A DAY IN THE BAZAAR
SO it was settled that Chola should go, too. A little later the "_ekka
ghurrie_" was ready in the courtyard, and they all stowed themselves
away in it somehow. The "_ekka ghurrie_" is a funny kind of carriage
made of bamboo poles hung between two high wheels, with a red canopy to
keep off the sun. It was drawn by a little pony, and the shafts were
fastened to a stout bamboo stick across his high pointed collar.
They found themselves rather a tight fit, for the "_ekka_" was small;
and the _coolie_, or servant, who was driving had to balance himself as
best he could on one of the shafts. Nobody minded this, however, and
away went the little pony along the dusty road, past gardens and many
low, rambling two-storied houses very much like their own.
Everything looked wonderfully bright and gay. Many of the houses were
painted a brilliant pink or yellow with bright green verandas; and the
people, too, were dressed so gaily in all kinds of colours, though some
of them wore pure white, which looked nice and cool in the blazing sun.
Soon they passed the great gate of the city and came into the busy
streets of the Bazaar.
In all Eastern cities there is a part called the Bazaar, where are all
the shops; and in a large city like Lucknow the Bazaar is made up of
many streets of nothing but shops.
All the fruit and vegetable shops are in a street to themselves; all the
workers in brass and other metals in another. You will find the silk
merchants in one street; and, in still another, all the shops that sell
cotton goods,--the pretty flowered kinds stamped with tinsel as well as
plain white, for every one in India wears light cotton or silk clothes.
When they came to the street where the silk merchants were, the
grandmother and Shriya and her mother got out; for it was here they were
going to buy Shriya's pretty silk dresses and long veils, and other
pretty things.
"I would rather go with thee, father," said Chola, so he and his father
turned into another street. Here were the shops where wonderful gold and
silver work was made and sold; and where precious stones were set into
all kinds of rich and curious jewelry. The shop of Chola's father was
one of the largest in the street, though we would think it very small.
It was more like a big cupboard in the side of the street than anything
else; and he could reach nearly everything in it without getting up from
his seat. The shop had no name or sign over it, nor were there any
windows, while no doors were needed because the entire front was open to
the street, so that customers could look in to see if there was anything
they wished to buy without coming inside.
Chola sat on his heels watching his father as he sat cross-legged on a
carpet spread on the floor, putting a beautiful blue turquoise into the
setting of a silver necklace. Near to his elbow was a low table on which
were piles of precious stones. He liked to come with his father to the
Bazaar and watch him make the gold and silver into beautiful things.
When Chola was older he would come every day to the Bazaar, and his
father would teach him to be a silversmith like himself. Every little
Hindu boy follows the same trade as his father.
The Hindus love jewelry of all kinds, and both men and women wear
quantities of it. In fact much of their wealth is often put into the
form of necklaces, rings, and bracelets, which the women wear all the
time. The Hindus think this is the safest way to keep their wealth. So
you see why the jewellers do such a big trade in India.
"Father, there's a customer," whispered Chola, but Harajar paid not the
slightest attention to a tall man in a long silk robe, with a big turban
on his head, who stopped to look in the shop. A Hindu merchant usually
thinks it beneath his dignity to ask any one to buy his wares.
Presently the tall man said: "Are you happy?"
"I am happy," answered Harajar.
This is the Hindu way of saying "How do you do?"
Harajar then offered the tall man a seat on the rug, and his own
_hookah_ to smoke, which is the polite thing to do. The would-be
customer puffed away at the great pipe for some minutes, meanwhile
saying never a word. Soon he began to pay compliments; and then he
looked at, and priced, nearly everything in the shop before he asked the
price of the gold-mounted dagger on which he had had his eye all the
time. Then came the bargaining.
Chola knew that this would take all the morning, so he slipped away to a
shop a little way down the street, where a big yellow and red awning
hung across the roadway.
Here were beautiful brass ornaments of all kinds, lamps, vases,
pitchers, and what not, and Chola peered among these for a sight of his
little friend Nao. Only Nao's father was in sight, and he sat dozing
over his _hookah_. Farther down the street, however, Chola spied Nao's
embroidered cap bobbing about between two big camels laden with great
bales of cloth.
Nao as quickly caught sight of his friend Chola, and came running up at
once. "Oh, Chola," he cried, as he greeted his little friend by touching
his forehead and the palm of his right hand, "let us go to where the
caravans gather about the city gate; the man with the camels has just
told me that all the camels stopped there to rest on entering the city."
