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It would be an utter injustice to suppose that this state of
things
is the result of the policy of the English Government; that the
said
Government is afraid of giving a chance to natives who may be
suspected
of being hostile to the British rule. In reality, the Government
has
little or nothing to do with it. This state of things must be
attributed
entirely to the social ostracism, to the contempt felt by a
"superior"
for an "inferior" race, a contempt deeply rooted in some members
of
the Anglo-Indian society and displayed at the least provocation.
This
question of racial "superiority" and "inferiority" plays a
more important
part than is generally believed, even in England.
Nevertheless, the natives
(Mussulmans included) do not deserve contempt,
and so the gulf between the
rulers and the ruled widens with every year,
and long centuries would not
suffice to fill it up.
I have to dwell upon all this to give my readers a
clear idea on the
subject. And so it is no wonder the ill-fated Hindus
prefer
temporary humiliations and the physical and moral sufferings of
the
"purification," to the prospect of general contempt until death.
These
were the questions we discussed with the Brahmans during the two
hours
before dinner.
Dining with foreigners and people belonging to
different castes is, no
doubt, a dangerous breach of Manu's sacred precepts.
But this time, for
once, it was easily explained. First, the stout Patel, our
host, was
the head of his caste, and so was beyond the dread of
excommunication;
secondly, he had already taken all the prescribed and
advisable
precautions against being polluted by our presence. He was
a
free-thinker in his own way, and a friend of Gulab-Lal-Sing, and so
he
rejoiced at the idea of showing us how much skillful sophistry
and
strategical circumspection can be used by adroit Brahmans to avoid
the
law in some circumstances, while adhering at the same time to its
dead
letter. Besides, our good-natured, well-favored host evidently
desired
to obtain a diploma from our Society, being well aware that
the
collector of his district was enrolled amongst our members.
These,
at any rate, were the explanations of our Babu when we expressed
our
astonishment; so it was our concern to make the most of our
chance, and to
thank Providence for this rare opportunity. And this we
accordingly
did.
Hindus take their food only twice a day, at ten o'clock in the
morning
and at nine in the evening. Both meals are accompanied by
complicated
rites and ceremonies. Even very young children are not allowed to
eat
at odd times, eating without the prescribed performance of
certain
exorcisms being considered a sin. Thousands of educated Hindus have
long
ceased to believe in all these superstitious customs, but,
nevertheless,
they are daily practised.
Sham Rao Bahunathji, our host,
belonged to the ancient caste of Patarah
Prabhus, and was very proud of his
origin. Prabhu means lord, and this
caste descends from the Kshatriyas. The
first of them was Ashvapati (700
B.C.), a lineal descendant of Rama and
Prithu, who, as is stated in the
local chronology, governed India in the
Dvapara and Treta Yugas, which
is a good while ago! The Patarah Prabhus are
the only caste within which
Brahmans have to perform certain purely Vedic
rites, known under the
name of the "Kshatriya rites." But this does not
prevent their being
Patans, instead of Patars, Patan meaning the fallen one.
This is
the fault of King Ashvapati. Once, when distributing gifts to
holy
anchorites, he inadvertently forgot to give his due to the great
Bhrigu.
The offended prophet and seer declared to him that his reign
was
drawing near its end, and that all his posterity would perish. The
king,
throwing himself on the ground, implored the prophet's pardon. But
his
curse had worked its fulfilment already. All that he could do to
stop
the mischief consisted in a solemn promise not to let the king's
descendants
disappear completely from the earth. However, the Patars
soon lost their
throne and their power. Since then they have had to
"live by their pens," in
the employment of many successive governments,
to exchange their name of
Patars for Patans, and to lead a humbler life
than many of their late
subjects. Happily for our talkative Amphitryon,
his forefathers became
Brahmans, that is to say "went through the golden
cow."
The expression
"to live by their pens" alludes, as we learned later on,
to the fact of the
Patans occupying all the small Government posts in
the Bombay Presidency, and
so being dangerous rivals of the Bengali
Babus since the time of British
rule. In Bombay the Patan clerks reach
the considerable figure of five
thousand. Their complexion is darker
than the complexion of Konkan Brahmans,
but they are handsomer and
brighter. As to the mysterious expression, "went
through the golden
cow," it illustrates a very curious custom. The
Kshatriyas, and even
the much-despised Shudras, may become a sort of
left-hand Brahmans. This
metamorphosis depends on the will of the real
Brahmans, who may, if they
like, sell this right for several hundreds or
thousands of cows. When
the gift is accomplished, a model cow, made of pure
gold, is erected
and made sacred by the performance of some mystical
ceremonies. The
candidate must now crawl through her hollow body three times,
and thus
is transformed into a Brahman. The present Maharaja of Travankor,
and
even the great Raja of Benares, who died recently, were both Shudras
who
acquired their rights in this manner. We received all this
information
and a notion of the legendary Patar chronicle from our obliging
host.
Having announced that we must now get ready for dinner, he
disappeared
in the company of all the gentlemen of our party. Being left
to
ourselves, Miss X---- and I decided to have a good look at the
house
whilst it was empty. The Babu, being a downright, modern Bengali,
had
no respect for the religious preparations for dinner, and chose
to
accompany us, proposing to explain to us all that we should
otherwise
fail to understand.
