Yes, that is a Bible. Oh, yes, I speak English. I've spoken it ever
since I was a young girl. Nearly every Parsi, you know, learns to
speak English as soon as possible. We admire English people in a
great many ways and try to emulate them in some things, although we
are proud enough to think that we are superior to them in some
others.
Yes, I'm a Parsi--that is--I'm a Parsi in race but not in religion.
This Bible shows you what I am in belief. Yes, I'm a Christian, but
not one of long standing, for I was baptized only one year ago.
You're an American, aren't you? I thought so, for in many ways you
are like my dear Miss Miller. Won't you have this pillow at your
back? Even second-class carriages are not any too comfortable. If
you will let me pull that leather bag out a little from under the
seat so that you can put your feet upon it, you will rest more
easily. A second-class carriage is a luxury for me nowadays, since I
became a Christian. I really can't afford to travel any other way
than third, but I've been a little ill the last few weeks and Miss
Miller insisted upon my coming second this time. You look so much
like Miss Miller that you must excuse me, if I have stared at you a
little impolitely since we left Grand Avenue Station.
[Illustration: "You are an American, aren't you?"]
Oh, an American is privileged to do that, you know, to watch us
closely, for he is here to see a new people and to find out all he
can about them. I don't mind that at all. We really expect it. We
have so many Americans in Bombay that I have got quite used to it
and don't notice it any more. At first I used to get embarrassed and
think that they were looking at me, but I soon found out that it was
only my clothes and my manners that they were interested in and that
they couldn't distinguish me from any other Parsi lady; we were only
a sort of curiosity to them. It wasn't exactly flattering to find it
out, but still it made one feel more comfortable on the streets.
Oh, I've got quite accustomed to it now, I assure you. But you do
resemble Miss Miller, if you don't mind my saying so; only she wears
her hair quite plain and always dresses in gray.
She is my teacher.
Here we are at A----. I'm just selfish enough to hope that no other
lady will want to get into this compartment. Since each of us has a
whole seat to herself we can be pretty comfortable.
There is an unusual crowd of third-class passengers to-day, though
there are always crowds here for that matter. I don't see where they
get the money for all the travelling they do. Since so many
pilgrimages are required in their religion the people seem to work
very hard for a long time and then spend every anna that they have
saved on a pilgrimage somewhere. But to-day is a special feast day
at N----. That is another reason why Miss Miller insisted upon my
coming second class this time, for the third was terribly crowded
when we came down this noon. She is so good! She left her work just
to come down and see me off, because I have been ill.
No, thank you. I don't care for a cup of tea now, for I shall reach
my destination in time for tea. Oh, yes, the tea at these stations
is quite safe. But I would not take the milk if I were you, for Miss
Miller never does.
Oh, yes. We stop here about ten minutes. You'll have plenty of time
to drink it and the man will come back with his tray and get your
cup before the train starts. It is two annas a cup. Don't you want a
piece of cake with it? Here, boy!
Yes, some of the stations have very good food.
The new passengers are nearly all located now and no one seems to
be going to get in with us. I am so glad! Now we can be nice and
comfortable.
Yes, they do keep the plants nicely watered and well taken care of
at these stations. If they were not so dreadfully noisy and confused
at train times, they would be pretty enough places to live in.
There goes the bell! Here comes your boy. I'll hand it to him.
Two annas. That's right. I suppose it is hard for you to get
accustomed to our money; I believe it is quite different from yours,
is it not?
Oh, is that some of your American money? How interesting! It is
worth about three-quarters of a rupee, you say? I am so glad to have
seen it. What do you call it?
A quarter! See, I'll use that word in speaking to Miss Miller some
time. Won't that surprise her! She will wonder where I have learned
it.
Now we are off and there isn't another station for half an hour at
least. Isn't that nice? Now we can rest. Wouldn't you rather lie
down?
That is very kind of you, for I do feel just like talking this
afternoon. This little trip is a holiday for me, you see, and has
quite excited me, almost as much as it would my little girl. But I
expect that she is excited, too, this afternoon, for she knows I am
coming to see her.
One little girl. I am a widow and have been so for several years.
She is in school down here at A----. And since I've been ill, Miss
Miller had me come down to see her for a rest.
Indeed, I'll be glad to tell you about myself, especially about my
becoming a Christian, if you would like to hear, for I love to tell
that story. You Christians in America are so good to send teachers
to us!
You are not a Christian! But I thought all Americans were
Christians!
Don't you believe in God?
You suppose there is a God but you've never thought much about it!
How strange! Don't you believe in Christ?
No? Why, how can that be possible when He has done so much for you
people in America and is doing so much for us here?
Do I believe in Christ? Why, of course I do. Do you think I would be
here, a penniless woman, going to see my daughter, kept in school by
charity, if I did not believe in Jesus Christ; if I did not know Him
personally and if I had not confessed my belief before my family and
friends?
