INDIAN WRESTLERS
Wrestling. Village gymnasiums. Wrestling contests. The
prizes. Rustic festivals. Modern novelties. Mineral waters.
Ice cream. Incandescent lights. The music. Absence of
merriment. The dull crowd. Return of the victor. National
characteristics apparent when playing games.
Wrestling is the chief indigenous athletic exercise of India. Nearly
every village has its band of wrestlers and its gymnasium. The latter
is often a substantial house as village houses go, much decorated with
wall paintings inside and out. Besides the wrestling-pit, with its
thick layer of soft earth, it often contains Indian clubs, large
stones with which the young men exercise their muscles after the
manner of dumb-bells, the post round which they twist and twirl to
develop their arms and legs, and the drums which they beat in the
temple and elsewhere on festivals.
Every village of importance has its annual wrestling day, to which
people come from many miles round. Prizes are given from a fund
subscribed by the villagers. It is a point of honour that no one
competes in his own village, so that all the prizes may go to
outsiders. The wrestling is conducted with much decorum, in accordance
with exact and well-recognised rules. The decision of the referee
appears to be nearly always accepted without dispute; or if ever there
is a difference of opinion, the arbitration of one or two of the
elders amongst the villagers is generally sufficient. If arbitration
fails, a free fight is the only way of settling the matter; but such
incidents are rare.
The prize is generally a turban, and however many turbans a man
already possesses he likes to add to their number. Sometimes there is
a good deal of very audible grumbling if the quality of the turban is
thought to be defective. Now and then important contests between
champions in the world of wrestlers are held in cities like Poona, and
there is a charge for admission, and the prizes are of value, gold and
silver rings and sums of money. Wrestlers train carefully when they
are preparing for a contest, according to their own ideas of training,
and they drink a great deal of milk. The best side of Indian village
life is to be found in this sport, and as it is one of the few things
which is not tainted by idolatry, I could always accept with pleasure
an invitation to the gymnasium, or to be present on the annual sports
day.
[Illustration: THE YERANDAWANA VILLAGE WRESTLERS OPPOSITE THEIR
GYMNASIUM.]
In our village little dinner-parties take place in the houses (or,
rather, outside the houses) of the principal farmers, the evening
before the annual wrestling competition. Feasts are nearly always
held in the open air, partly because most of the houses are so small
that there is not room inside to seat the guests; and also because
low-caste people, who would not be allowed to come indoors, can be fed
in the open so long as they sit a little apart from the rest.
Modern novelties are creeping into rustic festivals. Mineral waters of
native manufacture, and often astonishingly brilliant in colour, have
become a recognised luxury at such times; especially since it has
become an understood thing that no breach of caste is involved if you
drink your soda-water direct from the bottle. Enclosed in its glass
case the liquid could not have been contaminated by any external
touch, and there is no need to go so far back in its history as to ask
who made the soda-water. The ice-cream man, calling out his wares in
what is meant to be English, does a large trade in spite of the
microscopic nature of his helpings. Native torches are being
supplanted by the powerful incandescent lights of recent times, and
one or two of these are hired for the occasion, and are brought out
from Poona on the heads of coolies, and burn all night somewhere in
the centre of the village. It is an essential element of all Indian
festal enjoyments that they should begin in the evening and last all
night. Extremes meet, and this is a peculiarity which the Indian
social world seems to share, at any rate to a large extent, with the
fashionable world in England. Of course a band is also a necessary
feature.
I went down into the village one morning, after one of their festal
nights, and found most of the villagers seated under the shade of a
large tree listening to the band which, usually so indefatigable, was
strumming rather feebly after its all-night exertions. It was
accompanying a poor, faded-looking woman, who was singing in a
peculiar hoarse voice, with a slight attempt at action, and a feeble
sort of skip at the end of each stanza. I did not understand what she
was singing, but I soon withdrew, because the songs sung at such times
are said to be nearly always bristling with improprieties.
But Indians take most of their pleasures sadly, and the curious
feature of the whole scene was the complete absence of anything
corresponding to fun or merriment. Both the singer and the members of
the band were evidently meaning to be funny, but the audience might
have been listening to a dull sermon in church, so far as their grave
and uninterested faces were concerned. A visitor at any time almost
during the festivities would have found them in the same condition.
Even when feasting, beyond a certain enjoyment in the process, there
is no indication of merriment in the silent meal.
The wrestling competitions began in the late afternoon, when the power
of the sun had a little moderated, and lasted until dusk. They were
held in a field just outside the village, on newly ploughed land,
which affords a soft bed for the combatants when they fall. Many
large and beautiful mango-trees gave welcome shade to the two or three
thousand spectators, who formed an immense and deep ring round the
arena. Some of the young men of the place, armed with sticks,
displayed much energy in keeping the ground clear. The elders of the
village arranged the order of proceedings, and who was to compete with
who. But in spite of the great assembly taking evident interest in
what was going on, and especially in the spirited contests between
boy-wrestlers, it was a distinctly dull crowd, and there was little
animation in the faces of those who were watching the events closely.
The only group in which something approaching to cheerfulness was
visible was in the knot of customers gathered round the sellers of
fruit and drinks. On the road home the crowd sometimes shows a measure
of joviality, and it is always customary to usher victorious wrestlers
into their own village with shouts and loud proclamation of what has
been accomplished. After a victory in one of the big city contests the
hero may even be escorted home with lights and music.
It is in games, perhaps, more than in anything else, that national
characteristics make themselves apparent. This is specially noticeable
in India when anyone gets injured in sports or cricket, or if he has
run an exhausting race. The Englishman hates to be fussed over, says
that his injury is nothing, and that he can walk home quite easily,
when perhaps his leg is broken; and he feels dreadfully ashamed of
himself if he collapses at the finish of a race. The Indian, on the
contrary, makes extraordinary demonstrations over a slight injury; he
flings himself on the ground, and is apparently at the point of death.
His friends rush for water, and chafe his hands and legs, and they
think the Englishman unfeeling if he ventures to say that he thinks
the sufferer will soon be better. After these performances have gone
on for a sufficient time, the injured man quietly gets up and resumes
the game.
Almost invariably, at the end of any race, the winner thinks it
necessary to put on the appearance of great exhaustion as long as
anyone is looking at him. But when interest is diverted by
preparations for the next race, the fit of exhaustion is easily
concluded, and the sufferer joins the crowd as if nothing had
happened.