The Prabhu brothers always live
together, but every married couple have
separate rooms and servants of their
own. The habitation of our host
was very spacious. There were small several
bungalows, occupied by
his brothers, and a chief building containing rooms
for visitors, the
general dining-room, a lying-in ward, a small chapel with
any number
of idols, and so on. The ground floor, of course, was surrounded
by a
verandah pierced with arches leading to a huge hall. All round this
hall
were wooden pillars adorned with exquisite carving. For some reason
or
other, it struck me that these pillars once belonged to some palace
of
the "dead town." On close examination I only grew more convinced that
I
was right. Their style bore no traces of Hindu taste; no gods, no
fabulous
monster animals, only arabesques and elegant leaves and flowers
of
nonexistent plants. The pillars stood very close to each other, but
the
carvings prevented them from forming an uninterrupted wall, so that
the
ventilation was a little too strong. All the time we spent at the
dinner
table miniature hurricanes whistled from behind every pillar,
waking up all
our old rheumatisms and toothaches, which had peacefully
slumbered since our
arrival in India.
The front of the house was thickly covered with iron
horseshoes--the
best precaution against evil spirits and evil eyes.
At
the foot of a broad, carved staircase we came across a couch or a
cradle,
hung from the ceiling by iron chains. I saw somebody lying on
it, whom, at
first sight, I mistook for a sleeping Hindu, and was going
to retreat
discreetly, but, recognizing my old friend Hanuman, I grew
bold and
endeavored to examine him. Alas! the poor idol possessed only a
head and
neck, the rest of his body was a heap of old rags.
On the left side of
the verandah there were many more lateral rooms,
each with a special
destination, some of which I have mentioned already.
The largest of these
rooms was called "vattan," and was used exclusively
by the fair sex. Brahman
women are not bound to spend their lives
under veils, like Mussulman women,
but still they have very little
communication with men, and keep aloof. Women
cook the men's food, but
do not dine with them. The elder ladies of the
family are often held in
great respect, and husbands sometimes show a shy
courteousness towards
their wives, but still a woman has no right to speak to
her husband
before strangers, nor even before the nearest relations, such as
her
sisters and her mother.
As to the Hindu widows, they really are
the most wretched creatures in
the whole world. As soon as a woman's husband
dies she must have her
hair and her eyebrows shaven off. She must part with
all her trinkets,
her earrings, her nose jewels, her bangles and toe-rings.
After this is
done she is as good as dead. The lowest outcast would not marry
her. A
man is polluted by her slightest touch, and must immediately proceed
to
purify himself. The dirtiest work of the household is her duty, and
she
must not eat with the married women and the children. The "sati,"
the
burning of the widows, is abolished, but Brahmans are clever
managers,
and the widows often long for the sati.
At last, having
examined the family chapel, full of idols, flowers, rich
vases with burning
incense, lamps hanging from its ceiling, and aromatic
herbs covering its
floor, we decided to get ready for dinner. We
carefully washed ourselves, but
this was not enough, we were requested
to take off our shoes. This was a
somewhat disagreeable surprise, but a
real Brahmanical supper was worth the
trouble.
However, a truly amazing surprise was still in store for
us.
On entering the dining-room we stopped short at the entrance--both
our
European companions were dressed, or rather undressed, exactly
like
Hindus! For the sake of decency they kept on a kind of
sleeveless
knitted vest, but they were barefooted, wore the snow-white Hindu
dhutis
(a piece of muslin wrapped round to the waist and forming a
petticoat),
and looked like something between white Hindus and
Constantinople
garcons de bains. Both were indescribably funny, I never saw
anything
funnier. To the great discomfiture of the men, and the scandal of
the
grave ladies of the house, I could not restrain myself, but burst
out
laughing. Miss X----blushed violently and followed my example.
A
quarter of an hour before the evening meal every Hindu, old or young,
has to
perform a "puja" before the gods. He does not change his clothes,
as we do in
Europe, but takes off the few things he wore during the day.
He bathes by the
family well and loosens his hair, of which, if he is
a Mahratti or an
inhabitant of the Dekkan, he has only one long lock at
the top of his shaven
head. To cover the body and the head whilst eating
would be sinful. Wrapping
his waist and legs in a white silk dhuti,
he goes once more to salute the
idols and then sits down to his
meal.----
But here I shall allow
myself to digress. "Silk possesses the property
of dismissing the evil
spirits who inhabit the magnetic fluids of the
atmosphere," says the Mantram,
book v., verse 23. And I cannot help
wondering whether this apparent
superstition may not contain a deeper
meaning. It is difficult, I own, to
part with our favorite theories
about all the customs of ancient heathendom
being mere ignorant
superstitions. But have not some vague notions of these
customs being
founded originally on a true knowledge of scientific principles
found
their way amongst European scientific circles? At first sight the
idea
seems untenable. But why may we not suppose that the ancients
prescribed
this observance in the full knowledge that the effect of
electricity
upon the organs of digestion is truly beneficial? People who
have
studied the ancient philosophy of India with a firm resolve to
penetrate
the hidden meaning of its aphorisms have for the most part
grown
convinced that electricity and its effects were known to a
considerable
extent to some philosophers, as, for instance, to Patanjali.
Charaka and
Sushruta had pro-pounded the system of Hippocrates long before
the time
of him who in Europe is supposed to be the "father of medicine."
