Unlike Mohammed and the mountain, if one does not go to the Indian bazaar the bazaar is brought to him. On a visitor leaving his room, there will be spread before his door on the wide veranda silk shawls, silk dress goods, and souvenirs of the place; also waiting are snake charmers, jugglers, photographers, "dobeys," tailors, shoemakers, barbers, guides, hackmen, fellows offering themselves as servants—all making salaams—speakingin a low voice, but persistently following their business instincts. One never finds himself at a loss for some one to do whatever he wants done. An Indian may not be within sight or sound, yet if one should make his wants known, the man he requires will immediately appear as if having come out of the ground. It is said that no secret can be kept from the native—he seems to have the power of extracting any treasured thought from the mind of a European.
Since leaving Bombay we had not seen a sidewalk.
We now head northward for Delhi, the country continuing flat, with the same scenes, save for a deer appearing from grain fields on several occasions as the train rolled along. Every time the train stopped a native approached a coach that contained high-class Indians or Europeans. He was a "boy" servant, waiting to learn if his master needed his services. Nearly every one traveling in India takes a "boy" with him, as it gives a person a better standing with both natives and Europeans. The wages for these servants range from $5 to $7 a month. If one rides first-class, the servant rides free in the third-class cars. His duties are to wait incessantly on his employer, look after the baggage, and act as interpreter for a European who cannot speak the native language. When in a city the "boy" is no expense to his master, as he provides himself with both food and lodging.
Delhi, the old walled capital of the Moguls, is under course of rebuilding for the ninth time in its history. Calcutta was the capital of India until 1911, when the seat of government was changed to Delhi. Seven years was the time allotted in which to build the government offices. Owing to the prevalence of malarial fever, and the intense heat of the plains, two capitals are maintained. Delhi is the official city for five winter months of the year, and Simla, in the Himalayas to the north, the summer capital for seven months. In one of the burnings and sackings of this city, in 1756, Nadir Shah carried away with him treasure amounting in value to half a billion of dollars, including the Koh-i-Noor diamond. For a distance of six to eight miles south of the city, pillars, earth depressions, andcrumbled walls attest the onetime greatness of the new capital. Delhi was founded by the Aryans more than a thousand years before the Christian era, but modern history dates from the year 1200. This city became British territory in 1803, and a quarter of a million people live within its lines.
The financial year of married Europeans in India is nearer eighteen months than twelve. Owing to one's business, a city home must be maintained, and another, in addition, in the hills—as the mountains of India are termed—for the wife and children, for six months of the year, thus supporting a city home twelve and a mountain home six months. The heat of the plains is so trying to European women and children during the summer that they must go to a cooler climate. Seldom are white children over 10 years of age seen; they are generally taken to Europe at that age to receive schooling and to acquire a sound constitution, thus burdening the husband with more expense. Few Europeans become wealthy in India.
From eight to twelve servants are required for a European's household. The servant custom is maintained, even though there is only a Sahib and Memsahib in a family, and one finds what seems a surplus of servants about each home. In addition to the head servant, there is a cook and dishwasher; the husband and wife each have their separate "boy"; also a gardener, and the "sice," who looks after the horse; a servant to cut grass for the horse, that not being the work of a "sice"; a water-carrier, and a night watchman, or "chokeedar." Each child in a household would have a nurse. The wages of these servants range from $2.50 to $5 a month. One Indian will not do the work of another—he will do only certain things he was engaged to do. One often hears of tyranny of labor unions in America, but the system in vogue in India of getting work places labor unions in the United States in the light of philanthropists by comparison.
An acquaintance who had been many years in India told of his traveling by stage through a district inhabited by highwaymen. The friend he had left assured him he need have no fear of danger, as one of the gang of outlaws would be on theseat with the driver. While passing through the highwaymen's lair the vehicle was stopped by the bandits a number of times on plunder bent, when the member of the gang who had been engaged to accompany the vehicle would say the word, and travelers were allowed to proceed. That is another way Indians have of getting work.
It would be hard to find more attractive surroundings to any city than the section of Delhi north of the walls. Parks, good roads, monuments, and shade trees are in evidence. Among the interesting features of Delhi is the monument to John Nicholson, the Mutiny hero. It is a fine shaft of red granite, with a bronze bust of the great soldier. The inscription, striking in its simplicity, is: "John Nicholson." Four thousand brave white men were lost in the siege of that city.
Shah Jahan, the Mogul Emperor who built most of the rich buildings in the Agra Fort and palace, and also the Taj Mahal, built the Mogul Fort and Palace in Delhi between the years 1638-48. He was every inch a king, so far as spending money lavishly goes, as another building in the Fort, 90 by 60 feet, built wholly of white marble, was inlaid with precious stones, and the ceiling was of silver. One flooring a building with $20 gold pieces in Shah Jahan's day evidently would be looked upon as a cheap imitator. The great value of some of these buildings is still in evidence, several being preserved; but despoilers, during the mutiny, ruined much of the beauty of the palace which Nadir Shah left after he had carried away the Koh-i-Noor diamond and half a billion dollars in treasure. Some of these palaces are used to-day as messrooms and for other purposes by British troops.
