CHAPTER XIANANTA THE SEEKER
Therehave often been learned Hindu men who have lost their faith in idols, and the story of one of these has so much to do with the lives of many children in India to-day, that we must not miss it out.
Ananta Shastri was a seeker for the King of India, though he did not know it; and his daughter Ramabai is now helping hundreds of little girls to find Him.
Many Hindus think that no woman ought to be allowed to learn to read or to write, or to study the sacred books. Even if a husband is a learned man, he cannot talk much to his wife about the things that interest him, because she would not know what he meant.
Ananta Shastri was a very able man, and he did notthink that it was a good plan to keep girls ignorant, but it was not easy for one man to do much to change this custom of the Hindus. One day, as he was travelling, he met another Brahman. The second man had a little daughter, nine years of age, with him, whose name was Lakshmibai, and before the two Brahmans parted they had arranged that Ananta would take the child home with him to be his wife.
The marriage day is generally a very gay one, and sometimes the brightness and the excitement help to make the little wife forget that she will have to leave her own home, and all those whom she has loved, and go away with a stranger, to be under the rule of her mother-in-law or aunts-in-law. But there were no marriage gaieties for Lakshmibai. She was handed over to Ananta, and went away with him, and she never saw her father or mother again. But though the case seemed a very hard one, her lot was really much better than a child wife’s often is, even when all sorts of gaieties and feasting take place, for Ananta was very kind to her, and took her carefully home to his mother, that she might teach her all the duties of a wife, and show her how to cook and to grind. When the daily work was done, Ananta wished to teach his wife to read and write. He tried again and again, but his own people always interfered, till he saw that it would be impossible for Lakshmibai to learn if she stayed in his father’s home. Many a man would have given in, but he would not give in. He went away from his home, and took his little wife with him far into the forest. There was no sign of thelife of man where they rested during the first night. The little child lay in terror on the ground. All the stories she had ever heard of wild beasts and spirits came back to her, and it did not need memory to bring fear to her heart, for right across a ravine a tiger roared and prowled. Ananta watched by her through the long night. Soon he built a hut to be a home for them. Though Lakshmibai had not been long with her mother-in-law, she had learned all that she needed to know for the simple out-of-doors life. Now her other lessons began in earnest. She was a clever child, and Ananta found great joy in teaching her. The beauty of the old Indian poems seemed doubly great as he recited them to his wife, or listened to her repetitions of them. The days passed swiftly into years. Disciples gathered round Ananta, and soon a little dark-haired daughter was born and then a son. Both of them were taught along with the band of disciples just as if they had both been boys. Then another little baby girl was born into the home, but by this time, Ananta was so busy with the older two and with his disciples that he had no time to teach the baby Ramabai, and all her early lessons were given to her by her mother. But Lakshmibai too was busy. She had to fetch water, to cook, and to bake, and the only time at which she could be free to teach her little girl was when the faint light of the morning stole through the tree stems to the door of the forest-dwelling. Then Ramabai was wakened and lifted from her bed, and she learned all her earliest lessons in the dim morning light from her mother’s lips.
Sanskrit is not now spoken by any of those who live in India, but all who know Indian scholarship know it. It was in this language that Ramabai learned the beautiful Hindu poems, and the stories of the gods. There is much in these poems and in the stories that is ugly and bad, but we can feel sure that it was the most lovely parts that were taught to the child in the wood.
When Ramabai grew older she joined the others in their studies, and then her father found to his great delight that this youngest of his children had a mind that could answer to his own in no ordinary way.
By and by the time came when the eldest daughter must be married. Ananta was a Brahman, and he would have been disgraced amongst all his people if he had not married his daughter while she was still a child, so she had been betrothed to a Brahman boy when she was very young. When this took place, Ananta arranged that the little boy was to be educated as she had been, so that the two might have many thoughts and interests in common. The wedding day came, and Ananta sought to have everything as beautiful and costly as custom demanded for the marriage of his daughter, but his heart was bitter within him, because he found that the promises that had been made to him about his son-in-law had all been broken, and he knew that he had given his daughter to one who could not understand her. And this was not his only reason for sorrow. Custom had made him give her a large dowry, and spend great sums of money on the marriage feasting. Brahmansand beggars had been fed too, and he found that he had left himself and his children poor. This made him feel more strongly than ever that there was much that was wrong in Hindu customs. He lectured on the wrongs of India’s women, and tried to prove that many of the things they suffered were not commanded in the old writings. But another trouble was before them. Ananta could not face the thought of giving Ramabai to the same fate that had awaited her sister. So he resolved that he would not marry her to anyone until she was grown up. His friends and relations had been very angry with him for teaching his wife, but they had not made him an outcast for that, but when they saw that he was not going to arrange for Ramabai’s marriage, they were enraged, and would not own him as one of them. Then came the years of a great famine. None of Ananta’s people would give him work, and no one had money to pay for listening to lectures, so the little family moved about from place to place. They always hoped that the gifts they had given to the gods would bring them favour sooner or later. But one misfortune followed another until at last they resolved to die. Ananta had ceased to worship idols, but he had never heard of Christ. Yet, though he had not heard of Him he was feeling his way as many a Hindu has done, towards that same God whom Christ has revealed. Yet though this is so, it did not seem to him that it would be wrong for him to kill himself, for he believed as his fathers had done in the worthlessness and wretchedness of human life,and that belief made him think it right to leave it. The family talked in sorrow and bitterness, and planned how they each in turn would end the life that had become so sad. But the training that Ananta had given to his children, and the close bonds of love that had been drawn amongst the forests, were stirring instincts that he did not dream of. It was a terrible thing to Hindu minds for a Brahman to do labourer’s work, but Ananta’s son felt that it was a far more terrible thing to see the father whom he honoured take away his own life, and the lad made up his mind that he would find work of some kind no matter how humble it was, and so bring food and life to his father and mother.
But though they were saved the pain of knowing that their father had taken his own life, they could not keep him with them much longer. The suffering and want of these days of weary travel had told on him, and with anxious thoughts about the future of his children, he died. Amongst his last words was a special message to Ramabai that she should always obey and serve God, for though the family still worshipped idols yet Ananta had come to believe that there was only one God in the universe, and that He would take care of those who obeyed Him.
Caste and custom with their grim shadows watched over Ananta’s funeral. He had put himself outside the bonds of caste, and no one would help to bury him. At length the sad rites were over, but Lakshmibai was so ill that her children feared that they wouldlose her too. They could not find steady work even of the humblest kind, and the one thing open to them still, they could not do. They could not beg. The spirit of Lakshmibai was broken. She could fight no longer. There was no refuge to which she could be taken. If she had killed both of her baby daughters, doors might still have been open to her amongst her caste people and relations, for the mother of a son, even when she is a widow, is not wholly despised; but because, instead of killing Ramabai, she and Ananta had taught her and had refused to have her married when she was still a child, every door was shut against her. There was no hospital nor home to which she could go. For many a sick man and woman in India the only hospital has been the waters of the Ganges or a living grave. It was terrible for Ramabai to see the suffering of her mother, and one day she started out to beg—only she could not do it when she came to the point. But the woman to whose house she went saw the little pinched face and the hungry eyes, and gave her a bit of bread with which she rushed home to her mother, who was by that time too weak to eat it, and very soon Ramabai and her brother were left alone in the world.