The
Bhadrinath temple of Vishnu possesses a stone bearing evident proof
of
the fact that Surya-Sidhanta knew and calculated the expansive force
of
steam many centuries ago. The ancient Hindus were the first to
determine
the velocity of light and the laws of its reflection; and the table
of
Pythagoras and his celebrated theorem of the square of hypotenuse are
to
be found in the ancient books of Jyotisha. All this leads us to
suppose
that ancient Aryans, when instituting the strange custom of
wearing
silk during meals, had something serious in view, more serious, at
all
events, than the "dismissing of demons."
Having entered
the "refectory," we immediately noticed what were the
Hindu precautions
against their being polluted by our presence. The
stone floor of the hall was
divided into two equal parts. This division
consisted of a line traced in
chalk, with Kabalistic signs at either
end. One part was destined for the
host's party and the guests belonging
to the same caste, the other for
ourselves. On our side of the hall
there was yet a third square to contain
Hindus of a different caste. The
furniture of the two bigger squares was
exactly similar. Along the two
opposite walls there were narrow carpets
spread on the floor, covered
with cushions and low stools. Before every
occupant there was an oblong
on the bare floor, traced also with chalk, and
divided, like a chess
board, into small quadrangles which were destined for
dishes and plates.
Both the latter articles were made of the thick strong
leaves of the
butea frondosa: larger dishes of several leaves pinned together
with
thorns, plates and saucers of one leaf with its borders turned
up.
All the courses of the supper were already arranged on each square;
we
counted forty-eight dishes, containing about a mouthful of
forty-eight
different dainties. The materials of which they were composed
were
mostly terra incognita to us, but some of them tasted very nice.
All
this was vegetarian food. Of meat, fowl, eggs and fish there appeared
no
traces. There were chutneys, fruit and vegetables preserved in
vinegar
and honey, panchamrits, a mixture of pampello-berries, tamarinds,
cocoa
milk, treacle and olive oil, and kushmer, made of radishes, honey
and
flour; there were also burning hot pickles and spices. All this
was
crowned with a mountain of exquisitely cooked rice and another
mountain
of chapatis, which are something like brown pancakes. The dishes
stood
in four rows, each row containing twelve dishes; and between the
rows
burned three aromatic sticks of the size of a small church taper.
Our
part of the hall was brightly lit with green and red candles. The
chandeliers
which held these candles were of a very queer shape. They
each represented
the trunk of a tree with a seven-headed cobra wound
round it. From each of
the seven mouths rose a red or a green wax candle
of spiral form like a
corkscrew. Draughts blowing from behind every
pillar fluttered the yellow
flames, filling the roomy refectory with
fantastic moving shadows, and
causing both our lightly-clad gentlemen
to sneeze very frequently. Leaving
the dark silhouettes of the Hindus
in comparative obscurity, this unsteady
light made the two white figures
still more conspicuous, as if making a
masquerade of them and laughing
at them.
The relatives and friends of
our host came in one after the other. They
were all naked down to the waist,
all barefooted, all wore the triple
Brahmanical thread and white silk dhutis,
and their hair hung loose.
Every sahib was followed by his own servant, who
carried his cup, his
silver, or even gold, jug filled with water, and his
towel. All of them,
having saluted the host, greeted us, the palms of their
hands pressed
together and touching their foreheads, their breasts, and then
the
floor. They all said to us: "Ram-Ram" and "Namaste" (salutation
to
thee), and then made straight for their respective seats in
perfect
silence. Their civilities reminded me that the custom of greeting
each
other with the twice pronounced name of some ancestor was usual in
the
remotest antiquity.
We all sat down, the Hindus calm and stately,
as if preparing for some
mystic celebration, we ourselves feeling awkward and
uneasy, fearing to
prove guilty of some unpardonable blunder. An invisible
choir of women's
voices chanted a monotonous hymn, celebrating the glory of
the gods.
These were half a dozen nautch-girls from a neighboring pagoda. To
this
accompaniment we began satisfying our appetites. Thanks to the
Babu's
instructions, we took great care to eat only with our right hands.
This
was somewhat difficult, because we were hungry and hasty, but
quite
necessary. Had we only so much as touched the rice with our left
hands
whole hosts of Rakshasas (demons) would have been attracted to take
part
in the festivity that very moment; which, of course, would send all
the
Hindus out of the room. It is hardly necessary to say that there were
no
traces of forks, knives or spoons. That I might run no risk of
breaking
the rule I put my left hand in my pocket and held on to
my
pocket-handkerchief all the time the dinner lasted.
The singing
lasted only a few minutes. During the rest of the time a
dead silence reigned
amongst us. It was Monday, a fast day, and so
the usual absence of noise at
meal times had to be observed still more
strictly than on any other day.
Usually a man who is compelled to break
the silence by some emergency or
other hastens to plunge into water
the middle finger of his left hand, which
till then had remained hidden
behind his back, and to moisten both his
eyelids with it. But a really
pious man would not be content with this simple
formula of purification;
having spoken, he must leave the dining-room, wash
thoroughly, and then
abstain from food for the remainder of the
day.
Thanks to this solemn silence, I was at liberty to notice
everything
that was going on with great attention. Now and again, whenever I
caught
sight of the colonel or Mr. Y----, I had all the difficulty in the
world
to preserve my gravity. Fits of foolish laughter would take
possession
of me when I observed them sitting erect with such comical
solemnity and
working so awkwardly with their elbows and hands. The long
beard of the
one was white with grains of rice, as if silvered with
hoar-frost,
the chin of the other was yellow with liquid saffron. But
unsatisfied
curiosity happily came to my rescue, and I went on watching the
quaint
proceedings of the Hindus.
