CHAPTER XXXIX

PROVERBIAL SAYINGS ABOUT INDIA

Inaccurate statements. Village trades dependent on demand.

Platforms for the bird-scarers. Shop lamps of the city.

Supposed ascetics. Uncertainty of the monsoon; how it comes.

Cold in India; how an Indian deals with it; he cannot work

if he is cold. Englishmen and the Indian sun.

There are a number of sayings and statements about India and its

people which are either inaccurate or misleading, but which have

become almost proverbial, and which are copied from book to book, and

conveyed to new-comers by word of mouth, and their often mistaken

impressions of many simple things are partly caused by the erroneous

expressions and descriptions which they have heard or read. It takes

the first several years of a residence in India to gradually unlearn

the things which have been wrongly learnt. The stray visitor does not

stay long enough to get his view straightened out, and when he returns

to write his book about India he repeats the off-told tale.

It is often stated in books that in each village a representative of

every trade which supplies the ordinary wants of the inhabitants is to

be found--such as the barber, carpenter, blacksmith, potter, cobbler,

etc. But there is no rule about this, and it depends, just as it does

in English villages, on the size of the place and the demands of

trade. In many villages there is no resident barber, and the people

depend on the chance visits of one who itinerates. Blacksmiths are,

for the most part, wandering people who come and settle down near a

village for a few weeks or months, and then, when trade grows dull,

move on to a fresh pitch. The potter is now only to be met with here

and there. It is a sign of the increasing prosperity of India that

brass and copper vessels are largely taking the place of the

earthenware cooking-pots. A carpenter is found in almost every

village, because petty repairs to farming implements are an everyday

need. He is a man of some importance, and wears a sacred thread like a

Brahmin.

When travelling in the train from Bombay to Poona for the first time,

I noticed here and there in the corner of many fields a sort of

litter, about the length of a man, raised on rough poles about six

feet high, and on it a mysterious heap of rubbish. I remember vaguely

to have read that the bodies of the dead in the East are exposed to be

devoured by birds, and I jumped to the conclusion that the platforms

were erected for this purpose, and that the heap of rubbish was the

remains of the corpse, and that solitary places in remote fields were

chosen in order that the dead might not be any annoyance to the

living. As a matter of fact, it is only the Parsees who place their

dead on tower-like structures, built for the purpose, to be disposed

of by the vultures.

I learnt in due course that these rural platforms are for the use of

boys who scare away birds and other creatures from the ripening crops,

and I have not unfrequently accepted the hospitable invitation of some

of the village boys to climb up on to the platform and share their

sport. From their post of vantage they can survey the whole field, and

they sling stones with marvellous force and accuracy to whatever

quarter the birds are attacking. They also make a din by beating empty

oil-tins, and use clappers as the country boys at home do. The heap of

rubbish only consists of the leaves and grass which the boys collect

to make their seat on the perch more comfortable, because they often

keep vigil for the whole of a long day.

The visitor having read that to the Hindu everything is permeated with

religion, thinks that everything that he sees has some religious

significance. Someone describing his first drive from the Poona

station to the Mission-house through the native city at night, said

how much moved he was at seeing the little flickering lamps burning

before the "idols" in the shops. But a Hindu does not put his

household gods in his shop, and the flickering lamp was merely his

ordinary shop lamp, which a few years back satisfied his wants. There

are some modern inventions which Indians have taken to very readily,

and amongst these are the new ways of producing brilliant light, and

the old-fashioned flickering lamp is now hardly to be seen in Poona.

Going out in the early morning a day or so after my first arrival in

India, I met three or four men walking silently one behind each other,

and wearing what looked something like a coarse brown habit with a

cowl, which they had drawn over their heads so that their faces were

almost hidden. Having heard so often about Indian ascetics, I looked

at them with some curiosity and respect, as being probably of their

number. But in the course of the morning I met so many others of the

same type, that I began to think I must have made a mistake. The

cowl-like habit turned out to be the coarse native blanket, used for

so many purposes by rustic Indians, and which they wear in this

monastic fashion in the, sometimes chill, early mornings, or when it

is wet. Their walking in single file was not in order to assist them

in the preservation of perpetual silence, but because jungle footpaths

make this mode of progression a necessity, and country folk get so

used to walking in this fashion that when they emerge on to the

high-road they preserve the same order.

The monsoon, or rainy season, I had been led to suppose began almost

invariably on a certain date, and that rain then fell continuously for

three months until another fixed day when it left off, after which no

more rain fell till the appointed date of the next year. The

expression, "the monsoon has burst," which is often seen in the

newspapers, suggests the idea that the advent of the rain is

something akin to a deluge produced by the bursting of a great tank.

