drawn, and a bewildering variety of garbs and arms may be seen. One troop is dressed like the Saracens who fought in the Crusades. They wear armour of chain mail and glittering steel helmets, and carry lances and great curved scimitars. Next, the line is guarded by warriors in massive turbans, clothed in robes of rich stuffs, and armed with sword, spear, and shield, and with quaint firelocks slung over the shoulder. Next stand men in gleaming breastplates, whose helmets are sharply pointed, and whose girdles are stuffed with daggers and pistols. Others bear huge maces or heavy axes, and, in fine, almost every weapon with which man has ever waged war may be seen in the lines of stalwart warriors who keep the way.

At the palace itself the outer halls are filled with the nobles and chiefs who owe allegiance to the Prince. They are armed and equipped like their followers without, but in more splendid fashion. Jewels glitter and glow on great silken turbans; robes are stiff with gold and costly embroidery; girdles are heavy with weapons, whose handles are richly chased and set with diamonds and rubies; pearls and emeralds and sapphires flash from necklet or armlet.

Through these the visitors pass on to inner halls, where they are received by members of the reigning family and escorted to the hall of audience.

Here, in a noble chamber, the Prince will be seated in state on a splendid throne. On either side stand attendants, waving fans made of feathers or of horsehair. The latter are only used to fan a Prince, and are the emblems of sovereignty.

The English guests are seated on chairs, and the nobles and chiefs, who have followed them into the room, seat themselves on the beautiful carpets spread over the floor. All except the guests are barefooted, for the native company have left their gilded slippers outside the chamber.

The Prince and his guests converse, and very often presents are given and offered – shawls, silks, brocade, or jewels. Perhaps nautch-girls will come in and dance. They wear robes of shining gauze from head to foot, and they dance with slow, graceful movements, often singing as they move.

At last the Prince calls for essence of roses with the leaf of the betel-nut, and this is the signal that the interview is over. Now the guests will be conducted over the palace, to see the public rooms and courts; but the zenana, the women's apartments, are never shown; nor is the visitor supposed even to glance towards the lattices and trellised windows, behind which the native ladies are probably having a good look at him. The evening will close with a grand illumination and display of fireworks, managed with the utmost skill. From a terrace, so placed that the dark smooth mirror of a lake lies between himself and the illuminations, the visitor looks upon a fairy scene. The pavilions, the courts, the balconies, the lines of the palace itself, will be picked out in points of fire, and the whole is mirrored in the water. Then the fireworks leap into the sky – rockets, great globes of many colours, fountains spouting golden fire, and pictures of forts outlined in flame and firing heavy broadsides from mimic cannon. Finally the visitor climbs the ladder set against the side of his elephant, while the band blares out, "God Save the King," and goes home to dream of the wonderful things he has seen, and to try to disentangle the host of pictures which dance before his eyes when he reflects upon his visit to a native Court.

CHAPTER XV

THE RELIGIOUS MENDICANTS

India is the land of religious mendicants. They swarm in every part of it; they are seen moving along the country roads and in the streets of villages and towns; they flock around every shrine.

Some are simply wanderers; they have abandoned all earthly goods, have left their homes, and taken their place among the poorest. Smearing themselves with ashes, their only garment a wisp of rag – and this they wear simply because the police will not let them go without it – they ramble from holy place to holy place. "Naked, homeless, he eats only when food is offered to him, drinks only from the cup of cold water which is given in the name of the Lord."

Many of these men have been rich and powerful members of the society in which they moved. Then a day came when they laid aside their robes of muslin and silk embroidered with gold; they left their great houses filled with troops of servants; without a word they slipped away from wife, from children, from friends, and the place they had filled knew them no more. They had gone to wander far and wide through the vast plains, the mighty hills of India – strange, naked, wild-looking figures, unwashed, unshorn, looking the veriest outcasts of the earth.

Why is this done? For this reason. They feel deeply the vanity of earthly things; they believe that the more one can get rid of the needs and the wants of the body, the nearer he will get to the Divine. So they cast aside everything which pampers the body and makes this life sweet, and forsake all things of this world in favour of prayer and meditation.

It is not uncommon to meet a man who has the air of a naked, half-crazy savage, and to find that man capable of arguing in the most able manner on the highest topics. Mrs. Steel remarks: "They are often extremely well educated. They will knock a false argument into a cocked hat with easy ability. Some of them – these naked savages – will astonish you by quoting Herbert Spencer; for even nowadays they are recruited from all classes, and they belong by rights to the most thoughtful of each class." Such men as these belong, of course, to the highest order of the religious mendicants. The majority of their fellows are of a much lower order, but one and all they practise poverty and live only upon alms.