Some of the splendid mosques here swarm with beggars. If a guide takes a visitor to these he is allowed to go no further than the entrance. At some of the churches shoes must be taken off in order to enter, and at all of them the shoes must be covered, generally with canvas slippers. Money has to be given to the fellow who puts on and ties the slippers. The first usher takes the visitor to one portion of the church, and when he has reached the end of his territory another usher takes hisplace. At these boundary lines a fee is expected. When one reaches the outside he has paid six fees, and even there he comes in contact with sundry professional beggars. The guide, in the meantime, must be paid, and the garrywaller as well. But such fees in India are not heavy, and hack fare is only from 15 to 30 cents an hour.
A prayer offered in a mosque is equal to 500 offered elsewhere, and one prayer offered at Mecca is equal to 100,000 in other sections.
The Kutab Minar, one of the grandest monuments in the world—a tower of victory—is located seven miles from Delhi—where the capital once stood. It is another of those wonderful works of the Moguls. Its height is nearly 350 feet, and the width of the tower at its zenith is nine feet. The diameter of the base is 47 feet, and it tapers perfectly from that measurement to the top. The first three stories are of red sandstone, with semi-circular and angular flutings. The noble monument has five stories, the two upper ones being faced with white marble. Balconies are built at the base of each story of the tower, from which a good view may be had.
As in Italy, holidays are numerous in India, and no work is done on a holiday. It is on these occasions that the curtain is raised and a broader insight of the people is obtained. Were one to collect all the brightest colored cloth manufactured, and specially arrange these to give the most gorgeous effect, the kaleidoscope would not surpass what is seen in Delhi—in all India, in fact—in raiment worn by the people on holiday occasions.
I stood on the Chandi Chauk, the principal street of Delhi, while a holiday procession passed. It took many hours—days, on certain occasions—for the hundreds of thousands of people from that section to squeeze their way through the street, and every coping, balcony, roof and window above the street contained as many human beings as the space would admit, all dressed in gaudy cloth. High-caste Indians, dressed in silks and velvets, rode in handsome carriages, drawn, in some instances, by snow-white horses; lower-caste citizens rode intraps, with seating space on the sides, and drawn by donkeys and oxen; throngs of barefooted, serious-faced natives mingled among these, walking; further down the emblazoned street could be seen a brown head appearing above the people, oxen and horses—a camel, between high shafts, drawing a high-wheeled wagon, the occupants being concealed by a large closed box, like a van; this contained Mohammedan women. Hundreds of low palanquins, their dark curtains extending from the roof down the four sides, borne on poles, between which were two men at each end, flitted in and out of the narrow streets; these also contained Mohammedan women. The big Afghan, or Kabuli, with his baggy apparel and full beard, also mingled in the procession. Taboots, a fantastic design of mosque and pagoda, the framework made of poles and covered with bright-colored paper, lavishly decorated with tinsel and gaudy ornaments, passed by, drawn by devotees of the Moslem faith. Blare, grotesqueness, weird music from strange instruments, together with the air of melancholy, induced by the beating of the Oriental tomtoms—all very strange indeed. Holidays often last a week, and some even extend to ten days.
Army officers relate interesting stories of that country. For nearly a century elephants had been used to move army transports. The food of the elephants was large cakes made of wheat, and a dozen was a meal. The mahout, or cook, might take a portion of the flour from the apportioned quantity and keep it for his own use. Before eating the cakes, the elephant lifted this food on his trunk; if the cakes were short of his regular portion, he would set the food down and would not touch it. A white officer, inspecting the animals at feeding-time, seeing that the elephant did not look sick, would weigh the food, and in every instance the scales verified the elephant's refusing to eat because he had been cheated.
Types of Indian Soldiers.The Sikh.The Goorkha.See page311.
Types of Indian Soldiers.The Sikh.The Goorkha.See page311.
Indian women often cooked the cakes for elephants in a mud fireplace, and the big beast would sidle to where his food was being prepared. The basket for the woman's baby to rest in was made of twigs, and a bent bamboo pole served as a handle to the Indian "cradle." The Indian mother would slip thehandle over the elephant's trunk, and the to-and-fro motion of the beast would rock, or lull, the baby to sleep while the mother cooked the elephant's meal.
House rent in Delhi is higher than in New York City. The rents were increased a hundred per cent. when it was decided to remove the capital from Calcutta.
A number of European stores were found in the capital. Drug stores do the best business in India, as well as in Africa.
We did not go farther north at this time, but traveled easterly to Aligarh. A college is located here, some 1,200 students being in attendance. This seat of education was erected and is maintained by a wealthy Indian. It is non-sectarian, and Mohammed, Hindu, Jain and all other sects take advantage of the liberality of the benefactor. Strange as it may seem, the educators are Europeans, and the language of the institution is English.
An American mission is located several miles from Aligarh, and the Europeans living in that city and district get their bread from the mission. Few people take kindly to eating bread made by Indians, as they have so many skin and constitutional diseases and untidy habits that one does not know what ailment he may contract from eating native-made bread. A creamery is located near the city also, owned by a Swede. Like the bread, Europeans prefer European-made butter, and as a result there seems room for another white-conducted creamery.
Living in this section is a remnant of a former wild tribe, who existed from plundering and were being hunted by the authorities most of the time. The Salvation Army obtained permission to use an old fort as a mission, and most of these highwaymen have found peace within its walls, being industriously engaged in weaving silk. This section of India is termed the Doab.
All white men in India own an evening-dress suit, generally worn at dinner in their own homes.
Every one carries a lantern at night. Snakes are so numerous and so poisonous that one's life is in danger. Some of the Indian snakes are small, are very dangerous at night, and theirbite is almost certain death. The fatality from bubonic plague, cholera, typhoid fever and rabies is appalling, yet it is said more people die from snakebite in India during the year than from any other single cause.