Each of them, having sat down with
his legs twisted under him, poured
some water with his left hand out of the
jug brought by the servant,
first into his cup, then into the palm of his
right hand. Then he
slowly and carefully sprinkled the water round a dish
with all kinds
of dainties, which stood by itself, and was destined, as we
learned
afterwards, for the gods. During this procedure each Hindu repeated
a
Vedic mantram. Filling his right hand with rice, he pronounced a
new
series of couplets, then, having stored five pinches of rice on
the
right side of his own plate, he once more washed his hands to avert
the
evil eye, sprinkled more water, and pouring a few drops of it into
his
right palm, slowly drank it. After this he swallowed six pinches
of
rice, one after the other, murmuring prayers all the while, and
wetted
both his eyes with the middle finger of his left hand. All this
done,
he finally hid his left hand behind his back, and began eating with
the
right hand. All this took only a few minutes, but was performed
very
solemnly.
The Hindus ate with their bodies bent over the food,
throwing it up and
catching it in their mouths so dexterously that not a
grain of rice
was lost, not a drop of the various liquids spilt. Zealous to
show
his consideration for his host, the colonel tried to imitate all
these
movements. He contrived to bend over his food almost horizontally,
but,
alas! he could not remain long in this position. The natural weight
of
his powerful limbs overcame him, he lost his balance and nearly
tumbled
head foremost, dropping his spectacles into a dish of sour milk
and
garlic. After this unsuccessful experience the brave American gave
up
all further attempts to become "Hinduized," and sat very
quietly.
The supper was concluded with rice mixed with sugar, powdered
peas,
olive oil, garlic and grains of pomegranate, as usual. This
last
dainty is consumed hurriedly. Everyone nervously glances askance at
his
neighbor, and is mortally afraid of being the last to finish,
because
this is considered a very bad sign. To conclude, they all take
some
water into their mouths, murmuring prayers the while, and this time
they
must swallow it in one gulp. Woe to the one who chokes! 'Tis a
clear
sign that a bhuta has taken possession of his throat. The
unfortunate
man must run for his life and get purified before the
altar.
The poor Hindus are very much troubled by these wicked bhutas,
the
souls of the people who have died with ungratified desires and
earthly
passions. Hindu spirits, if I am to believe the unanimous
assertions
of one and all, are always swarming round the living, always ready
to
satisfy their hunger with other people's mouths and gratify their
impure
desires with the help of organs temporarily stolen from the living.
They
are feared and cursed all over India. No means to get rid of them
are
despised. The notions and conclusions of the Hindus on this
point
categorically contradict the aspirations and hopes of
Western
spiritualists.
"A good and pure spirit, they are confident,
will not let his soul
revisit the earth, if this soul is equally pure. He is
glad to die and
unite himself to Brahma, to live an eternal life in Svarga
(heaven) and
enjoy the society of the beautiful Gandharvas or singing angels.
He is
glad to slumber whole eternities, listening to their songs, whilst
his
soul is purified by a new incarnation in a body, which is more
perfect
than the one the soul abandoned previously."
The Hindus
believe that the spirit or Atma, a particle of the GREAT
ALL, which is
Parabrahm, cannot be punished for sins in which it never
participated. It is
Manas, the animal intelligence, and the animal
soul or Jiva, both half
material illusions, that sin and suffer and
transmigrate from one body into
the other till they purify themselves.
The spirit merely overshadows their
earthly transmigrations. When the
Ego has reached the final state of purity,
it will be one with the Atma,
and gradually will merge and disappear in
Parabrahm.
But this is not what awaits the wicked souls. The soul that
does not
succeed in getting rid of earthly cares and desires before the death
of
the body is weighed down by its sins, and, instead of reincarnating
in
some new form, according to the laws of metempsychosis, it will
remain
bodiless, doomed to wander on earth. It will become a bhuta, and by
its
own sufferings will cause unutterable sufferings to its kinsmen. That
is
why the Hindu fears above all things to remain bodiless after his
death.
"It is better for one to enter the body of a tiger, of a dog, even
of a
yellow-legged falcon, after death, than to become a bhuta!" an old
Hindu
said to me on one occasion. "Every animal possesses a body of his
own
and a right to make an honest use of it. Whereas the bhutas are
doomed
dakoits, brigands and thieves, they are ever watching for an
opportunity
to use what does not belong to them. This is a horrible state--a
horror
indescribable. This is the true hell. What is this spiritualism
they
talk so much of in the West? Is it possible the intelligent English
and
Americans are so mad as this?"
And all our remonstrances
notwithstanding, he refused to believe that
there are actually people who are
fond of bhutas, who would do much to
attract them into their
homes.
After supper the men went again to the family well to wash, and
then
dressed themselves.
Usually at this hour of the night the Hindus
put on clean malmalas,
a kind of tight shirt, white turbans, and wooden
sandals with knobs
pressed between the toes. These curious shoes are left at
the door
whilst their owners return to the hall and sit down along the
walls
on carpets and cushions to chew betel, smoke hookahs and cheroots,
to
listen to sacred reading, and to witness the dances of the
nautches.
But this evening, probably in our honor, all the Hindus
dressed
magnificently. Some of them wore darias of rich striped satin, no end
of
gold bangles, necklaces mounted with diamonds and emeralds, gold
watches
and chains, and transparent Brahmanical scarfs with gold
embroidery.