"Nay," said Chola, "there are wild, rough doings among the strange men
who come down from the hills with the camels. I have heard my father say
so."
"Oh, go play with thy sister, then, I will go alone," said Nao, who made
out as if he would turn away.
"I am not afraid, I, too, will go and talk with the camel men," Chola
answered with spirit. No little Hindu boy likes to be told to stay at
home with the girls, because in his country it is a sad fact that little
girls are not thought as much of as boys, nor do they have so good a
time.
The two boys slipped away through the crowded street, dodging between
lumbering wagons drawn by oxen, called buffaloes, and pushing their way
through a crowd of folk dressed in a great variety of costumes, all in
gay colours and with queer gaudy turbans on their heads. The turban
forms a very important part of the dress of the Hindu, and Chola could
tell by the colour and shape of each man's turban to just what _caste_
each man belonged and what business he was in. There are many of these
_castes_, or classes, of Hindu people, and each _caste_ keeps strictly
to itself. A person of one _caste_ must not marry outside his _caste_;
or touch persons of another _caste_, even; or eat with them, or have any
friendly dealings with them. Not only that, but you would think it very
tiresome, would you not, to have to remember not to sit next to that
person or touch this one? And that you must find out who cooked your
food before you might eat it? But this is what our little Hindu cousins
have to think of all the time.
Many of the men carried umbrellas of bright colours. Once only very high
and mighty people in Hindustan carried umbrellas, or rather had them
carried over them by a servant, but now nearly every one carries
one;--and they are needed in a country where the sun shines hotly all
the year round. For this same reason the streets are nearly covered in
by great spreading awnings drawn from one side to the other and forming
a sort of roof.
Just for fun the two boys got in the way of the "_bhisti_" or
water-carrier, so that the stream of water from the goatskin bag, with
which he was watering the dusty street, might play on their bare feet;
but when he turned it toward their heads, they ran away laughing.
"See! there must be a juggler over there," said Chola, pointing to a
circle of people around an old man with a gray beard.
The two boys pushed into the circle until they were near enough to see
what wonderful things the man was doing. He had just put a few seeds
into the dust under a small mat. "Behold," he cried, "there will grow up
a beautiful flower," and, sure enough, as he lifted up the mat, there
appeared a pot, and from the pot there began to grow up a stem and green
leaves, until finally it became a tall plant from which unfolded a great
red flower. All at once, as the juggler held the plant up for every one
to see, the flower changed into a cage containing two white doves, and,
when the door of the cage was opened, the doves came out and began to
circle about the juggler's head. At this there was a murmur of wonder
and surprise from the crowd. The doves entered the cage again; but, as
the people looked, the cage and doves and the red flower and the plant
with the green leaves all vanished; and the juggler stood on his little
grass mat with absolutely empty hands. Nothing could have been hidden
about him, for he had on no clothes except a cloth wrapped around his
waist.
"Is it not wonderful?" whispered Nao. "There be people who say it is
magic; and that there are no such things in sight as the flower and the
doves, and that it is all the power of the eye of the old man that makes
other people see things as he wants them to see them."
"Nay, it is real magic, and the flower did grow up before us," said
Chola. It would be hard for any one to believe otherwise; for it is true
that the jugglers of India do the most wonderful tricks, far more
wonderful than those we see in our own country, and no stranger can
really tell how they are done.
"How will you find your camel-man?" asked Chola, when finally the boys
came to the great square where the caravans camped. Everywhere were
camels and horses and men in strange costumes.
"He said he would be near the great gate," said Nao, as he and Chola
crept in and around the big camels and under them, constantly being
scolded by the men for getting in their way. Finally Nao spied his
friend sitting lazily smoking in the shade of the gateway, while he
watched his camels being unloaded.
"Welcome, oh, little friends," said the big, bluff fellow. "I suppose it
is no use to ask thee to share my dinner?" he continued, pointing to the
big dish of boiled rice, cabbage, and goat's meat which one of his
stable boys had just brought him.
The food smelt very good, but Chola and Nao shook their heads. They knew
by the blue turban and dress of their new friend that he was a
Mohammedan, and they would rather have starved than eaten food with him;
but they were quite willing to squat beside him in the dust in true
Hindu boy fashion, and listen to his strange tales of the far-away
countries which he had visited, as he ate his meal out of the big bowl.