The most commendable feature of India that came under observation was the free service of the bhisti (bee-ste), or water-carrier. Men engaged in that occupation have a guild, or union, and the rules of the organization forbid them making a charge for water. The carrier's water-bag is made of leather, in the shape of an inverted pig, and contains from six to eight gallons. A strap is tied to both the hind and front of the pig-shaped bag, which stretches across his right shoulder, the bag being on the left side. A stopper is placed in the mouth of the bag, which the carrier holds with his left hand. A cloth is worn about the loins, and his legs are bare to the ground. He usually wears a shirt, with short sleeves, and his head is covered with a bulky piece of cloth wound round and round. Most of the bhistis are bent forward and lean to the left, which is accounted for by their carrying the bag on that side. He is a poor man, but will serve water to either man or beast in need. He is generally found about railway stations and other places where large numbers of people congregate. Thirsty children may be seen running to the bhisti, with empty cups in their hands, for water, when he withdraws the stopper, places the spout above the cup, and releases the thumb of his left hand at the mouth of the bag, filling it. The happy child drinks and walks away. A mother, with a water vessel in her hand, calls him, when he pauses until the woman catches up with him, and then supplies her need. The Indian mother might leave with him a pie (one-sixth of a cent). As stated earlier, rain does not fall in India at certain seasons of the year for periods of from five to nine months, and water is water during most of that time. Should the water-carrier pass an ox, a goat, a dog, or a horse—anything in need of water—he at once eases his thumb on the spout of the bag and relieves the suffering. He might call at a compound with his bag full, and the master of the bungalow would direct him to sprinkle the parched garden. After doingso he walks away unless called to receive pay. The bhisti, in short, practices what Red Cross societies aim to accomplish, and what churches profess to do. He is the one star that shines brightly through the dark, traditional sky of India—a messenger of life in a land of suffering and death.
Clay cups, saucers, plates, bowls, and buckets are made in the college city, the smaller vessels containing oil, with a cloth dip added. Cities are aflame with these on certain holidays, and from remote sections millions of clay-saucer lights burn throughout the populous country.
Garlands are placed about the neck of guests when invited to partake of an Indian's hospitality, these often extending to the waist. They are made from flowers, leaves, paper, cloth, and on occasions are composed of gold lace, and even more expensive material.
No hotel or dak bungalow was found here; but on visiting places without these conveniences, even if one be a stranger, some European will extend an invitation to stop at his home. European hospitality is another bright light that shines in this dark country.
Wherever a few Europeans are found, a little English church has been erected, and a bell will be heard ringing every Sunday morning.
Cawnpore was the next stop. The first thing that attracted attention was dust, which seemed six inches deep, quite a cloud arising from it. When we left Bombay, sidewalks and paved streets were left behind. This city has a population of 200,000. It is a leather manufacturing place, and cotton mills are also quite numerous. We visited Cawnpore chiefly to see the historical Massacre Well.
Cow fat on cartridges, a desecration of the Hindu religion—the cow being a sacred animal to the people of that faith—was the fuse that ignited the mutiny bomb in 1857. Uprisings by native troops had taken place at intervals for ninety years previous, during which the domains of rulers had been taken from them, higher pay for the sepoys refused, and pensions tothe deposed rulers' heirs cut off, the army being composed in a large degree of high-caste natives.
Nana Sahib, heir to a ruler who had once been head of the Mahrattas, was among those who did not succeed to the pension his adopted parent received, $400,000 a year. At that time 40,000 British soldiers were in India and 240,000 Indians, drilled in warfare by British officers. At Cawnpore there were but 200 British soldiers, 30 officers and 3,000 sepoys. On June 6 General Wheeler, who was in charge of the British troops, was warned to expect an attack—the siege had begun. The ground was so hard that good trenches could not be built, and the dirt was so dry it would not pack. Nine hundred, the majority women and children, took shelter in the crude trenches. Nana's forces were well armed, and a murderous fire came from the enemy. The barracks of the besieged comprised two buildings, one of which had a thatched roof, and the well from which they got their water was exposed to the enemy's fire. The thatched roof was set on fire and burned, and the occupants were daily exposed to a sun varying from 120 to 140 degrees. Deaths were taking place every day, and bodies were buried in another well close to the barracks. An armistice was finally agreed to after a 20-day siege, during which 250 out of the 900 died.
The terms of the armistice were that the British should leave their guns and treasure behind, and that Nana Sahib would see them, unmolested, to the river, where boats would be ready to take them down the Ganges to safety. Four hundred and fifty were left, and the boats were beached on bars of mud in the river. Instead of being towed down stream, a murderous fire of grapeshot and musketry opened on all sides. The boats were covered with thatched roofs, and, these taking fire, many of the deceived survivors were suffocated by the smoke of the burning grass. Following, the sepoys jumped into the water and butchered others of the party. At last the Nana's heart temporarily softened, and he ordered that no more women should be killed, and about 125 women and children, wounded and half drowned,were then taken to Cawnpore. The men on the boats were murdered.