I can't understand why you do not believe in Christ, unless--yes, it
must be so--you have been too busy to think about Him and you have
not really needed His help yet. You never have had any trouble and
felt all alone in the big world, without any one to help you, have
you? Until that time comes I suppose people are too busy having a
good time to think about religion. I have noticed that here in my
teaching among my own people, but I did not suppose it was so in
America, for I thought everybody believed there. Here I have seen
that when people are kept quiet for a time because of sickness or
sorrow, when they have time to think and when earthly friends cannot
help, then Christ most easily makes Himself known to them. I know
this is so for I have proved it myself. And I know Christ!
Yes, it does make me very happy!
Oh, I had forgotten this station. But we will stop here only a few
minutes and as it is a small station I don't think any one else will
get on. Here comes a gentleman to the window.
Thank you. An orange would taste good and refresh me. Although this
is our cold season, it does get pretty warm in the middle of the
day.
Your husband? You are taking a trip around the world for pleasure.
What interesting things you must have seen! Your husband is a
lecturer. Oh, I see, and he is taking pictures with his camera for
his lectures, I suppose. He is going to take that boy with his pan
of sweets. See?
There is the bell! He got the picture just in time.
Shall I go on with my story? But, please, don't let me tire you.
No, I'll save my orange a little while for I cannot eat when I have
a chance to talk on this subject. Do you know much about the Parsis?
Well, I'll tell you a little so that you can understand my
situation. We Parsis are Persians; but when the Mohammedans came
into our country and began to persecute us, gained political
control, and tried to make us accept their religion by force, many
of us fled to India, most of whom are now settled around Bombay.
The women all dress about as I do with a little cotton waist, you
see, and a one-coloured sari; delicate pinks and blues are favourite
colours, edged with fancy embroidered borders, often of pure gold or
silver. We wear stockings and slippers, the latter usually more
elaborately embroidered than mine. We wear, also, this peculiar
head-binder, a white cloth drawn tightly around the head, covering
the hair under the sari. Our men invariably dress as Europeans these
days, for that dress is so convenient, but they may be recognized by
an oddly shaped cap which Miss Miller says looks as if it were made
of what you in America call black oilcloth, I think it is. Of course
the sacred emblems of Parsiism are worn under the clothing and do
not show, the shirt and the kusti.
Our people have lived in India for many generations, but they have
kept themselves separate from the other peoples. There has been very
little intermarriage; we have kept our own religion; and we are
practically a distinct people. Of course in our religion and our
social customs we have been somewhat influenced by the Hindus and
Mohammedans among whom we have lived so long; but we differ from
them greatly. We believe in education and begin to teach our
children early in life. We believe in monogamy and a happy family
life. We are industrious, keen, and honest in business; and I am not
overstating facts when I tell you that we are the bankers and most
important business people in India. Of course we are not many in
number compared with the dense population of this great land, but we
are scattered throughout the whole of it, and hold, as a rule, the
places of greatest influence.
Let me throw your orange peel out of this window which is already
open. You've let your husband take your satchel into his compartment
and you haven't a towel? That's too bad! I have a perfectly clean
one in my bag; won't you please use it?
Oh, please don't mention it. I assure you it is a pleasure to me. I
suppose you are more accustomed to the first-class lavatories, but,
really, our second-class accommodations are comfortable; don't you
think so?
No, indeed. I don't mind interruptions in my story. I'll rearrange
my bag while you are gone, for I packed in a hurry and I don't just
know where my things are.
It is convenient to have a lavatory for every compartment. Isn't it
so in America? You don't have compartments at all! Why, how funny! I
can't imagine what your trains must be like. Miss Miller says that
she will take me to America with her some time. But I don't believe
I'd like to leave India even for a little while, interesting as
America must be.
Yes, I'll go on with my story. Well, I was the daughter of a wealthy
Parsi in Bombay and we had a beautiful home in a part of the city
which is now not quite so pleasant, for Bombay as it has grown
towards one million in population has changed very much. I had a
governess and even at ten I began the study of English in connection
with my regular lessons and music. When I was about thirteen, my
father, who was really a little more advanced than the average
Parsi, decided to have English only spoken in our household. Knowing
the value of the language in commercial relations he considered it a
very important part of an education.
But I must tell you about our, that is the Parsi, religion. We are
the followers of Zoroaster, you know, and we believe that God is
represented by fire. Therefore fire is sacred and in our temples a
fire is always kept burning, with an order of priesthood to care for
it. You can see how this belief might degenerate and become a
worship of fire itself, as I fear it has with many people. Even the
fires in our homes have to be cared for with ceremonies of various
kinds. We are taught that one should be faithful to his wife; that
every one should be charitable. But we do believe in demons and must
go through all sorts of rites to keep them away. You see I can't
give you more than the briefest account of our belief, for it is
more or less complicated as all beliefs are, but I wanted you to see
that in almost every way it is superior to the other religions of
India, but still lacking the vital elements of Christianity. One
strange thing about our teaching is that we are not told to try to
get converts; indeed, the Parsis do not want any new believers.