The fat fingers and the right ear of our host were simply blazing
with
diamonds.
The women, who waited on us during the meal,
disappeared afterwards
for a considerable time. When they came back they also
were luxuriously
overdressed and were introduced to us formally as the ladies
of the
house. They were five: the wife of the host, a woman of twenty-six
or
twenty-seven years of age, then two others looking somewhat younger,
one
of whom carried a baby, and, to our great astonishment, was
introduced
as the married daughter of the hostess; then the old mother of the
host
and a little girl of seven, the wife of one of his brothers. So that
our
hostess turned out to be a grandmother, and her sister-in-law, who
was
to enter finally into matrimony in from two to three years, might
have
become a mother before she was twelve. They were all barefooted,
with
rings on each of their toes, and all, with the exception of the
old
woman, wore garlands of natural flowers round their necks and in
their
jet black hair. Their tight bodices, covered with embroidery, were
so
short that between them and the sari there was a good quarter of a
yard
of bare skin. The dark, bronze-coloured waists of these
well-shaped
Women were boldly presented to any one's examination and
reflected the
lights of the room. Their beautiful arms and their ankles were
covered
with bracelets. At the least of their movements they all set up
a
tinkling silvery sound, and the little sister-in-law, who might
easily
be mistaken for an automaton doll, could hardly move under her load
of
ornaments. The young grandmother, our hostess, had a ring in her
left
nostril, which reached to the lower part of the chin. Her nose
was
considerably disfigured by the weight of the gold, and we noticed
how
unusually handsome she was only when she took it off to enable
herself
to drink her tea with some comfort.
The dances of the nautch
girls began. Two of them were very pretty.
Their dancing consisted chiefly in
more or less expressive movements
of their eyes, their heads, and even their
ears, in fact, of the whole
upper part of their bodies. As to their legs,
they either did not move
at all or moved with such a swiftness as to appear
in a cloud of mist.
After this eventful day I slept the sleep of the
just.
After many nights spent in a tent, it is more than
agreeable to sleep in
a regular bed, even if it is only a hanging one. The
pleasure would, no
doubt, have been considerably increased had I but known I
was resting on
the couch of a god. But this latter circumstance was revealed
to me only
in the morning, when descending the staircase I suddenly
discovered
the poor general en chef, Hanuman, deprived of his cradle
and
unceremoniously stowed away under the stairs. Decidedly, the Hindus
of
the nineteenth century are a degenerate and blaspheming race!
In
the course of the morning we learned that this swinging throne of
his, and an
ancient sofa, were the only pieces of furniture in the whole
house that could
be transformed into beds.
Neither of our gentlemen had spent a
comfortable night. They slept in an
empty tower that was once the altar of a
decayed pagoda and was situated
behind the main building. In assigning to
them this strange resting
place, the host was guided by the praiseworthy
intention of protecting
them from the jackals, which freely penetrate into
all the rooms of the
ground floor, as they are pierced by numberless arches
and have no
door and no window frames. The jackals, however, did not trouble
the
gentlemen much that night, except by giving their nightly concert.
But
both Mr. Y---- and the colonel had to fight all the night long with
a
vampire, which, besides being a flying fox of an unusual size,
happened
to be a spirit, as we learned too late, to our great
misfortune.
This is how it happened. Noiselessly hovering about the
tower, the
vampire from time to time alighted on the sleepers, making them
shudder
under the disgusting touch of his cold sticky wings. His
intention
clearly was to get a nice suck of European blood. They were wakened
by
his manipulations at least ten times, and each time frightened him
away.
But, as soon as they were dozing again, the wretched bat was sure
to
return and perch on their shoulders, heads, or legs. At last Mr.
Y----,
losing patience, had recourse to strong measures; he caught him
and
broke his neck.
Feeling perfectly innocent, the gentlemen
mentioned the tragic end of
the troublesome flying fox to their host, and
instantly drew down on
their heads all the thunder-clouds of
heaven.
The yard was crowded with people. All the inhabitants of the
house stood
sorrowfully drooping their heads, at the entrance of the tower.
Our
host's old mother tore her hair in despair, and shrieked lamentations
in
all the languages of India. What was the matter with them all? We
were
at our wits' end. But when we learned the cause of all this, there
was
no limit to our confusion.
By certain mysterious signs, known only
to the family Brahman, it had
been decided ten years ago that the soul of our
host's elder brother had
incarnated in this blood-thirsty vampire-bat. This
fact was stated as
being beyond any doubt. For nine years the late Patarah
Prabhu existed
under this new shape, carrying out the laws of metempsychosis.
He spent
the hours between sunrise and the sunset in an old pipal-tree before
the
tower, hanging with his head downwards. But at night he visited
the
old tower and gave fierce chase to the insects that sought rest
in
this out-of-the-way corner. And so nine years were spent in this
happy
existence, divided between sleep, food, and the gradual redemption
of
old sins committed in the shape of a Patarah Prabhu. And now? Now
his
listless body lay in the dust at the entrance of his favorite
tower,
and his wings were half devoured by the rats. The poor old woman,
his
mother, was mad with sorrow, and cast, through her tears,
reproachful,
angry looks at Mr. Y----, who, in his new capacity of a
heartless
murderer, looked disgustingly composed.