In two weeks' time General Havelock had reached Cawnpore with 2,000 soldiers. A week later an engagement took place, in which the Nana suffered a crushing defeat, and at a second engagement the mutineers were again defeated. The Nana, learning that Havelock would soon be reinforced, ordered the captives to be killed. The few men who were among the women and children were brought out and put to death in the Nana's presence. A party of sepoys were then ordered to shoot the women and children in the building in which they had been placed, but the soldiers fired at the ceiling of the room. The Nana, being in a rage at his men refusing to shoot the white women, ordered a party of butchers to put an end to the captives, and a short time after entering the house his orders had been carried out. Next morning all the bodies were thrown in an adjoining well—since that time termed the Massacre Well. This took place on July 15, 1857.
In the center of a beautiful garden a mound covers the well into which the bodies of the 125 women and children were thrown. On the mound is a memorial in the form of an octagonal Gothic screen, in the center of which, on the actual well, is a white marble figure of the Angel of the Resurrection, with arms across her breast, as if resigned to the Almighty will, each hand holding a palm, the emblem of peace. Over the arch is inscribed, "These are they which came out of great tribulation." Indians, except park workers, are not allowed in the Memorial Gardens. If they were, some of them might be taken to hospitals from time to time, we fear, as Europeans feel bitter after having visited the Massacre Well.
Twelve years is the legal marriage of girls in India. Girls, however, have a partner selected for them as early as two years of age, and, if they do not wish to live with their husbands at the legal age, they are taken from their father's home by force. No matter how young she may have been when the parents married her, she is the man's wife from that time. Should the husband die after marriage, the girl, according to Indian custom,cannot marry again. She may be a widow when she is 8 or 10 years of age. She is looked down upon, her hair sometimes cut off—in short, she becomes the drudge of the family. She is charged with having done some very bad thing which caused her husband's death. Nothing is worse treated than a Hindu widow. Fathers receive from $25 to $200 for their daughter from the husband. Mothers 20 years of age will have "married" daughters seven and eight years old.
If a poor Hindu were eating his portion of rice, or other food, and a European happened to pass between him and the sun, causing his shadow to flit over the native's food, the hungry creature would not eat it, firmly believing it had been polluted by the white man's shadow. Natives eat with their fingers.
Were a man or woman to drop in a faint, or from any cause, they would prefer to die before accepting nourishment from one of lower caste, and certainly no one of higher caste would lend aid. Only one of similar caste could relieve their condition.
Indians consider Europeans filthy who use a tooth-brush more than once. They use a twig or sliver of wood that has been chewed to a bushy end; it is thrown away after using. People who eat pork are considered worse than dogs.
Men who wear trousers and shirt place the shirt outside the trousers. Those who wear shoes have no socks.
Long, canoe-like boxes on cart wheels were in evidence in Cawnpore. The oxen were hitched to a crosspiece at the end of the shafts, while Indians, behind the oxen, were between the shafts and pushing with their breasts against the crosspiece.
A European carpenter shoves a plane from him, but an Indian carpenter pulls the plane toward him. Mechanics do most of their work sitting, and use their toes as a vise between which to hold a board while planing it. Before shoeing an ox, the beast's legs are bound with rope, when the animal will be thrown. The blacksmith then shoes the ox while he is sitting down. The Indian can make as convenient use of his toes as he does of his fingers.
Lucknow, next visited, is well provided with large tracts of park space, splendid roads and good shade. The city has a population of 300,000, and among this number were more Europeans than at Cawnpore. Several good European stores have been established, and these seemed to compete successfully with the native merchants.
This city shared with Cawnpore in the horrors of the Mutiny, as 3,000 souls were behind the historic walls of the Residency when the siege began, and when relief came there were less than a thousand alive.
Bedding is not generally furnished by hotels in India. Frequently, the "bed" is only a bedstead and springs, or, as will be found in smaller centers, strips of cowhide, lashed at sides, top and bottom, answer for springs; again, there is a mattress on the springs, but no bedclothing or pillows. At other times, only one sheet over the mattress, and nothing else. Owing to this unusual custom, a bag for carrying bedding is generally included in travelers' luggage. The contrast between India and Germany in this respect is very marked, as at a small hotel in Berlin at which I stopped the bed had a sheet and a feather tick for a covering. It was summer-time, but the covering would answer for Arctic weather. In one case the sheet was not sufficient covering; in the other the tick was too much.
One is more successful in beating down hotel rates in this country than anywhere else. It is a place of haggle and barter, and the business system aims to make a customer feel he has got the better of the bargain, while the seller is satisfied with his profit, although having come down from the original price one-half. There is always doubt whether the customer really has got the better of the transaction; but there is no question, however, about getting a concession, when, after a hotelkeeper has asked six or seven rupees a day, the traveler pays only five rupees ($1.60) a day. It seems to break an Indian boniface's heart to see a prospective guest go to another hotel.
"Babus" are men engaged at clerical work, and one has to scan his hotel bill closely before settling, as a babu may add an item to the laundry list or for ice, or even charge for otherthings that go with hotel accommodation. Many persons will overlook a small charge, and well the babu knows it. Extras belong to him.
The hotels are generally of one story, and all doors open on to a covered veranda. Almost every one has a servant—a "boy"—with him. Early in the evening and during the night, in front of room doors, may be seen one, two and sometimes three "boys" sleeping. If their master or any European should pass where they are lying they hurriedly arise in their blankets, salaam and bow, then immediately lie down again, remaining thus until another European footstep is heard, when up they jump, offer another salaam, and quickly settle down again to sleep. As few Indians wear shoes, they know when an European is approaching.
