CHILDREN IN HINDU HOMES
Even in high caste homes, where the women are never allowed to leave
their own dingy part of the house, little girls, while they are still
very young, play freely with their brothers. They are never thought of
with pride as the boys are, and they must keep in the background when
a visitor comes, for a father does not like to take any notice of his
daughters when a stranger is there, though he will call his boys to
speak to his friends. Yet boys and girls together have a happy time.
They make mud pies and romp about, and tumble over each other all day
long.
Indian boys are very fond of flying kites. Their kites are square,
and many of them are different from those we see, in another way, for
Indian boys like to make their kites fight with each other, and in
order to make the fight keener they draw the strings through a mixture
of crushed pieces of glass and starch. After the string is dry, they
run off with their kites. If they cannot find a better place, they
climb on to the flat roofs of two houses near each other, and send off
the kites, and then the fight begins. There are the two kites high up
above the trees, a blue one and a green one. The green kite hits the
blue, but neither of them is hurt. Then they dodge about in the air for
a long time, for each boy is managing his kite well, and it seems as if
neither would win, when suddenly the boy of the blue kite gives a sharp
pull. His string has caught the string of the green kite and cut it,
and the green is dropping to the ground out over the rice field yonder!
There are many curious sights for children to watch in India. One
of these is the snake charmer, as he carries his strange pets in a
basket or wound round his body. It is not only for his own amusement
or for the pleasure of the little crowds that gather round him that
the charmer plays. A good Hindu will not kill a snake, nor any other
animal. But he is greatly afraid of serpents, so if he sees them near
his house, or in his garden, he may send for a charmer to come and play
his weird music till the snakes are fascinated, and wriggle to him,
and let him shut them up in his basket. When he has carried them away
he will take out their poison fangs, and keep them to add to his other
pets.
Here is another tamer who has only a sparrow. He carries it safely in
the folds of his robe, and when he wishes to show it to anyone he lays
it down on the ground. It does not fly away, but hops about till he
lays down a heap of beads, which have been hidden in another fold of
his garment. Then he holds up a thread in the air. All is ready now,
and the bird catches the dangling end, and climbs up the thread and
down again. Then the little sparrow lifts the beads one by one, and
threads them on to the string. It is all done in the cheeriest way, and
the bird seems as happy as the little children who watch him.
[Illustration: A SNAKE CHARMER]
If a boy lives near the jungle he may see the taming of a herd of
elephants. First of all he will help to build two great strong fences
in the forest. At one end the two fences are quite near each other, but
at the other end they are far apart, so that there is a mile or more of
jungle ground between them. At the narrow end of the fenced-in ground,
there is a large enclosed space, and just where the two fences open
into it there is a great scaffolding high up in the air. When all is
ready the fence round the enclosure is tested and tried to make sure
that it will not give way. Elephants roam the forest in herds, only now
and again a lone elephant is found, and he is generally a very fierce
one, whom tamers would not wish to capture. After all is ready at the
Kheddah,[3] the hunters watch for a fine herd of elephants. When the
message comes that there is a herd near, men go out into the forest.
They separate and go quietly till they have formed a ring round the
herd in every direction, except the one towards the wide opening to
the fences. Then when the ring is complete, the men begin to close in
towards the herd with shouts. The shouts come to the elephants from
every direction except one, and as they seem to hear so many foes they
do not know which to attack, and so they rush on wildly in the one
direction from which no noise comes. The men close in towards the
fences very carefully until the whole herd of elephants is within the
wide end of the fenced ground. Each moment the yelling of the beaters
seems nearer, and the herd rushes on wildly. Beyond the narrow end
of the fences, they see what seems like open ground, and they rush
for that. As the last one passes through the narrow space the great
scaffolding is allowed to drop, and the elephants are prisoners.
But that is only the beginning of the work, and by far the easiest
part. The taming has still to be done. After the herd is captive, tame
elephants with riders on their backs tackle the full grown elephants
of the herd one by one. Even a strong wild elephant is not a match for
two or three tame ones, and the trained ones know their work so well
that they soon get the wild creature they are surrounding close to a
tree. That is their bit of the work. Then the mahout,[4] who has been
on the back of one of the tame elephants, lets himself down to the
ground. The tame elephants still keep the wild one close to the tree,
and hem him in to keep him from attacking the man who is on the ground,
for he is in great danger. He has to slip ropes round the legs of the
wild elephant and fasten him to the tree. The first ropes are the most
dangerous ones, for when the great beast feels that he is caught, he
is desperate, and strikes out in every direction; but the drivers are
quick and clever, and soon their prisoner is tied so tightly to the
tree that he can do no harm to anyone. Then when he is firmly fixed
there, the mahouts try to make friends with him. They bring him fruit
and sugar-cane, and all the things he likes best to eat, and they stay
by him, talking to him and singing till he grows quite at home with
them. Sometimes they can loosen his cords within a fortnight, and lead
him off between two others.
There are many other strange sights and sounds in the jungle, and some
of them are greatly feared by Indian boys. Though there are many Hindus
who will not kill any animal because of their caste rules, there are
others who do, and some of them are very clever in catching and killing
tigers.