Many of them, of the fakir class, practise all kinds of self-torture upon themselves. One, perhaps, has held up his arm above his head for so many years that it is now immovable, and stands straight up from his shoulder, thin and shrunken, and as stiff as a piece of wood. Another has held his fingers close shut in his palm until the nails have grown through the flesh and stand out at the back of the hand. A third has lain for many years on a bed of spikes, until his skin, hard as horn, renders so uneasy a bed no discomfort. There are fakirs who have not stood upright once in forty years. They travel by crawling, and as their cry rings along the village street, the pious hasten to bring them a handful of rice or a cup of water. It would be useless to offer them better fare; they would refuse it. An account is given of one fakir who sat so long without moving at the foot of a tree that the roots grew around him and fettered him to his place.

Many observers have been extremely puzzled by certain powers which these fakirs possess. Fakirs have been seen to walk across a row of upturned knife-blades, each blade sharpened to the keenest edge, yet no sign of injury could be perceived on the naked foot. Another will climb a ladder formed of a single pole, from the sides of which well-sharpened sickles stand out to form the rungs. The fakir climbs to the top and descends. He rests his naked hands and feet upon the keen edges, and no cut, no mark can be seen; or he walks, still barefoot, over stones raised to white heat in a furnace. These feats have been performed in the presence of English gentlemen of high standing in the official world – men who have taken such precautions that they were perfectly certain that the feats were genuine – but they have been utterly unable to explain how the things were done. And, finally, the fakir has obtained such mastery of himself that he can be buried alive, being left for a time in his living grave, and restored to life again.

CHAPTER XVI

IN THE BAZAAR

What is a bazaar in India? It is, first of all, the quarter where the shopkeepers are gathered together, where the tiny shops stand in close-packed rows on either side of the narrow ways, and whither all who have money flock to spend it. But it is more than that. It is the place to which those who have no money resort just as freely, for here ebbs and flows in one unending flood the news, the rumours, the gossip of the town and country.

All day long an Indian bazaar is filled with throngs of buyers, sellers, newsmongers, idle loungers, merchants, sightseers – all the flotsam and jetsam of the city. It is always a scene of wonderful colour and movement. The sun strikes into the dusty ways on turbans of red, green, and orange; on robes of white, pink and blue; on petticoats of rose and saffron; on the bronze bodies of almost naked coolies who march along beneath their loads. People of every colour – white, brown, black, yellow – jostle each other in the crowded ways, and there is a bewildering variety of tint and form in the striking and picturesque scene.

The shops are, as a rule, of the simplest nature in form – an archway, a booth, a hole in a wall. Upon a low platform the trader spreads his wares, squats beside them, and waits for customers. Let us stroll along a row of shops and see what they have for sale. The first shop has a crowd of customers, for it is a confectioner's, and the Hindoo, big or little, old or young, has a very sweet tooth. The confectioner spreads his wares on tiers of shelves or on a counter made of dried mud and rising in steps, and at the back of his shop is a sugar-boiling furnace, where he is busy on fresh supplies, pulling candy or making cakes of batter fried in butter. He sells toffee covered with silver-leaf, candy flavoured with spices, and many kinds of a sweet called luddu, made of sugar and curded milk. This stall is not only a great attraction to the children who have a pie (about one-third of an English farthing) to spend, but to the flies also. The latter come in myriads to settle on the sweet stuff, and though a boy is always at work with a whisk trying to drive them away, he can never keep the place clear.

Opposite the confectioner's is the flour-seller, and he, too, is a very busy man, for from his stall the everyday wants of the people are supplied. Great numbers of the Hindoos never touch meat, and the bunniah (the grain-seller) furnishes the whole of their food. He has a great number of baskets, and these are piled high with barley, wheat, lentils, flour, sugar, peas, rice, potatoes, nuts, dried fruits, and the like. He also sells ghee (clarified butter) and sour milk. He has a big pair of scales to weigh out his flour, sugar, peas, or whatever may be called for, but no bags to pack them in: he leaves that to the customers. One brings a cloth, another a basin, another a brass ewer for milk. Many have nothing, and they carry away their purchases in their hands, or, if that be impossible, flour is poured into the corner of a shawl or the fold of a robe. One man unwraps his turban and knots his purchases into various corners of it, twists it into shape again, and goes off with his day's supply on his head. Butter and milk are carried away in a green leaf dexterously twisted into the form of a cup.

The next shop is one which finds the grain-seller a very convenient neighbour, for it is a shop which sells parched grain – a bhunja's shop. At first glance there seems nothing in the place, then you notice a large shallow pan set on a mud platform. Under the pan a fire burns, and a woman steadily feeds the fire with dry leaves and husks. A second woman is stirring the corn in the pan, and as the grain parches and crackles a delicious smell fills the place, and passers-by sniff it, and stop and throw down a small copper coin on the mud platform, which is also the counter. Then they hold out their hands or a fold of a robe, and receive the sweet-smelling parched wheat or maize, and go on, munching as they walk.