INDIAN UNREST
The umbrella in India; now universal; carried by the police.
The boycott of foreign goods. Political excitement.
Resentment in the Plague Refuge Camp; how it was overcome.
The agency of the Church. An improved type of Hindu
schoolboy; how they dress; their manners; their interest in
religion. Moral teaching in schools. Conceit of some young
students.
The umbrella always has been, and is still to some extent, an
important feature of life in the East. Its importance is derived more
from its recognition as an emblem of dignity than from its practical
utility. It was one of the prerogatives of kings and nobles to have a
gorgeous umbrella borne over their head by one of their retainers. It
is only the gradual levelling up of classes that has made umbrellas
almost universal. Even up to quite modern times there were certain
parts of Poona City where Brahmins live, in which a low-caste man
would not have dared to walk with an umbrella. To do so would have
been regarded as an act of insolent presumption.
But when the barrier of prohibitive custom had once been levelled,
umbrellas came in with a rush, and they are now used to an almost
ludicrous extent. A mason may be seen sitting at work on a wall with
his umbrella in one hand and his trowel in the other. Farm labourers
out in the country, seated on the pole of their bullock-cart, or men
perched on the top of loads of wood in great cities, will enjoy both
the dignity and the shade of their outspread umbrella in the hot
season. That it is assumed in some cases more for dignity than for
actual need, is shown by the readiness with which it is discarded when
convenient, and its bearer sits cheerfully bareheaded in the blazing
sun.
The Bombay police are given umbrellas during the rainy season, and as
the rainfall in that city is very heavy, they are a necessary though
not a convenient burden for a policeman to bear. In Calcutta they go a
step farther, and the umbrellas are served out during the hot season
also, and the police are provided with an arrangement which looks
something like braces worn outside, on to which they hang the umbrella
when they find that it interferes with the discharge of their duties.
Whether the Calcutta policeman really needs this protection from the
sun may be doubted, when the majority of the people in the Calcutta
streets are, by their own choice, entirely bareheaded. But the
appearance of dignity which the umbrella conveys is no doubt an
advantage to the policeman, even if he does not actually need it as a
protection.
A few years back umbrellas of every imaginable size and shape and
colour and degree of disreputability were in evidence in the streets
of Poona City. There was a favourite umbrella with wooden ribs,
covered with a kind of oilcloth, red or yellow in colour, which was a
cheap and useful article. But in these modern days of growing luxury
such umbrellas are despised. "Why do you carry this kind of umbrella?"
said an elegantly dressed young Hindu student to me. "I do so because
it is cheap, and I am poor," was my reply. "You are not poor; you are
rich," was his answer.
Umbrellas from Europe are brought into India in shoals. When an
agitation arose in Bengal to boycott foreign goods the umbrella
question became a complex one, because their manufacture is
practically unknown in the country. The difficulty was solved by
importing the component parts to be put together in India, and then
they could be labelled "country-made."
Although now anybody who can afford it may carry an umbrella whenever
and wherever he pleases, a certain idea of dignity still lingers in
connection with it, and the bearer of this ancient symbol of
importance often does so with a slight swagger, and all the more so if
he is dressed in rags, or scarcely dressed at all.
The agitation in Bengal referred to above was an epidemic of political
excitement amongst educated classes, and more particularly young
students, which spread wider than usual, and threatened to become
serious. It had therefore to be dealt with firmly. The epidemic
spread to Poona City (and indeed it was freely said that the chief
wire-pullers in the movement lived there). As a result of this unrest
there was a marked cooling-off in cordiality amongst the visitors to
Yerandawana when plague broke out again in the city, and the annual
exodus took place. The deportation to a distance of one of the leaders
on the side of discontent in the city, for a period of some years, was
the chief ground of local resentment. Boy friends of previous years
held aloof; elder brothers, of the student class, were inclined to be
cheeky; and their parents, as far as they could, kept out of the way.
In former years crowds of lads came from the Plague Refuge Camp to ask
for old Christmas cards. Many of them were boys from schools of good
standing where drawing is carefully taught. In order to choke off the
mere idlers, we told a boy when we gave him a picture that if he
wanted another one he must make a copy of the picture given, and bring
back both the original and the copy the next day. The plan answers
admirably, and it has become our regular custom. It gets rid of the
loafers who do not want the trouble of drawing pictures, it gives the
boys an occupation in their long idle days, it quickens their interest
in drawing, and in a few instances has brought to light some genuine
talent. Boys grow ambitious, and get chalks and colours, and produce
results of artistic promise. It also brings the best type of lad
almost daily to the Mission bungalow for a definite object, and
affords many opportunities for useful talks on subjects religious and
secular.
But when the season recommenced after that period of political unrest,
there were few applicants for pictorial cards. A sprinkling of old
friends of previous years began to bring their drawings, but they did
this in the face of a sarcastic opposition which few had sufficient
backbone to withstand for long. But fortunately we had at that time
many exceptionally attractive pictures, which people had sent us from
England. The few gallant boys who braved the opposition got rewards
which soon awakened longings throughout the camp to be possessors of
the like. One by one, at first shyly, and then with growing confidence
as deserters from the opposition grew more numerous, the old friends
returned, to be followed by many new ones. The younger generation
being won over, their elders began to thaw and to exchange kindly
greetings, and now and then we were invited to see their hut or tent,
or to sit down outside for a few minutes' talk.