When leaving a hotel there will be four to six servants helping the guest and his luggage into a conveyance. As most of them look alike, it becomes necessary to ask each one what part he played in adding to one's comfort while making his stay. In answer to who's who, one will say he is the table "boy," another the room "boy," another the bath "boy," and yet another, the sweeper. Others are also present to see one comfortably on his way, but gratuities may be limited to four. Three rupees—a dollar—proportionately divided among the four is generally given for a week's or ten days' stay.
On entering the native quarters—the bazaars—of the Indian cities one is generally escorted by "runners" of silk merchants, brass manufacturers, lacquer merchants and others. A friend and myself rode on a two-wheeled trap, the seat facing backward; and as we entered one of the arteries of the Chauk Bazaar the crowd of people and merchants' runners that filled the narrow street from house wall to house wall was so dense that the garrywaller gave up trying to proceed further. It took us some time to reach the entrance on foot. No holiday was being celebrated—this was an every day occurrence.
In all the cities of this section are sports grounds, a race track, a church, and public library for Europeans. A large cantonment is located in Lucknow.
The country over which we had traveled was so flat that it looked as if there was no necessity for grading or cutting in the railway of even two feet for a hundred miles. The "windmill," the stick-and-bolt plough, the irrigation trench, and an occasional tree; the oxen, with humps on their shoulders; the mud huts; the sparsely clad and half-starved natives were scenes of similarity from Lucknow to Benares, the sacred city of the Hindu. Benares is to the Hindu what Mecca, in Arabia, is to the Mohammedan.
One beholds beggars, beggars, beggars—repulsive looking specimens of humanity—and pariah dogs inside and outside the temples; some of the enclosures of the temples alive with monkeys and goats; cattle standing munching in front of golden images of Hindu gods, up to their fetlocks in yellow flowers and tender leaves; bony and poorly dressed women flitting in and out of narrow alleys and through doorways into temples, carrying a brass or copper water-pot full of Ganges River water; vagabond priests on the "ghats," resting on a platform covered with a large sun-shade, receiving money from very poor people for making clay marks on their forehead—caste marks—all sacred! Beastly and idolatrous would be a better term to apply to Benares.
Two-thirds of the population of India—207,000,000—are followers of the Brahmanic faith, and even one of the lowest caste believes he is a unit in the great universe as compared to an Indian who has no caste distinction.
People of the Brahmanic faith come from all parts of India to bathe in the Ganges River at Benares, which, by the way, is nearly as muddy as the Missouri River. Their hope of a peaceful hereafter is strengthened by a visit to the sacred city, but the poverty and suffering entailed through spending money for the trip by those living a great distance away is keenly felt.
At Durga, or Monkey Temple, which is surrounded by high walls, 350 monkeys were climbing up the sides of the church, scampering about the walls, but always keeping an eye on the visitor. Upon entering the temple enclosure a priest insists on one buying popcorn or other food for the monkeys; then asecond priest slips a garland of flowers over one's head, another method of getting a little money. Besides monkeys, mangy dogs come close, expecting popcorn, and impudent goats rub their noses against visitors' clothes. The temple is painted an ocher color, symbolizing the character of the god Durga—blood. Many beggars were inside the enclosure, and were very numerous outside. Everything about the place bore an air the reverse of sacred or solemn.
The Golden Temple, hidden among many buildings, is the most important to pilgrims. Three domes, covered with plates of gold over plates of copper, ornament this structure; the floor is said to be inlaid with 100,000 rupee pieces ($32,000). A narrow alley runs in front of the temple, and only two persons can pass at a time. Flower stands, and men selling flowers, are plentiful about the entrance and along the passageway. Inside the building are several shrines; in front of one stood a Brahmani bull, and in front of another a Brahmani cow, both animals having humps on their shoulders. Near the shrines peacocks and deer were also seen. People were streaming in and out of the temple all the time, those going in carrying a water-pot, made of brass or earth, filled with Ganges water, and a handful of yellow flowers and tender leaves, bought outside. The flowers and leaves were fed to the bull and cow, and the worshiper sprinkled the water over himself while paying homage at the shrine. All the time a din from cymbals, tom-toms and other harsh instruments was kept up, sounding more like a boiler factory than anything else. Every one was in bare feet. Most of the men wore only a loin cloth, and the prominent ribs and other bones of their bodies suggested a doubt of their ever having had a square meal. Around the women's ankles were rings, around the wrists were cheap glass or pewter bangles; the ears contained cheap ornaments, and a gewgaw pendant hung from the nose over the mouth, secured to the nostrils' partition. At every point of vantage beggars and fakirs were as thick as flies. The constantly inpouring crowd and weird music is kept up the whole day, year in and year out. There is nothing doubtful about the sacred water—everydrop is taken from the historical river and carried to the temple. In some of the shrines is an image of a monkey, a cow, a peacock, or a double-headed beast of awful appearance; and gods in flaring red represent fire and thunder. All the time priests are collecting money from the worshipers.
Many professional loafers, known as "jojees" or devotees, are seen in India. They will hold up one of their arms for years until it has become rigid and the fingernails have grown and twisted about the hand like roots; some hang by one foot from a pole, like the flying foxes of Tonga; or distort themselves in other unnatural positions. This is done in accordance with their supposed religious belief as bodily penance, and they are looked upon as martyrs. Some of them have ashes on their bodies, which they sell, mostly to women. Rice and money are thrown to these knotty-whiskered, filthy fakirs by poor people who really cannot afford the gifts, but who think they are doing a religious act.