They heard how he had come from the great plains of China, across the
snow-covered mountains of the north--the great Himalayas, the highest
mountains in the world;--and how his camels had waded through
snow-drifts up to their necks. He told them marvellous tales of the
great cities of Delhi and Lahore, with their marble palaces and
beautiful gardens; and of the great rice-fields of Burma. Sometimes he
had crossed the great desert going toward the west, and had seen the
splendid city of Bombay, and from there had gone on down the coast where
the tall palm-trees grow. He and his caravan had crossed India many
times, carrying merchandise from one part of the country to another. The
camel-man talked on until he had finished eating and was ready for a
nap.
"It must be fine fun to ride a camel," said Nao, as he and Chola made
their way back to the Bazaar.
"I think it is much nicer to ride a big elephant, as my Uncle Achmed
does when he goes about his lumber yards," answered Chola. "But, Nao,
the smell of thy friend's dinner has made me hungry. Let us buy some
sweetmeats," he continued, darting across the street to a little booth
where there were bowls and baskets filled with all kinds of sweet,
sticky things to eat that not only Hindu children like, but all the
grown-ups as well. When a Hindu wants a real treat, he eats as many
sweetmeats as he can.
Just as the boys got to the booth, a big bull buffalo came snorting
along. He evidently wanted sweets, too, for he stuck his head under the
awning of the little shop and took a big mouthful of preserved fruit
from one of the baskets, at the same time upsetting the contents of
another basket over the owner of the little shop, who was dozing among
his wares.
[Illustration: BUYING SWEETS IN THE BAZAAR.]
"Oh, the thief!" cried the man, jumping up angrily, though he dared not
do anything to the animal; for it was one of the sacred bulls from a
near-by temple. They were allowed to wander through the streets, though
they often robbed the shops in this mean fashion.
"'Tis no laughing matter," said the man, turning to the boys, who could
not help laughing at his discomfiture.
"Do not be cross," replied Chola, as he and Nao helped to pick up the
scattered sweets. "We are a different kind of customer from the buffalo.
How many '_cowries_' do you want for this almond paste? Not too many,
mind you," he continued, with an eye for a bargain, "for we helped you
save the others."
"And eaten some, too, I warrant," grumbled the man, still in a bad
humour, as he wrapped up the sweets in a large green leaf and gave it to
Chola, who paid him with some tiny shells, threaded on a string, which
he took from the wallet he carried in his dress. These _cowrie_ shells
are used for small pieces of money and are carried on strings. As you
may imagine, each shell is not of a great value.
"Let us eat our sweets here," said Chola, squatting in the shadow of a
wall; and, with his finger, drawing a circle round them in the dust.
This was intended as a sort of a boundary-line to keep any _low-caste_
person from coming too near them while they were eating. The boys
greatly enjoyed their candies, which they thought all the better for
being made with _ghu_, a sort of rancid butter.
Just as they were finishing the last bit, some one came up and touched
Nao on the shoulder.
"Who comes here to make my food unclean," he cried, jumping up angrily.
"Hush! It is a little Sahib. Doubtless he knows no better," said Chola,
as he looked around and saw an English boy standing by.
"I think those things look better than they taste," the boy said,
smiling, as he pointed to the sweets; "but I meant no harm. I only
wanted to ask if you could tell me where Colonel Scott lives. I think I
have lost my way."
"Ah, every one knows the Colonel Sahib; but the house is far from here;
in the street with the great trees near the Chutter Munzil," said Chola.
"Where the roofs look like big gold umbrellas, I know," said the English
boy. "My name is Harry, and Colonel Scott is my father. My mother and I
have just come from England; but my papa has been here a long time.
While he was buying something in one of the shops, I followed a man who
had a lot of performing birds; and the first thing I knew I had lost my
way." Harry rattled away, glad to find some one to talk to.
Chola could understand him fairly well, for he had been taught a little
English at his school.
"Yonder stands a '_rickshaw_.' It will take you quickly to your home,"
said Chola, proud to be able to talk to a little Sahib.
The little Hindu boys hailed the "_rickshaw_," and, nearly bursting with
importance, bargained with the man who pulled it to take the little
Sahib home.
"Perhaps I shall see you again, for I am going to live here now," said
Harry, as he thanked the boys and climbed into the "_rickshaw_," which
looked like a big perambulator. Away the man went with it at a lively
trot, with Harry waving his cap in the air as a good-bye to his
new-found friends.
Chola could talk of nothing but the "little Sahib" as they jogged home
in the "_ekka_" in the dusk of the evening.
There are many English people in India, because it is now a part of the
British Empire. So it is not surprising that Chola and Harry should meet
in this way and be able to talk to each other. Mahala was very much
disappointed because he had not been there, too, when he heard Chola
tell of his adventures as they ate their supper.