THE BRAHMAN
I really knew not what to do, and my reflections grew more and more
gloomy, when I noticed that I had by degrees wandered out from the
forest, which now lay behind me.
A rich plain on which were fields and meadows and villages was before
me, stretching out as far as the eye could see. A white road traversed
this plain at some distance.
It was now twilight; the fields were deserted, and not a peasant was
to be seen anywhere on the far-off road. I determined to reach this
highway, however, for it certainly would lead me somewhere--probably
to some city where I might be received. Cast out and rejected by my
fellow-elephants, my only hope now rested on the kindness of men....
As I was passing through a field of vegetables I could not resist the
temptation of stealing a few, and in this way appeasing to some extent
my hunger.
Night had fallen when I gained the road. I set out to follow it,
snatching a fruit now and then from the trees that bordered it.
I had gone but a short distance when my eye fell upon a dark object
lying at the foot of the embankment. I went near, and looking closely,
I saw that it was a man.... Was he dead?--or only asleep?... I sniffed
at him, and felt the warmth of his breath--he was alive! I examined
him still more closely; his clothing was ragged and stained with dust
and mud. His appearance was that of a labourer, and yet, around his
waist I noticed the "_cord_" which marked him as a Brahman. A Brahman
in such rags might be one of those who sometimes adopt the life of a
Beggar, in obedience to the precepts of their religion. His breath,
however, recalled the odour of certain strong liquors, imported by the
Europeans, some of which I had seen in bottles, and had smelt with
disgust; This showed that he was not leading the life of abstinence
suitable for a Mendicant Brahman. He was, no doubt, one of those
unfortunate Brahmans fallen into poverty and disgrace--"_Apad_," as
it is called in the Indian language. The holy law permits these to
labour at any kind of work, such as in ordinary circumstances would be
entirely forbidden to their "caste."
After looking at him for a long time I was able to make out his
features. He had not a cruel face. No doubt he would receive me gladly,
and perhaps welcome me as a gift from the Gods!... I had been so long
unused to being alone that I could not endure it.... A companionship
here offered itself.... What would it be like?... I had no means of
guessing; but even were the Brahman to prove the cruellest of masters,
I felt that I would rather submit to be maltreated by him than to live
alone.
I gave him a little blow with my trunk, to waken him. He opened his
eyes, and stammered:
"Eh!... What's that?"
The night air, which had grown cold, now fully aroused him, and he saw
me.
"What is this? Whose elephant is this? Can it be he who has waked me
up, poking me with his trunk?--does he mean to hurt me, I wonder?"
He got up, painfully and with difficulty. I gave a few little
supplicating whimpers, to show that, on the contrary, I was asking for
his sympathy. Pretty soon he ceased to fear me.
"Well!" said he, "I do not know where you come from, but--bah!--that is
none of my business! We should treat animals as kindly as human beings.
It looks as if you wanted to make friends with me!" I bent my head in
sign of assent, as I had seen men do.
"You seem very intelligent! I am only a poor unfortunate Brahman, in
'Apad,' obliged to accept the hardest, sort of work in order to live,
and to labour at tasks that are far beneath my rank. No doubt I am
expiating sins committed in some former existence. But, follow me,
if you choose! You shall share my poor living: and, perhaps, you may
even prove useful to me; for one who owns an elephant can obtain more
lucrative employment than he who has only his strong arms and good-will
to offer."
To show him that I accepted his proposal to live with him for the
future, I bent my forefoot, inviting him to mount on my back. He
understood, and climbed up, and when he had settled himself to the best
of his ability, he said:
"Go ahead! Follow the road before you! Perhaps the Gods have sent you
to me for my advantage! Choose your own way. I have neither house nor
friends; anybody may receive us who will."
I was no longer alone; and in my forlorn condition this was a bit
of good luck. I walked along the road, feeling less despondent, and
carrying my new master.
This new master was called Moukounj. Many a time when we tramped long
distances without finding any one who would give work to either or
both of us, I would hear him talking to himself, and recounting his
misfortunes, and I ended by knowing them by heart. His tale was simple
enough. He belonged to a rich family of Brahmans, and had spent his
youth at Lahore, where he had received instruction in all that it
behoved a Brahman to know, at the hands of excellent masters. Later on
the Rajah of the Mahrattas took him into his service as "_pourohita_";
the "pourohita" is a priest whom the princes employ to offer sacrifices
to the Gods in their name. I have heard the English say that rich
Europeans employ priests of their own religion to perform similar
duties, and that they are called "_chaplains_."
Moukounj was highly thought of by the Rajah of the Mahrattas, who
treated him in the most friendly manner; and he might have risen to
eminence and great honour, had it not been for a terrible fault. He
could not resist the temptation of drinking strong liquors and was
continually getting drunk. When intoxicated, he had several times been
guilty of grave infractions of the Court etiquette, and in spite of the
regard felt for him by the Rajah, he was dismissed.
This disgrace did not cure Moukounj of his weakness; on the contrary,
he fell into the way of drinking more and more. At last, avoided
by everyone, turned out of every household, despised by the other
Brahmans, he finally sank to beggary, and tramped about the country,
thankful to take any sort of work that offered. He had been a Cook; he
had been a Stone-mason--but everywhere his fault prevented him from
remaining any length of time.
At present he was engaged most of the time in helping the Navvies and
the Stevedores, and he lived on very meagre wages, the greater portion
of which he spent for that yellow liquor which the Europeans call
"_Eau-de-Vie_" ("_Water-of-Life_")--why I do not know, for it seems to
me that, far from giving them _life_, it slowly kills them!...
Thanks to me, Moukounj was now a little better off; he hired me out to
carry heavy burthens, and himself to carry light ones; and the coarse
vegetables he bought to feed me cost but very little.
Our life was very monotonous. If we found ourselves in a city where
Moukounj could not find work--we left, and wandered on till we found
something to do.
Moukounj was, on the whole, not a bad fellow--always ready to be
useful where he could--the way he had received me was proof of this!
He was jolly and good-natured, and loved to remember and recite the
fine speeches he had learned at Lahore. But when drunk his disposition
changed; he grew irritable; he became ugly and violently angry; he
quarrelled with his fellow-workmen, and went so far as to beat me.
I certainly was not happy. When the work I was employed in seemed
too humiliating, and when Moukounj lashed me with blows--I suffered
bitterly. But why rebel? Things might be worse--so I submitted.
I thought constantly of my old life, wondering what had become of the
lovely Parvati; did the Prince love her?... Was she happy?... Did she
ever remember me?...
I tried to frame replies to these questions that would be as comforting
as possible, and these thoughts softened somewhat my sorrows.
I never could tell you the names of all the cities we saw, all the
rivers I crossed, the mountains I climbed with Moukounj. I remember
one French city where I helped to build a palace for the Governor; I
also carried the rails for a tramway they were building just outside
of Madras. I did much other work of about the same kind, and I passed
several years in this wandering and monotonous existence.
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