The view of Benares from the Ganges River is an unusually fine one. On the high banks at this point stone steps have been built leading from the top to the water. Above the steps and banks stand attractive temples and palaces. At certain times of year the temples are used by pilgrims who come from every point of India to worship. Sections of the steps have proper names, which are called "ghats"—used for the English word place, as Dandi Ghat (place).
Over a million pilgrims journey to Benares each year, where they bathe in the Ganges as a purifying tenet of their religion. Among others, there is a small-pox ghat, where those suffering from small-pox may bathe, in the hope of being healed; also bathing ghats for other diseases, where purifying rites are carried out. On each ghat are several raised platforms, having large sunshades, where men, their legs half curled under them, are sitting. Every one leaving the water stops at a platform, where caste marks are made on their foreheads, each supplicant leaving money with the marker. Some have no money coins and leave cowrie shells instead. These markers are priests. The pilgrims then wend their way to a temple and worshipeither an idol painted red, having three eyes, a silver scalp, or an elephant's trunk covered with a yellow bib; the figure of a rat; a monkey of brass, wood or iron, or some other image. At the temple the faithful make another donation, tom-toms, cymbals and other instruments playing meanwhile to awaken the gods of wood, brass or stone.
A few hours after death a body is brought to a burning ghat, men being covered with a white sheet and women with a red cloth. Smoke from a dozen to fifty pyres may be seen rising from the ghat, and the ashes are thrown into the Ganges just below. The fuel for a pyre costs $1.60; wealthy Indians use sandalwood for this purpose. Children of five years of age and under are not cremated, their bodies being cast into the Ganges, with a weight attached. "Holy men" of the church are not cremated; they are either buried or, like the children, cast into the Ganges River.
Every pilgrim, on leaving Benares, takes with him a quantity of Ganges water, though he may live a thousand miles away. Were a European to touch accidentally a pilgrim's water-pot, the Hindu would feel that the sacred water had been defiled.
Caste customs in India forbid intermarriage of one with another; they must not eat nor drink together; must not partake of food prepared by a lower caste, and shun even touching the clothes of those beneath them. Were an Indian merchant to adopt the Christian religion, his business would probably be ruined, his home possibly be surrounded by a mob, and he would be fortunate to escape with his life, having degraded his caste. A man may be poor, and yet of a higher caste than some wealthy Indians.
Women, with two blanks in their heads, may be seen begging in many places. To raise her head when out walking as a man passed is considered a violation of a wife's vow by her husband, for which offense their eyes are sometimes literally gouged out. High-caste women keep very much to their homes.
A white woman would be thought little of by her servants were she to do domestic duties, such as dusting and putting a finishing touch to the interior. Here are instances of howhelpless some Europeans become when in India: Were a man to brush his own clothes, or even lace his shoes, these acts would prove sources of unfavorable comment by the servants. A man, wanting to know the hour, sometimes calls his "boy"; the servant takes the watch from his master's pocket, holds the timepiece level with his employer's eyes, replaces the watch in his master's pocket, and leaves the room. When keeping an appointment with a servant, the master must not be punctual, but keep the servant waiting. If the Sahib was punctual, and the servant happened to be late, the master would be looked down upon for waiting for his minion.
The cow is revered, not only owing to its service in maintaining life by its milk, but because some of the Hindu sects believe that, after death, they will be borne across a river on the back of the cow to a better country. Hindus who do not wear long hair have a tuft growing from the crown, or a little below that point. In case the cow should fail to be on hand to take him across, a mysterious arm is supposed to reach down, take hold of his tuft of hair, and by that means place him in the better land. One would be disgraced were the tuft of hair removed.
Much of the ornamental brasswork seen in many parts of the world comes from Benares, for which the Hindu Mecca is famed. Small idols and images in brass or other materials are made in large quantities. The brassworkers sit down while turning out their product.
Ruins of the temples of Benares are located at Sarnath, five miles from the city; these evidences of the past are seen in crumbled walls and earth depressions. Brick and stone was the material used in building, but the brick was much thinner and longer than the present-day block. The most striking remains standing of the ancient city is the Dhamek Stupa, or tower, which consists of a stone basement, 93 feet in diameter, the stones being clamped together with iron bands to the height of 43 feet. Above that point the tower is of brickwork, rising to a height of 128 feet. Niches built in projecting faces of the tower contain the figure of Buddha, and encircling themonument is a band of sculptured ornaments of much interest. There is some doubt among authorities as to whether the stupa has stood all these years; it is the only building of the ancient temples at present standing. Another stupa, not as massive as the Dhamek, was passed before reaching the ruins. At one place among the crumbled temples is the Main Shrine, the whole standing on a concrete foundation, with a rail on the upper part of the altar. Close by is the Asoka Pillar, which is broken, but was at one time 50 feet high, and is believed to mark the spot where Buddha preached his first sermon.
Excavations are under way all the time at Sarnath, and a museum located at that place contains a large variety of interesting fragments of the early Buddhist temples.
A start was next made for the Himalayas in a northeasterly direction, seldom traversed by persons going to that section of the mountain country. I was the only white man on the train, and in view of few European travelers taking this route no provision had been made for food. The third-class coaches were packed with natives. We passed through the opium poppy growing country, the sugar-cane and indigo fields, and, further along, reached the jute-growing country in Bengal. The train had left Benares in the morning, but it was twelve hours later before food was available.