But the affair was
growing serious. The comical side of it disappeared
before the sincerity and
the intensity of her lamentations. Her
descendants, grouped around her, were
too polite to reproach us openly,
but the expression of their faces was far
from reassuring. The family
priest and astrologer stood by the old lady,
Shastras in hand, ready to
begin the ceremony of purification. He solemnly
covered the corpse with
a piece of new linen, and so hid from our eyes the
sad remains on which
ants were literally swarming.
Mr. Y---- did his
best to look unconcerned, but still, when the tactless
Miss X---- came to
him, expressing her loud indignation at all these
superstitions of an
inferior race, he at least seemed to remember that
our host knew English
perfectly, and he did not encourage her farther
expressions of sympathy. He
made no answer, but smiled contemptuously.
Our host approached the colonel
with respectful salaams and invited us
to follow him.
"No doubt he is
going to ask us to leave his house immediately!" was my
uncomfortable
impression.
But my apprehension was not justified. At this epoch of my
Indian
pilgrimage I was far, as yet, from having fathomed the
metaphysical
depth of a Hindu heart.
Sham Rao began by delivering a
very far-fetched, eloquent preface.
He reminded us that he, personally, was
an enlightened man, a man who
possessed all the advantages of a Western
education. He said that, owing
to this, he was not quite sure that the body
of the vampire was actually
inhabited by his late brother. Darwin, of course,
and some other great
naturalists of the West, seemed to believe in the
transmigration of
souls, but, as far as he understood, they believed in it in
an inverse
sense; that is to say, if a baby had been born to his mother
exactly at
the moment of the vampire's death, this baby would indubitably
have
had a great likeness to a vampire, owing to the decaying atoms of
the
vampire being so close to her.
"Is not this an exact
interpretation of the Darwinian school?" he asked.
We modestly answered
that, having traveled almost incessantly during the
last year, we could not
help being a bit behindhand in the questions
of modern science, and that we
were not able to follow its latest
conclusions.
"But I have followed
them!" rejoined the good-natured Sham Rao, with a
touch of pomposity. "And so
I hope I may be allowed to say that I have
understood and duly appreciated
their most recent developments. I have
just finished studying the magnificent
Anthropogenesis of Haeckel,
and have carefully discussed in my own mind his
logical, scientific
explanations of the origin of man from inferior animal
forms through
transformation. And what is this transformation, pray, if not
the
transmigration of the ancient and modern Hindus, and the
metempsychosis
of the Greeks?"
We had nothing to say against the
identity, and even ventured to observe
that, according to Haeckel, it does
look like it.
"Exactly!" exclaimed he joyfully. "This shows that our
conceptions are
neither silly nor superstitious, as is maintained by some
opponents
of Manu. The great Manu, anticipated Darwin and Haeckel. Judge
for
yourself; the latter derives the genesis of man from a group
of
plastides, from the jelly-like moneron; this moneron, through
the
ameoba, the ascidian, the brainless and heartless amphioxus, and so
on,
transmigrates in the eighth remove into the lamprey, is transformed,
at
last, into a vertebrate amniote, into a premammalian, into a
marsupial
animal.... The vampire, in its turn, belongs to the species
of
vertebrates. You, being well read people all of you, cannot
contradict
this statement." He was right in his supposition; we did not
contradict
it.
"In this case, do me the honor to follow my
argument...."
We did follow his argument with the greatest attention, but
were at a
loss to foresee whither it tended to lead us.
"Darwin,"
continued Sham Rao, "in his Origin of Species, re-established
almost word for
word the palin-genetic teachings of our Manu. Of this I
am perfectly
convinced, and, if you like, I can prove it to you book in
hand. Our ancient
law-giver, amongst other sayings, speaks as follows:
'The great Parabrahm
commanded man to appear in the universe, after
traversing all the grades of
the animal kingdom, and springing primarily
from the worm of the deep sea
mud.' The worm be-came a snake, the snake
a fish, the fish a mammal, and so
on. Is not this very idea at the
bottom of Darwin's theory, when he maintains
that the organic forms have
their origin in more simple species, and says
that the structureless
protoplasm born in the mud of the Laurentian and
Silurian periods--the
Manu's 'mud of the seas,' I dare say--gradually
transformed itself into
the anthropoid ape, and then finally into the human
being?"
We said it looked very like it.
"But, in spite of all my
respect for Darwin and his eminent follower
Haeckel, I cannot agree with
their final conclusions, especially with
the conclusions of the latter,"
continued Sham Rao. "This hasty and
bilious German is perfectly accurate in
copying the embryology of Manu
and all the metamorphoses of our ancestors,
but he forgets the evolution
of the human soul, which, as it is stated by
Manu, goes hand in hand
with the evolution of matter. The son of Swayambhuva,
the Self Becoming,
speaks as follows: 'Everything created in a new cycle, in
addition to
the qualities of its preceding transmigrations, acquires new
qualities,
and the nearer it approaches to man, the highest type of the
earth, the
brighter becomes its divine spark; but, once it has become a
Brahma, it
will enter the cycle of conscious transmigrations.' Do you realize
what
that means? It means that from this moment, its transformations
depend
no longer on the blind laws of gradual evolution, but on the least of
a
man's actions, which brings either a reward or a punishment. Now you
see
that it depends on the man's will whether, on the one hand, he will
start on
the way to Moksha, the eternal bliss, passing from one Loka to
another till
he reaches Brahmaloka, or, on the other, owing to his sins,
will be thrown
back. You know that the average soul, once freed from
earthly reincarnations,
has to ascend from one Loka to another, always
in the human shape, though
this shape will grow and perfect itself with
every Loka. Some of our sects
understood these Lokas to mean certain
stars. These spirits, freed from
earthly matter, are what we mean by
Pitris and Devas, whom we worship. And
did not your Kabalists of the
middle ages designate these Pitris under the
expression Planetary
Spirits? But, in the case of a very sinful man, he will
have to
begin once more with the animal forms which he had already
traversed
unconsciously. Both Darwin and Haeckel lose sight of this, so to
speak,
second volume of their incomplete theory, but still neither of
them
advances any argument to prove it false. Is it not so?"