The tiger is a very cruel creature that will kill even when he is not
hungry, and if one begins to eat men as well as cattle the villagers
live in terror of him. He watches warily by the roadways for any stray
passer-by, and he will follow a bullock cart for miles in the hope
that some one of those who walk by it will fall behind, and give him
the chance of attacking him alone. And so men learn to fear the “pug”
marks of the tiger with a terrible fear, and to shudder at the thought
of his silent footsteps. When the villagers find that there is a tiger
making his lair near their village, and coming to it day after day to
steal their cattle or to carry off their children, they first find out
where he drinks. That is easily done, for the soft clay near the bank
of the river keeps the marks of his paws. Then when they are sure of
that, they get three strong nets and hang them from upright bamboos
across the path by which he must come to drink. The tiger comes quietly
along, and ere he knows he is entangled in one of the nets and has
pulled down the first pair of bamboo poles. The more he struggles the
more the meshes trouble him, and if he does manage to break through,
all trammelled as he is with the broken net, it is only to dash into
the next one. There he lies wild and helpless, and struggles till he
is worn out. In the evening, the villagers come with their spears and
attack the prisoner, but they do not like him to be too quiet. They
like him to growl at them, and to try to leap at them. It seems too
easy a victory if he is dull and stupid ere they reach him.
The jungle is full of interesting plants and animals, and we could fill
a large book with their names and habits, but we must only take time
to speak of one other creature. It will form a link for us between
jungle sights and sounds, and the splendour of the courts of the olden
rulers of which children may still see relics in some parts of India.
The animal that links the palace with the jungle is the cheetah, for
six cheetahs have been taken from their wild haunts to guard the Uzar
Bhagh Palace in Baroda. Through the day they are muzzled, and wander
freely in the gardens. They are like small leopards, and they steal
about amongst the trees or lie sleeping in the sun through the long hot
hours. But each evening they are shut up in the palace. Their muzzles
are taken off, and all night long the fierce creatures wander through
the passages and halls. For within the closed doors that they guard,
the jewels of Baroda, the richest in all India, lie. In the collar of
state alone, there are five hundred diamonds, and some of them are as
large as walnuts. Round the edge of this collar three bands of emeralds
run, and each emerald in the outer row is about an inch square, while
a great diamond, that is called the star of the Deccan, hangs down
in front. There are many other treasures there besides the wonderful
collar, and the most interesting of them are a rug and two pillow
covers. The rug is more than ten feet in length and six feet wide, and
it and the pillow covers are made of strings of pearls woven together
and decorated with diamonds. These jewelled cloths brought the present
ruler of Baroda to his throne in a strange way.
Baroda is a native state, whose princes are called Gaikwars. The word
Gaikwar means cowherd really, but for hundreds of years it has been
the royal title of the rulers of Baroda. These men trace their family
far back into the times of the ancient stories, for they believe that
they descended from a Hindu hero called Rama, who is now worshipped as
a god. This belief strengthened their power, because no one dared to
oppose anything that was done by the children of a god, and sometimes
they used their power very badly. The British Government tries not to
interfere with the Indian rulers, so it honoured this ancient house,
and whenever the Gaikwar came to state ceremonies he was received with
a salute of twenty-one guns. But though the Government acknowledged the
ruler of Baroda, it did not wish cruelty and wrong to go unpunished in
the lands it protected, so there was always a representative of the
Viceroy in each protected state. During the reign of Malar Rao, the
last Gaikwar, Colonel Phayre was the British Representative at Baroda,
and while he was there he heard terrible stories of the heartless
cruelty of the Indian ruler. He was sure that many of these stories
were true, but it was difficult to prove anything against a man who was
so powerful.
There was an arena at Baroda where elephants, tigers and lions had
fought in former days to amuse the court, and in front of this old
arena, Malar Rao built a palace. It was exquisitely finished and very
costly, and at the main entrance there were two guns of solid gold,
mounted on silver carriages. Not far from the city there was an ancient
idol, and at its shrine the Gaikwar built a splendid temple. Those who
know about these things say that though it is modern, its workmanship
is as wonderful as that of the famous old temples of the land. As
Colonel Phayre saw all this, and far, far more, his heart was hot
within him, for he knew that the Gaikwar was building all these things
with money that he had stolen from his people by taking bribes and by
cruel taxes. But the Englishman did not see that he could prevent it,
until he heard of the pearl and diamond rug. The jewellers of India
searched for three years in order to get the gems that were needed for
it and for the pillows, and when at last all were finished the Gaikwar
made arrangements to give them as a gift to one of his favourites. When
Colonel Phayre heard that the woven jewels, the cost of which had been
wrung from the people, were to be given away, he refused to allow it.
He said that the jewels belonged to the state of Baroda, and were not
Malar Rao’s to give.