At a place known as Katihar I had to remain a day in order to make through connections. One of the sub-stations, located a short distance from the railway track, was alive with passengers, but no one seemed to really care when the trains came and went. Natives eating rice, wheat cakes, bananas, sticks of sugar-cane, thick pieces of candy, rolls like crullers, smoking the hooka (a long pipe with two bowls, through one of which, containing water, the smoke from the tobacco or hemp passes to the stem), gambling, begging; the big Kabuli—who looks like a storm in silent mood—offering for sale alleged rare coins; women with one to three very small children, all untidy and dirty—such is life in India.
The train left Katihar in the evening for Silliguri. An Englishman got in the same coach, and I was much pleased to have a white man with me. This train was not lighted by electricity, and there were doubts about the oil in the lamp being of American brand, for the light went out before we reached the second station, and when the train stopped the Englishman could be heard shouting from the coach for some one to relight it. The trainman had got no further than the rear of the train, when the lamp gave a final flicker. The Britisher again beganto shout, but the train was then moving. The three following stops were a repetition of the first, and, the Englishman finally admitting his defeat, we stretched out on berths for the night. Most trains in India have berths in the passenger coaches, but every one furnishes his own bedding. The next morning found us at Silliguri, and in front were spread out the Himalayas. From here a start was made up the mountains.
The Himalaya Mountains rise abruptly out of the flat plains, a striking contrast to those of other countries. One would expect the base of the Indian mountains to be at an altitude of 3,000 to 6,000 feet, but Silliguri, located a few miles from where the ascent begins, is only 400 feet above sea-level.
The interior of the Himalayas is reached by means of a train of small cars, drawn by a ten-ton locomotive over a two-foot railway track. There are three classes of travel—first, second and third. First-class fare is 12 cents a mile, second-class 6 cents, and third-class 3 cents. These fares include a very small baggage allowance. First- and second-class coaches are of the compartment type, third-class having curtained sides, with bare-seated benches across. The schedule is ten miles an hour, either going up or coming down the mountain.
The engine soon starts up an incline through a row of trees on both sides of the track, with every seat in the coaches occupied and the baggage car filled with luggage. The narrow train turns to the left, then to the right; another sharp turn, and puff, puff, puff, as a bend in still another direction is made; down a decline next over culverts spanning rippling brooks and under turnpike bridges, then up, when the grandeur of the great range begins to unfold. Down grade again, the train stopping, after traveling but a comparatively short distance, at a precipitous wall. Backing out over a switchback—there being five of these on the mountain railroad—we next creep up a steep, serpentine grade. Houses above and houses and huts below, surrounded by semi-tropical growth and cultivated ground—there being little rock in the mountain—with stretches of low brush, laid out in regular rows, below us, appear. A house and huts have been built in these bush-like tracts of land; these are teagardens. A screeching whistle diverts the passengers' gaze from downward to forward—we were pulling into Kurseong, the halfway station, where some passengers get off and others board the train. The locomotive, being supplied with coal and water, again begins to puff, puff, puff, up a steep grade for a short distance, then eases down a decline. The mountain is now so steep that the narrow train can worm its way no longer about the side, coming to another switchback. Backing out and again ascending, a silver streak is seen, far below, winding over the plains—the Teesta River. Above, the sky appears to rest on green mountain-tops. Upward the little locomotive climbs, seeming to make sharp bends at every hundred feet. The mountainside has now become a great tea plantation, and through the hazy atmosphere the plains are but dimly seen. The sky, which from below seemed to be resting on the point now reached, is further beyond. Approaching an ever-receding horizon at distant outposts from time to time leads one occasionally to fancy he were bumping his shoulders against the arch of the sky at sundry points of the outer circle. The narrow train laboriously continues upward, while passengers direct their gaze down gaping caverns, on the rim of which the railway track sometimes rests. Further on, the grade gradually reducing until traveling on a short, level stretch of road, the train stops. We have reached Ghoom, the highest point on the line, where more passengers leave and others get out of the coaches to stretch their legs. Oh! a great white ridge, high above valleys and tea gardens—it is Mount Kinchinjanga, whose summit seems to intrude far into the sky. What seems like trespassing on the sky's domain is explained when the height of the mountain is made known—28,156 feet. The train again proceeds, but down grade now, still winding and twisting—not over a quarter of a mile straight track along the route—until a sharp bend is reached. Then, as far as the eye could reach, the high, white, stalwart peaks of the Himalayas were revealed in their grandest form. Further on the train stops. We are at Darjeeling, the end of the mountain railway, 50 miles from Silliguri.
Baden-Baden, Germany—where one can walk about the splendid grounds for half a day and need not be exposed to the sun half an hour—had appealed to me more than any other place visited during my journeyings until Darjeeling was reached. Here in the State of Sikkim, India, 20,000 feet below the grandest mountain range in the world and built on the woody sides of a lower range, are seen rippling streams on their way to a parent river; attractively laid out tea gardens on steep inclines; a panorama of dwellings spreading out to all points of the city; deep, wooded valleys on either side, with rivers coursing these, flanked by flowering orange groves; parks, botanical gardens, and shady paths cut on the hillsides; observation points and splendid vistas; then, seen through the blue atmosphere, over low mountains, valleys, hills and trees, Jalapa La Pass—17,000 feet above sea level—the route through the Himalayan fastnesses to Lhassa, Thibet; and, now seen and then unseen, as the many-shaped clouds flitted over and away, the noble galaxy of white mountains, half circular in form, to the front and to the right—Darjeeling can claim and deserves a better description.