"Neither
of them does anything of the sort, most assuredly."
"Why, in this case,"
exclaimed he, suddenly changing his colloquial tone
for an aggressive one,
"why am I, I who have studied the most modern
ideas of Western science, I who
believe in its representatives--why am I
suspected, pray, by Miss X---- of
belonging to the tribe of the
ignorant and superstitious Hindus? Why does she
think that our perfected
scientific theories are superstitions, and we
ourselves a fallen
inferior race?"
Sham Rao stood before us with tears
in his eyes. We were at a loss what
to answer him, being confused to the last
degree by this outburst.
"Mind you, I do not proclaim our popular beliefs
to be infallible
dogmas. I consider them as mere theories, and try to the
best of my
ability to reconcile the ancient and the modern science. I
formulate
hypotheses just like Darwin and Haeckel. Besides, if I
understood
rightly, Miss X---- is a spiritualist, so she believes in bhutas.
And,
believing that a bhuta is capable of penetrating the body of a
medium,
how can she deny that a bhuta, and more so a less sinful soul, may
enter
the body of a vampire-bat?"
I own, this logic was a little too
condensed for us, and so, avoiding a
direct answer to a metaphysical question
of such delicacy, we tried to
apologize and excuse Miss X----'s rudeness as
well as we could.
"She did not mean to offend you," we said, "she only
repeated a calumny,
familiar to every European. Besides, if she had taken the
trouble to
think it over, she probably would not have said
it...."
Little by little we succeeded in pacifying our host. He recovered
his
usual cheerfulness, but could not resist the temptation of adding
a
few words to his long argumentation. He had just begun to reveal to
us
certain peculiarities of his late brother's character, which induced
him
to be prepared, judging by the laws of atavism, to see their
repetition
in the propensities of a vampire bat, when Mr. Y----suddenly
dashed in
on our small group and spoiled all the results of our conciliatory
words
by screaming at the top of his voice: "The old woman has gone
demented!
She keeps on cursing us and says that the murder of this wretched
bat
is only the forerunner of a whole series of misfortunes brought on
her
house by you, Sham Rao," said he, hastily addressing the
bewildered
follower of Haackel. "She says you have polluted your
Brahmanical
holiness by inviting us. Colonel, you had better send for the
elephants.
In another moment all this crowd will be on us..."
"For
goodness' sake!" exclaimed poor Sham Rao, "have some consideration
for my
feelings. She is an old woman, she has some superstitions, but
she is my
mother. You are educated people, learned people... Advise me,
show me a way
out of all these difficulties. What should you do in my
place?"
"What
should I do, sir?" exclaimed Mr. Y----, completely put out of
temper by the
utter ludicrousness of our awkward predicament. "What
should I do? Were I a
man in your position and a believer in all you
are brought up to believe, I
should take my revolver, and in the first
place, shoot all the vampire bats
in the neighborhood, if only to rid
all your late relations from the abject
bodies of these creatures,
and, in the second place, I should endeavor to
smash the head of the
conceited fraud in the shape of a Brahman who invented
all this stupid
story. That is what I should do, sir!"
But this advice
did not content the miserable descendant of Rama. No
doubt he would have
remained a long time undecided as to what course
of action to adopt, torn as
he was between the sacred feelings of
hospitality, the innate fear of the
Brahman-priest, and his own
superstitions, if our ingenious Babu had not come
to our rescue.
Learning that we all felt more or less indignant at all this
row, and
that we were preparing to leave the house as quickly as
possible,
he persuaded us to stay, if only for an hour, saying that our
hasty
departure would be a terrible outrage upon our host, whom, in any
case,
we could not find fault with. As to the stupid old woman, the
Babu
promised us to pacify her speedily enough: he had his own plans
and
views. In the meantime, he said, we had better go and examine the
ruins
of an old fortress close by.
We obeyed very reluctantly, feeling
an acute interest in his "plans." We
proceeded slowly. Our gentlemen were
visibly out of temper. Miss X----
tried to calm herself by talking more than
usual, and Narayan, as
phlegmatic as usual, indolently and good-naturedly
chaffed her about
her beloved "spirits." Glancing back we saw the Babu
accompanied by the
family priest. Judging by their gestures they were engaged
in some warm
discussion. The shaven head of the Brahman nodded right and
left, his
yellow garment flapped in the wind, and his arms rose towards the
sky,
as if in an appeal to the gods to come down and testify to the truth
of
his words.
"I'll bet you a thousand dollars, no plans of our Babu's
will be of any
avail with this fanatic!" confidently remarked the colonel as
he lit his
pipe.
