An earthquake--Curious notions of the natives--A Shoka tailor and
his ways--The arrival of silver cash--Two rocks in the
Kali--Arrogance of a Tibetan spy.
ON hearing that Dr. Wilson was now in Garbyang I went to call upon him.
Squatted on soft Chinese and Tibetan mats and rugs, we were enjoying cup
after cup of tea and devouring _chapatis_, when suddenly the whole
building began to shake and rumble in the queerest manner, upsetting
teapot and milk and sending the _chapatis_ roaming to and fro all over
the room.
Leaving Dr. Wilson to save our precious beverage, I pulled out watch and
compass to notice duration and direction of the shock. It was undulatory,
very violent, and oscillating from S.S.W. to N.N.E. The duration was
exactly four minutes two seconds. The earthquake began at 5.20 P.M. and
ended at 5h. 24m. 2s.
"It strikes me that it would have been wise to have gone out of the
house," said I. "It is a wonder the building did not collapse. My cup is
full of mud and débris from the ceiling."[10]
"I have saved the tea for you!" said the Doctor, triumphantly lifting in
his muscular hands the teapot, which he had carefully nursed. He had soon
discovered my devotion to the yellow liquid.
We were quietly going on with our refreshment when a band of excited
Shokas broke into the room.
"Sahib! Sahib! where has it gone?" cried they in a chorus, stretching
their hands towards me and then folding them in sign of prayer. "Sahib!
tell us where it has gone!"
"What?" rejoined I, amused at their suspense.
"Did you not feel the earth shake and quiver?" exclaimed the astounded
visitors.
"Oh yes, but that is nothing."
"Oh no, Sahib! That is the precursory notice of some great calamity. The
'spirit' under the earth is waking up and is shaking its back."
"I would rather it shook its back than mine," said I jokingly.
[Illustration: A WELL-ATTENDED SCHOOL]
"Or mine," added the Doctor lightly, much to the astonishment of our
awestricken callers.
"Which way did it go?" repeated the impatient Shokas.
I pointed towards the N.N.E. and they gave a sigh of satisfaction. It
must have proceeded to the other side of the Himahlyas.
It appears, according to the primitive notions of the Shokas, that inside
the earth lives in a torpid condition an evil spirit in the shape of a
gigantic reptile. The rumbling preceding an earthquake is, to the Shoka
mind, nothing else than the heavy breathing of the monster previous to
waking, whereas the actual shock is caused by the brute stretching its
limbs. When fully awake the serpent-like demon darts and forces its way
in one direction, compelling the earth to quake all along its
subterranean passage, often causing by so violent a procedure great
damage to property and loss of life, not to speak of the fear and terror
which it strikes in man and beast, should the capricious spirit by chance
make a return journey to the spot below the earth's crust directly
underfoot. It is curious and interesting, in analysing these crude
notions, to find that, independently of the cause attributed to its
origin, the Shokas are aware of the fact that an earthquake "travels" in
a certain direction. Moreover, common symptoms of the approach of a
violent earthquake, such as depression and heaviness in the atmosphere,
which they attribute to a feverish state of the giant reptile, are
readily recognised by them.
[Illustration: MY BANKER AND AGENT]
On my return to civilisation some months later I discovered that on the
same day a violent shock was felt all over India, causing considerable
damage, especially in Calcutta.
I had on first arriving in Garbyang ordered a tent, and the tailor who
was entrusted with its manufacture had, after several days' intoxication,
completed it. It was on the Tibetan pattern, with picturesque ornaments
in blue. He had also been making me some Nepalese clothes, and these
really turned out quite a success, no small wonder considering the way he
went to work. I had given him cloth and lining, which he took away with
him, but he never troubled to take my measure! He simply assured me that
the suit would be ready on the following day. This was of course not the
case, and on the next afternoon and for six consecutive days he placed
himself in a state of hopeless intoxication under my window, singing, and
making comical salaams each time I, after the custom of the country,
threw something at him to induce him to go away. On the seventh day I
caught him and shook him by the ears, explaining that if the clothes were
not ready before nightfall, I would, in default of other tailors, sew
them myself.
"I have a drop too much in me," confessed the amusing rascal. "I will go
to sleep now. When I wake in the afternoon I shall be sober and will
finish my work. Do not be angry, Sahib. If only you drank yourself,
Sahib, you would know how lovely it is to be drunk." His philosophy did
not agree with mine. But I felt sure that I had so far impressed him,
that he knew he must risk some personal violence if he delayed much
longer. Sure enough, late in the evening he came with his work.