Everything seen in the mountain city was different to the plains. The Bhutias, of decidedly Mongol cast—strong, lighter in color than the plainsmen, with rosy cheeks—were numerous, and it was good for tired sight to get away from slender, half-starved looking men, and women without eyes. Living in this section is another sect, or tribe—the Goorkhas—admired by all white men for their bravery and feared by natives. The water here was fit to drink, a luxury in India, and the air was free of the humidity of the plains; the haughty Bengali could be seen at nearly every turn, strutting about bareheaded, his hair tidily brushed; and well-groomed European military officers were galloping about the hillside roads and paths on spirited steeds.
The Bhutia woman is the "horse" or "ox" of Darjeeling. Like the Mkikuyu woman, she carries her loads in a basket, a strap fastened to each side, which loops on her forehead. Few level paths or roads are found in that section of India, but theBhutia woman can carry two maunds (160 pounds) in weight up from tea factories miles below, and the same amount of coal, provisions, or supplies from the cities to the settlements on the mountain-sides and down to the valleys. She appeared as strong as a Zulu woman, but not so big. The country is so hilly that wagons can be drawn over it only in few sections. Bhutia men are employed at ricksha work or carrying palanquins. On account of the steepness of the surroundings, three Bhutias are required to pull and push a ricksha—one between the thills and two at the back of the vehicle. Seeing the Bhutias wearing boots was something unusual in this country. Brakemen, engineers and firemen employed on the mountain railroad do not wear shoes, and the same applies to natives engaged at the same occupation on the plains.
"Coolie, Sahib?" or "Coolie, Memsahib?" if man or woman, is the language of the Bhutia woman when seeking work. Going toward the market-place, one of these strong women, with strap about her head and basket held by the ends, will approach a person and quietly say, "Coolie, Memsahib?" "Yes," was the reply one received from a lady on her way to market. The Mongol woman followed, engaged in knitting socks. After vegetables had been bought, the Bhutia woman sidled to the dealer, turned her back, when the grocer placed the vegetables in her basket; but she kept on knitting, apparently unconscious of what was taking place. One will not look back to see if she is following when leaving a stall; but at the next vegetable stand, in another section of the market, the Bhutia woman would be standing a short distance away, still knitting. Every time articles were bought she turned her basket to the dealer, had these added to the earlier purchases, and when the marketing was finished she followed the memsahib to her home, emptied the contents in the kitchen, received four cents for her work, continuing with her knitting, as she zigzagged down a steep incline in the direction of the market district. Bhutia women are very unassuming in their manners. Some save money, but most of this is spent on jewelry. Discs of gold as large as the bottom of a saucer may be seen depending from theears, and large silver or gold bangles are worn about the wrist. This weakness for display, however, often proves their downfall, as they are sometimes found dead along the mountain paths, stripped of every ornament.
Thousands of men and women are employed picking tea leaves during the season. The tea is picked from the bushes mostly during the monsoon season, as the new leaves sprout fast during rainy weather. They work in wet clothes much of the time, but the mountain natives are hardy, and pay little attention to such discomfort. Men tea-pickers receive eight cents a day and women six cents. Hut rent, garden, and medical service is free. Over 3,000 bushes grow to the acre. Sunday is a big day with these mountain natives; every one working on the tea plantations for miles around comes to town—Bhutians, Thibetans, Nepales, and other tribes—when the market-place and bazaars literally swarm with them. In the Darjeeling district are 60,000 acres of land under tea cultivation, and the output is nearly 20,000,000 pounds a year.
The Goorkha is what is known as a "hill man," and is small-built. He carries a short sword or long knife in a sheath at his side, but will not show the weapon. It is an old maxim with the Goorkha that blood must be drawn every time he unsheathes the knife. Were he assigned to duty by a captain, and a colonel wished to pass, the Goorkha would not allow the superior officer to go through the lines if he had not received orders to do so by the officer who gave him his assignment. He acknowledges only one order—that of the officer who gave it, be he high or low. Where the big Sikh would run or surrender under a galling fire, the Goorkha, knowing no fear, would advance and win a battle. His highest aim in life is to have marked after his name when dead, "Died in action." When mobs gather and a riot is threatened, if Goorkhas are assigned to the scene and instructed to quell it, every one seeks cover when it is announced, "The Goorkhas are coming." Indians well know the Goorkha order will be followed. He is the policeman of Darjeeling.
"The only supplies that reached the starving people of Indiaduring the famine were those sent from the United States," was the refreshing information gathered from an Englishman when touching on Indian matters. The supplies he referred to were kept from native officials and looked after by American representatives. Men get rich in India during famine years through selling relief supplies at a high figure—sent to be distributed free to the starving. Very few high-caste Indians have any feeling for the suffering of a poor or hungry native.
One eats five times a day in India. Tea or coffee is brought to the room generally before one is up; breakfast is served from nine to ten o'clock; luncheon at from one to three o'clock; tea at from five to six, and dinner from eight to nine o'clock. Band music, bioscope, and other amusements take place, but are finished before dinner. In hot countries Europeans bathe from one to three times a day.
Along the bank of a river, stream, or pond may be seen dozens of Indians doing their washing, and clothes spread out on the grass to dry. They are soaped and rolled together and juggled in the hands of the "dobey," and the next stage sees the same fellow slamming them, with all his strength, against a rock. One would look a long time for a washboard in India.