But we had hardly walked a hundred steps after this
remark when we saw
the Babu running after us and signaling us to
stop.
"Everything ended first-rate!" screamed he, as soon as we could
hear.
"You are to be thanked... You happen to be the true saviours
and
benefactors of the deceased bhuta... You..."
Our Babu sank on the
ground holding his narrow, panting breast with both
his hands, and laughed,
laughed till we all burst into laughter too,
before learning any-thing at
all.
"Think of it," began the Babu, and stopped short, prevented from
going
on by his exuberant hilarity. "Just think of it! The whole
transaction
is to cost me only ten rupees.... I offered five at first... but
he
would not.... He said this was a sacred matter..... But ten he could
not
resist! Ho, ho, ho...."
At last we learned the story. All the
metempsychoses depend on the
imagination of the family Gurus, who receive for
their kind offices
from one hundred to one hundred and fifty rupees a year.
Every rite is
accompanied by a more or less considerable addition to the
purse of the
insatiable family Brahman, but the happy events pay better than
the
sad ones. Knowing all this, the Babu asked the Brahman point-blank
to
perform a false samadhi, that is to say, to feign an inspiration and
to
announce to the sorrowing mother that her late son's will had
acted
consciously in all the circumstances; that he brought about his
end
in the body of the flying fox, that he was tired of that grade
of
transmigration, that he longed for death in order to attain a
higher
position in the animal kingdom, that he is happy, and that he is
deeply
indebted to the sahib who broke his neck and so freed him from
his
abject embodiment.
Besides, the observant eye of our all-knowing
Babu had not failed to
remark that a she-buffalo of the Guru's was expecting
a calf, and that
the Guru was yearning to sell it to Sham Rao. This
circumstance was
a trump card in the Babu's hand. Let the Guru announce,
under the
influence of samadhi, that the freed spirit intends to inhabit the
body
of the future baby-buffalo and the old lady will buy the new
incarnation
of her first-born as sure as the sun is bright. This announcement
will
be followed by rejoicings and by new rites. And who will profit by
all
this if not the family priest?
At first the Guru had some
misgivings, and swore by everything sacred
that the vampire bat was veritably
inhabited by the brother of Sham
Rao. But the Babu knew better than to give
in. The Guru ended by
understanding that his skillful opponent saw through
his tricks, and
that he was well aware that the Shastras exclude the
possibility of such
a transmigration. Growing alarmed, the Guru also grew
meek, and asked
only ten rupees and a promise of silence for the performance
of a
samadhi.
On our way back we were met at the gate by Sham Rao, who
was simply
radiant. Whether he was afraid of our laughing at him, or was at
loss to
find an explanation of this new metamorphosis in the positive
sciences
in general, and Haeckel in particular, he did not attempt to explain
why
the affair had taken such an unexpectedly good turn. He
merely
mentioned awkwardly enough that his mother, owing to some new
mysterious
conjectures of hers, had dismissed all sad apprehensions as
to
the destiny of her elder son, and he then dropped the
subject
completely.----
In order to wipe away the traces of the
morning's perplexities from our
minds, Sham Rao invited us to sit on the
verandah, by the wide entrance
of his idol room, whilst the family prayers
were going on. Nothing
could suit us better. It was nine o'clock, the usual
time of the morning
prayers. Sham Rao went to the well to get ready, and
dress himself, as
he said, though the process was more like undressing. In a
few moments
he came back wearing only a dhuti, as during dinner time, and
with his
head uncovered. He went straight to his idol room. The moment he
entered
we heard the loud stroke of a bell that hung under the ceiling, and
that
continued tolling all the time the prayers lasted.
The Babu
explained to us that a little boy was pulling the bell rope
from the
roof.
Sham Rao stepped in with his right foot and very slowly. Then
he
approached the altar and sat on a little stool with his legs
crossed.
At the opposite side of the room, on the red velvet shelves of an
altar
that resembled an etagere in the drawing-room of some fashionable
lady,
stood many idols. They were made of gold, of silver, of brass and
of
marble, according to their im-portance and merits. Maha-Deva or
Shiva
was of gold. Gunpati or Ganesha of silver, Vishnu in the form of a
round
black stone from the river Gandaki in Nepal. In this form Vishnu
is
called Lakshmi-Narayan. There were also many other gods unknown to
us,
who were worshipped in the shapes of big sea-shells, called
Chakra.
Surya, the god of the sun, and the kula-devas, the domestic gods,
were
placed in the second rank. The altar was sheltered by a cupola of
carved
sandal-wood. During the night the gods and the offerings were
covered
by a huge bell glass. On the walls there were many sacred
images
representing the chief episodes in the biographies of the higher
gods.
Sham Rao filled his left hand with ashes, murmuring prayers all
the
while, covered it for a second with the right one, then put some
matter
to the ashes, and mixing the two by rubbing his hands together,
he
traced a line on his face with this mixture by moving the thumb of
his
right hand from his nose upwards, then from the middle of the
forehead
to the right temple, then back again to the left temple. Having
done
with his face he proceeded to cover with wet ashes his throat,
arms,
shoulders, his back, head and ears. In one corner of the room stood
a
huge bronze font filled with water. Sham Rao made straight to it
and
plunged into it three times, dhuti, head, and all, after which he
came
out looking exactly like a well-favored dripping wet Triton. He twisted
the only lock of hair on the top of his shaved head and sprinkled it with water.
This operation concluded the first act. |
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