Now the Gaikwar had set his heart on giving this present to his
favourite, and he was so enraged that nothing was too wild for him
to attempt. He asked to see Colonel Phayre, and with every show of
friendship he invited him to drink his health. The cup of pomola juice
was handed to the guest, but an instinctive feeling of suspicion warned
the Englishman, and he refused to drink. And it was well, for in the
cup there was the dust of diamonds. Once before the Gaikwar had served
his end by ground jewel dust. He had killed his brother so, and had
ruled in his stead. When he was brought to trial, this and many other
things were found out, for his brother was not the only man whom he had
killed unjustly.
When he was condemned, the widow of the brother whom he had poisoned
was asked to adopt a son, to be the ruler of Baroda, and the boy whom
she chose grew up to be a clever and an able man. He has changed the
whole life of the state, for he thinks of his people, and seeks to
give them many things to make life brighter and easier for them. And
as Baroda is called the “garden of India,” the children who live there
enjoy much of what is happiest in Hindu life. Famine scarcely ever
comes there, for the Nerbudda river waters the valley, and the rain
clouds that cross the ocean are never spent ere they reach it.
Many children in India now go to schools that are much like our own,
but in the far-off villages, the master still sits on the ground, under
a broad tree, with his scholars round him. The little boys sway their
bodies backwards and forwards as they sing out their lesson, or bend
over the sandy ground, to trace the outlines of the Sanskrit letters
there as they shout out the names of them after him.
So the days of childhood pass when all goes well, but if illness comes
there is terrible suffering. The best that can happen to a Hindu child
when he is ill, is to be left alone to get well or to die. If there is
something very serious wrong with him, his parents may think there is a
devil in the boy, and send for the barber, who does a great many things
in an Indian village besides cutting hair and shaving chins. One little
boy was getting better after a fever, but though the fever was gone his
eyes were still very sore indeed. The barber was sent for, and when he
came he did not bathe the sore red eyes, nor do anything to soothe the
pain. Instead of that he began to burn the top of the wee boy’s black
head, to pull the devil out by the burn! So the poor little fellow
had to bear the pain of the burn as well as the pain in his eyes, and
though the barber’s rough treatment was of no use, the father and
mother tried no other plan. They let the eyes grow sorer and sorer till
the boy was blind, and then they thought that Brahma must have written
with his golden pen that their little son would lose his sight. So they
did not trouble more about it, but began to think how they could make
him earn money. They knew he would never be able to work. So they took
him to a large town that he might beg, and make people pity him because
of his blindness. But the boy need not have been blind.
Another child called Yogina was very ill indeed. She lay in a fever,
and as the fever raged, she said strange wild things, for her mind was
wandering, and she did not know what she was saying. The other girls in
the house were in terror. They thought some demon had entered into her,
and they feared that it might leave her and go into one of them, so a
priest who said he could force demons to leave those who were ill was
asked to come and cure her.
This man had learned how to say “Am, Im, Um, Em, Aim, Om, Aum, Tam,
Tham, Dam, Nam, Pam, Pham, Bam, Mam, Jam, Ram, Lam, Vam, Sam, Ham,
Ksham,” over and over again, each of them in a special tone and way,
and that proved to everyone who heard him there that he was a very
marvellous man who could do miracles. His name was Mantra Shastri.
When he came to the house where little Yogina was lying in her fever,
he bade the other women of the house clean out the court, and make a
pattern on the wet floor with fine white powder. When this was done,
little Yogina was dragged into the court, and set down opposite the
white markings on the damp floor. Yogina could not sit up. She was too
weak, but Mantra Shastri would do nothing for her if she lay on the
ground. So the other women of the house gathered round her and held her
up. Then the devil-doctor began his work. He went out and walked round
the house several times, and sprinkled evil-smelling water as he went.
Yogina cried out louder, for the effort of sitting up made her fever
more burning, but all round the house the harsh sounds of tom-toms rose
and the child’s screams could not be heard. Then Mantra Shastri came
into the inner court again, and the women walked in a circle carrying
trays of fruit and flowers and leaves and rice. The tom-toms still beat
on, and their noise only made the sick girl wilder. She did not know
anything of what was going on around her, but she fought blindly with
those who tried to hold her up.
The priest took little heaps of rice from the trays the women carried,
and set them down in front of Yogina amongst the white marks on the
floor. One heap was of white rice, one of yellow, and one of black, and
when he had laid them there he spoke to the demon in the sick girl and
said:--
“Oh Spirit of Evil, where do you come from? What do you want?” The
women who were round Yogina were so eager to hear what she would say,
that they forgot to hold her up, and she fell forward on the rice.
Even when they raised her she had no answer for the priests’ question.
At last he seized a cane, and beat her to make her speak, and as the
blows fell on Yogina’s back she started up and ran twice round the
court. Then she fell. A shout rose from everyone there, for they
believed that the evil spirit had left her at last. But it was life
that had left her, and the little child, who might so easily have been
nursed back to health, had been killed.
That is one story of one little girl, but it is not unlike many, many
others that might be told, not only of girls, but of boys and men and
women, who die because there is no one who knows how to nurse them, or
to help them to get well. And many who do not die are ill all their
lives afterwards, because of the way in which they have been treated.