"How they will fit I do not dare to guess," I remarked to Dr. Wilson,
"considering the condition the man has been in while making them, and
taking into account that he never measured me nor tried them on. After
all, Nepalese clothes should be tight-fitting all over."
[Illustration: THE VALLEY OF GARBYANG]
Wonderful as it may seem, the clothes fitted like a glove. Clearly, that
man was a genius. Anyhow he was intemperate enough to have been one.
* * * * *
One day I had gone for a walk along the deserted road from the village. I
was about a mile and a half from the inhabited part, when three men, who
had been fast approaching, stood with blunt swords in front of me. They
waved their blades clumsily and shouted at the top of their voices in an
excited manner: "_Rupiya! Rupiya!_" ("Rupees! Rupees!") Without thinking
of the money that I had sent for and expected to receive, I took their
attitude as a threatening demand for the cash I might have on me. They
were really grotesque in their gesticulations, and I brusquely pushed by
them and continued my constitutional. When they saw me depart, they
scurried away hastily towards Garbyang, and I gave the occurrence no
further thought. On my return to the village, however, some hours later,
a crowd of Shokas came up to me announcing that my money had arrived, and
that the scared messengers, not daring to come near me a second time, had
gone to Dr. Wilson's house. There I found a _peon_ and two _chaprassis_,
the three men I had met on the road. They had brought a sum of eighteen
hundred rupees in silver, nearly all in two-anna and four-anna pieces
(sixteen annas to a rupee), which I had sent for from my banker, Anti Ram
Sah, at Almora, and which it had taken three men to carry, owing to its
weight.
After an easy explanation with these three very peaceful highwaymen, the
silver was conveyed to my room, and the greater part of the night had to
be spent in counting the diminutive coins and packing them up in rolls of
ten rupees each.
* * * * *
Just below Garbyang in the Kali River were, among a mass of others, two
large rocks in the centre of the stream. These two rocks were constantly
watched by the Shokas. The Kali, though named after a small spring below
its real source, is, like most of its tributaries, mainly fed by melting
snows. The greater quantity of water descends from the Jolinkan, the
Lumpiya, the Mangshan, the Lippu, and the Tinker passes. The first four
are in Kumaon, the last in Nepal. It stands to reason that the warmer the
weather the greater is the quantity of snow melting on the passes, and
therefore the higher the level of the river. When the two rocks are
altogether under water all the passes are known to be open.[11]
During the time I was in Garbyang I never had the luck to see this, but
the level of the river was daily rising, and the time of tiresome
expectation was certainly relieved by many amusing, and a few awkward
incidents.
Having once been informed of my plans, the Jong Pen of Taklakot in Tibet
was kept fully acquainted with my movements. His spies went daily
backwards and forwards with details about me. This my friends confided
to me regularly. One of these emissaries, a stalwart Tibetan, more daring
than the rest, actually had the impudence to enter my room, and to
address me in a boisterous tone of voice. At first I treated him kindly,
but he became more and more arrogant, and informed me, before several
frightened Shokas to whom he was showing off, that the British soil I was
standing on was Tibetan property. The British, he said, were usurpers and
only there on sufferance. He declared that the English were cowards and
afraid of the Tibetans, even if they oppressed the Shokas.
This remark was too much for me, and it might anyhow have been unwise to
allow it to pass unchallenged. Throwing myself on him, I grabbed him by
his pigtail and landed in his face a number of blows straight from the
shoulder. When I let him go, he threw himself down crying, and implored
my pardon. Once and for all to disillusion the Tibetan on one or two
points, I made him lick my shoes clean with his tongue, in the presence
of the assembled Shokas. This done, he tried to scamper away, but I
caught him once more by his pigtail, and kicked him down the front steps
which he had dared to come up unasked.
Chanden Sing happened to be basking in the sun at the foot, and seeing
the hated foreigner make so contemptible an exit, leapt on him like a
cat. He had heard me say, "Ye admi bura crab!" ("That man is very bad.")
That was enough for him, and before the Tibetan had regained his feet, my
bearer covered his angular features with a perfect shower of blows. In
the excitement of the moment, Chanden Sing, thinking himself quite the
hero, began even to shy huge stones at his terror-stricken victim, and at
last, getting hold of his pigtail, to drag him round the yard--until I
interfered and stopped the sport.
[Illustration: CHANDEN SING AND THE DAKU ROLLING UP MY BEDDING]
[10] The ceilings of Shoka houses are plastered with mud.
[11] N.B. The Lippu Pass, the lowest of all, may be crossed, with
difficulty, nearly all the year round.