Isn't that strange? Really, I must confess that I think we are a
very self-satisfied people in every respect.
At first we did not believe in early marriages, but in that respect
we have been gradually influenced by the Hindus. So at fourteen I
was married to the son of a rich merchant. Of course my husband was
chosen for me, but he proved to be a fine young man and we were very
happy together. Part of the wedding ceremonies took place, as our
weddings usually do, in the large public wedding hall which probably
you saw in Bombay. Really, the customs have got to be so elaborate
that a poor Parsi can hardly marry off a child without being in debt
for the rest of his life. Fortunately our family, as I have said,
did not lack for money and everything was beautiful. It was, indeed,
a very happy and joyous occasion, a prophecy of our life together.
For we were very, very happy for eight years. My husband was an
unusual young man and gave promise of surpassing his father in
business sagacity and literary ability. Our little girl came after
two years of marriage and she was dearly beloved by him, although,
of course, he would have liked a son. We were happy, oh, so happy!
After he died it used to hurt me so to think about it that for two
years I never spoke of my married life to any one, but since I have
found Jesus, I love to think about it and speak of it.
But one day our joy was turned to sadness and our gladness to grief,
for my husband was smitten with enteric fever. You know how
prevalent that is here in India and how often fatal. He had been
overworking at his office and in the study. Our family was too
enlightened to believe that the illness was caused by demons, as
most of our people do, and he was not neglected as most of our sick
people are, but he had the best of English medical attention and the
most tender nursing from us. He was young and strong and we fought
hard, but after six weeks of deepest anxiety and all the devotion I
could lavish upon him, I saw him sink away and leave me.
They took me from him while they prepared him for our peculiar
funeral rites and while I myself had to go through certain
ceremonies of purification. You have been to the Towers of Silence
in Bombay? No? But you are going back next week. Well, when you
stand upon the terrace and look across to those great towers, black
around the tops with ugly vultures, think of me as on that day three
years ago I stood and watched.--Please excuse my tears, but I don't
usually tell this part of my story; it is too sacred; but I don't
think you could understand the rest without knowing these customs of
ours. You know that the elements, earth, air, fire, and water, are
sacred in the sight of the Parsis and cannot be defiled by the dead;
therefore we cannot bury our dead; we cannot burn them; nor can we
throw their corpses into the river to be carried away by its
current. So our ancestors devised the plan which we now use. Our
dead are exposed upon high towers and vultures are allowed to tear
away the flesh, leaving the bones to crumble. So we Parsis in Bombay
have, upon a hill overlooking the harbour, really the most beautiful
spot in the city, a park in which at the top of the hill are located
five white towers between twenty-five and fifty feet high. The park
is well cared for and contains a shrine where fire is always
burning. A high terrace looks out towards the towers, about five
hundred feet away, which are never approached except by the officers
of the dead.
Yes, visitors are admitted to the garden by permit before nine in
the morning. After that time the grounds are kept clear for funerals
and mourners who come to pray for the dead.
I need not tell you of the long, sorrowful approach to the gardens
on that day three years ago, or how, standing upon the terrace, I
saw that dear body borne to the tower to become the prey of the ugly
birds swarming about the gardens. I need not tell you either of my
loneliness in our home or of my return to my father's house with
only one desire in life, to bring up my child so that she should be
an honour to her father.
For a year my life was very bare and my heart very heavy. I had
plenty of money; I wanted for nothing; I was tenderly cared for by
my family, for, you know, the Parsis do not treat their widows after
the customs of the Hindus; but nothing seemed to make me even one
tiny bit happier. Then one day a white lady called at our home. She
was very pleasant and kind. She showed us a book of a new religion
which she wanted us to read and she offered to come and read it with
us every day; but my mother did not care to hear about any other
religion than our own. Then the lady showed us some beautiful
embroidery which we did not know how to do. When my mother expressed
a wish to learn the new work, the lady offered to teach her if she
might also read from the Bible at every lesson. I, too, liked to
keep my fingers busy and when my mother, who excelled at needlework,
could not resist the temptation and consented to let Miss Miller
come, for it was indeed she, I was glad.
Once a week she came and for an hour at a time taught us various
kinds of stitches and read and explained the Bible to us. My mother,
after a short time, became ill and could not attend the lessons, but
as I seemed to enjoy them and my mind was somewhat diverted by them
from my sorrow, she still continued to allow Miss Miller to come. So
I, who had become very much interested in the Bible, much more so
than in the sewing, used to let my embroidery lie untouched while
sometimes we would talk for a couple of hours of this Christ
religion. What a beautiful religion it seemed to me! What a
comforting religion! I would have something to live for and
something to work for if I were a Christian. I thought of my
husband's death with less bitterness, for this religion taught that
I would surely see him again if I did God's will. Finally one day,
one year ago, Christ spoke to my heart. I believed. I knew that
Christ not only had lived but that He still lives. I cried for joy,
but Miss Miller thought it was with grief and started to console me.
But when I looked up with a shining face, her face shone too.
"You have found Jesus!" she said.