It is something to be grateful for when an attitude of distrust has
changed into one of friendliness. But from a religious point of view
this might not have been of much use, if it had not been for the new
agent which had come into the life of the village--and that agent was
the village church. The effect of the building upon the Hindu mind has
been already told. But in addition, many Hindus got some idea of the
nature of Christian worship by a spasmodic attendance at Evensong,
especially on week-days. The nineteen double doors, most of them
standing open in the hot weather when wind and dust are not too
aggressive, give an opportunity for taking stock of the situation
before coming inside. They are also available as roads of retreat,
supposing circumstances are suggestive of danger.
When, after a rather prolonged season on account of the plague
lingering longer than usual in the city, our visitors went back to
their homes and we were left in comparative peace, we felt that,
besides the dying down of the spirit of opposition, it had also been a
useful time of education concerning Christian manners and customs, if
nothing more. But without the two agencies of the pictures and the
church, I do not see that we could have attained either of these
results.
There are some indications that the efforts which are now being made
to introduce more rational methods of teaching are beginning to
influence favourably the young Indian mind. That a large number of
students under the old regime have been lamentable failures nobody
denies, and much of the discontent of recent years, leading in some
instances to serious political crime, has been the inevitable fruit of
the foreign secular education which we have brought. But there is a
distinctly new type of Indian schoolboy appearing, amongst the
thousands of lads who are getting their education in Poona City. Some
of them not unfrequently find their way to the village Mission-house
on half-holiday afternoons, and ask to see the church, or beg for a
picture post-card. They talk a little English, dropping back into the
vernacular with some relief when unable to say exactly what they want
in the foreign tongue. They rather incline to English dress; in some
cases even substituting knickerbockers, or trousers, for the Hindu
_dhota_. The picturesque and useful turban they unfortunately give up
altogether, and wear instead a small round cap. Many of them have
ceased to shave their head, and are rather proud of their hair, which
they wear foppishly long in front. They only nominally retain the
Hindu _shinde_, or little pigtail. That is to say, the hair at the
crown of the head is left slightly longer than the rest, but it is
hardly noticeable. Some of them have a watch chain, but there is not
always a watch at the end of it.
Their manners are generally polite and courteous, except that some of
them, while retaining their caps, have begun to look upon it as a mark
of servility to slip off their shoes on entering a church or house. We
explain that whereas it has always been the Eastern custom to bare the
feet as a courteous recognition of place or persons, the Western
custom, on account of the cold climate, has been to bare the head.
Hence in India, where East and West meet, it is optional to follow
whichever use the individual prefers; but to enter a church or house
without baring head or feet is not polite. The lads quickly respond to
the kindly explanation. Some slip off their shoes; one or two take off
their caps instead, especially when they go into the church.
This they do rather shyly for the first time, and they are obviously
nervous as to what going into a Christian church may involve. But
confidence is established after two or three visits. Some are quite
ignorant of Christ. Others just know Him by name, and that is all.
More than once I have been asked for a photograph of Christ, thinking
that He was somewhere accessible, or that He had lived on earth in
modern times. Now and then a few lads who have heard scraps of
Christianity ask questions eagerly, and are delighted to see pictures
concerning Our Lord's life. Three new-comers asked me to give them
some of these pictures. I said that if I did so they would perhaps
turn them into ridicule. "We would never do such a thing as that," was
their eager and earnest reply. And though we rarely venture to give
religious pictures to Hindus, this appeared to be one of those
occasions when it might be good to do so.
This type of boy goes in a good deal for cricket and football, and
when playing a match knows, for the most part, how to keep his temper
and to play in a sportsmanlike manner. One of their clubs they call
"The New English Club." Some attempt is made to give what is called
"moral instruction" in the Hindu schools that this hopeful type of boy
attends. The instruction is, of necessity, of the "honesty is the best
policy" kind. That is to say, if you cultivate politeness and
truthfulness, it will enable you to be a better _citizen_. Or, if you
try to do what is right, you will be _respected_ in the world. These
are not the loftiest ideals, but anything that tends to strengthen the
character and purify the life is to be welcomed. Nevertheless, the
attempt to build up a scheme of morals, without Christian grace to
give the spiritual power to resist the evil forces which will try to
frustrate the effort, can at best only bring about a superficial
improvement, liable at any time to collapse. However, these
indications of an improved type of schoolboy give hope for an improved
type of man, which may mean much for the future of India.
Some of the young Hindus of the city, who speak English rather
fluently, become amusingly conceited in consequence. One of these lads
visiting the Mission-house said to me, "Your English pronunciation is
not good." I sometimes purposely reply to these English-speaking
youths in Marathi, because they rather affect not to know it. This
same lad said that it was no good my talking to them in that language,
because that no one could understand my Marathi. When I suggested that
even his English was capable of improvement, he replied that that was
impossible, because his English was "perfect." When I was showing him
the church, he asked if he might go into the sanctuary, and when I
said that that was reserved for the ministers, he replied that that
was "superstition." Seeing some of the Mission boys, who are simply
but nicely dressed, he exclaimed, "Why do you clothe your boys in this
miserable way? you should give them fine and beautiful clothing."
Ascertaining that I was pledged not to marry, he asked, "Why do you
lead this miserable existence? There is no pleasure in life without
marriage." But when the Brahmin wife of the schoolmaster happened to
pass by, he was immensely astonished to hear that she was a Christian.
After one or two visits young men of this sort often drop most of
their conceit, and talk naturally and pleasantly.