In reality there is, at times, almost as much uncertainty about

weather in India as there is in England. The most that can be said is

that there are several months in which rain, though possible, is

extremely unlikely, and outdoor festivities can be arranged for

without those anxious watchings of the heavens which is the lot of the

organiser of garden fetes in England.

But the date of the monsoon, its duration, and its quality, are most

uncertain factors and subjects of anxious speculation, and generally

of singularly incorrect prophecy. The country also is so large, and

its characteristics are so varied, that the monsoon not only does not

occur at the same time all over India, but the amount of rainfall

varies enormously in localities not far removed from each other. There

are parts of India where rain hardly ever falls, and there are other

parts where the total rainfall reaches an almost incredible figure.

But it would be possible for a skilful wanderer so to travel about

India that he would never come under the influence of the monsoon at

all.

Nor is its "bursting" otherwise than a rather gradual process. Clouds

slowly gather, rumblings of thunder are heard, lightning flashes about

the mountain tops with great brilliancy, the air is close and

oppressive, there is often violent wind, and dust sweeps into the

bungalow in clouds, a few drops of rain fall, and people hope that

the monsoon has begun. But these symptoms are often prolonged for a

week or two before the real rain comes, and sometimes the clouds

disperse and brilliant sunshine returns for a time. Now and then the

monsoon is almost a complete failure in certain areas, and that means

famine, proportionate to the area which lacks rain. Even when the

monsoon begins in earnest, there is still room for speculation and

anxiety. In some years it ceases prematurely, and then the grain

either does not come into ear, or else the ears are small and parched.

When a good monsoon commences in sober earnest there is often a

combination of high wind and heavy rain which few roofs are proof

against, and a good deal of discomfort indoors is the result. After

the first day or two the wind generally drops, and a steady

perpendicular downpour follows, continuous and heavy according to the

locality, and the character of the monsoon in each year. In Poona and

its neighbourhood the rain rarely continues for many days in

succession, and there come breaks of delightfully bright sunshine. In

some years the rainy season is only spread over about two months, but

in other years it lasts on and off much longer.

Indians are naturally sensitive to cold. In Western India the

thermometer rarely falls very low. Nevertheless the difference between

the day and night temperature is so great in some parts, and the fall

in temperature in the small hours of the morning is so rapid, that it

gives the impression of a sharp frost, even although the thermometer

may have scarcely fallen below 50 deg.. But in the middle of the afternoon

of the previous day it may have registered 90 deg. in the shade, and a

drop of 40 deg. is keenly felt. In January 1911, without any warning, the

temperature one night actually dropped to below freezing, and a film

of ice was found in a plate which had been left out all night, to the

great astonishment of the boys, and much damage was done to fruit

blossom and crops.

The Indian deals with cold in quite a different way to those who have

been brought up in northern countries. If you give him a comforter,

very little of it goes round his neck, but he wraps his head up in it

so that only his eyes and nose are visible, and if his head is warm he

does not seem to mind much about the rest of his frame, especially his

legs, which are generally bare. But instead of trying to counteract

cold by exertion, he delivers himself up to the miseries of the

situation. Clad in his scanty linen garments he crouches, and mopes,

and shivers, and waits for the sun to rise and warm him. Masons and

carpenters and labourers may be seen sitting round about the house

which they are building, waiting to get warm, and until that process

has been satisfactorily completed they will not touch a tool, however

late it may be.

You ask Felix, the boy who sweeps the bungalow, why he has not done

it, and he replies, "I was cold." You say, "You will sweep it as soon

as you are warm?" He says, "Of course." And there is nothing more to

be said, because it is an understood thing that a cold Indian cannot

work. His delight in a fire is intense. People collect leaves and

rubbish and make fires by the roadside, or even in the streets, and

crowds gather round and sit almost into the blaze, so that it is a

wonder that they are not scorched. Their only regret is that the

materials for the bonfire are generally so insufficient.

The joy of sitting in the sun to get warm, which the Indian can do

with impunity, is denied to the Englishman. He must treat the sun with

respect from the time it rises till the time it sets, and even on a

cloudy day the same caution is necessary. This does not mean that it

is unsafe to go out in the sun. It only means that no one should step

out, even for a few moments, without first putting on his sun-hat.

This is a complete safeguard if it is made of real pith of sufficient

thickness, and with a brim wide enough to protect the forehead and the

back of the head and neck. This kind of sun-tope is very light, but in

other respects it is a cumbersome and inconvenient sort of headgear,

and people, especially ladies, are tempted rashly to discard it. Many

ailments, and sometimes serious illnesses, quite apart from actual

sunstroke, may be traced to careless exposure to the sun's rays.

India and the Indians · 第 39 / 47 章