observed, are generally more indolently inclined, and whose style of
living is consequently more luxurious, the food offered to the guests
consists chiefly of different kinds of sweetmeats, fruits, _loochees_,
vegetable curries, &c. Four or five days before the Poojah begins,
professional Brahmin sweetmeat-makers are employed to make the
necessary arrangements at home, the principal ingredients required
being flour, _soojee_, _chattoo_, (gram fried and powdered) _safeyda_
(pounded rice) sugar, spices, almonds, raisins, &c. Not a soul is
permitted, not even the master of the house, to touch and much less
taste these articles[68] before they are religiously offered to the
goddess in the first instance and afterwards to the Brahmins. In these
"feast days" of the Poojah in and about Calcutta, where nearly five
hundred _pratimas_ or images are set up, every respectable Hindoo, as
has been observed before, is previously provided at home with an
adequate supply of all the necessaries and luxuries of life that would
last about a month or so, it being considered unpropitious then to be
wanting in any store, save fruit and fish. This accounts for a general
disinclination on the part of the well-to-do Baboos to partake of any
ordinary entertainment when visiting the goddess at a friend's house,
but to the Brahmins and the poverty-stricken classes this is a glorious
opportunity for "gorging." The despicable practice to which I have
alluded elsewhere of carrying a portion of the _jalpan_ (food) home is
largely resorted to on this occasion. It is certainly a relic of
barbarism, which the growing good sense of the people ought to eschew.
The night of the ninth day of the increase of the moon is a grand night
in Bengal. It is the _nabamee ratree_, and modesty is put to the blush
by the revelry of the hour. The houses of the rich become as bright as
the day, costly chandeliers, hanging lamps and wall lights burning with
gas, brilliantly illuminate the whole mansion, while the walls of the
_Boytuckhana_ or sitting room are profusely adorned with English and
French paintings and engravings, exhibiting certainly not the best
specimens of artistic skill, but singularly calculated to extort the
plaudits of the illiterate, because engravings and pictures are the
books of the unlearned, who are more easily impressed through the eye
than the ear. All the rooms and antechambers are frequently furnished in
European style. Splendid Brussels or Agra carpets are spread on the
floors of the rooms, a few of which, as if by way of contrast, have the
ordinary white cloth spread on them. Nor are hanging Punkhas wanting. In
one of the spacious halls sits the Baboo of the house, surrounded by
courtiers pandering to his vanity. Indolently reclining on a bolster,
and leisurely smoking his _albollah_ with a long winding _nal_ or pipe,
half dizzy from the effects of last night's revelry, he feels loath to
speak much. Like an opium eater, he falls into a siesta, whilst the
Punkah is moving incessantly. If an orthodox Hindoo, freed from the
besetting vice of drinking, and awake to all that is going on around
him, before him are placed the Dacca silver filagree worked _atterdan_
and _golappass_, as well as the _pandan_ with lots of spices and betel
in it. On entering the room, the olfactory nerves of a visitor are sure
to be regaled with fragrant odours. At intervals rose water is sprinkled
on the bodies of the guests, and weak spiced tobacco is served them
every fifteen minutes, the current topics of the day forming the subject
of conversation. All this is surely vain ostentation and superfluity. So
far the arrangements and reception of friends are essentially
_oriental_, the manner of sitting, the mode of conversation, and the way
in which otto of roses, rose water and betel are given to guests are
Mahomedan and Hindoo-like, but there is something beyond this; here
orthodoxy is virtually proscribed and heterodoxy practically proclaimed.
While the officiating priests and the female devotees are offering their
prayers to the presiding goddess, the Baboo, a liberal Hindoo, longs to
retire to his _private_ room, perhaps on the third storey, at the
entrance of which a guard is placed to keep off unwelcome visitors,
that he might partake of refreshments supplied by an English Purveying
Establishment with a few select friends. The room is furnished after
European fashion, chairs, tables, sofas, cheffoniers, cheval glass,
sideboard, pictures, glass and silver and plated ware, knives, forks and
spoons, and I know not what more, are all arranged in proper order, and
friends of congenial tastes have free access. First class wines and
viands, such as Giesler's champagne, Heatly's Port and Sherry, Exshaw's
Brandy No. I, Crabbie's Ginger wine, Bass's best bottled beer, soda
water, lemonade, ice, Huntley and Palmer's mixed biscuits, manilla
cigars, cakes and fruits in heaps, _poloway_, _kurma_, _kupta_,
_kallya_, roast fowl, cutlets, mutton chop and fowl curry,[69] are at
your service, and an English visitor is not an unwelcome guest.
_Loochee_, _Sundesh mittoye_, _burfi_, _rasagullah_, _sittavog_, &c.,
the ordinary food of the Hindoos on festive days, are at a discount. The
Great Eastern Hotel Company should be thankful for the large orders
which the Hindoo aristocracy of Calcutta and its suburbs favor them with
during this grand festival. The taste for the English style of living is
not a plant of recent growth. It has been germinating since the days of
John Company, when India merchantmen enjoyed the monopoly of the foreign
trade of the country, when the highest authorities of the land had no
religious scruples as Christians to be present at a Hindoo festival,
when, in fact, Hindoo millionaires were wont to indulge in lavish
expenditure[70] for the purpose of pleasing their new European masters.
Leaving aside the dignity and gravity of the clerical profession for a
while, the Reverend Mr. Ward was induced out of curiosity to pay a visit
to the palatial mansion of the Shoba Bazar Rajahs of Calcutta on the
last night of the Poojah.
"In the year 1806," says he, "I was present at the worship of this
goddess, as performed at the house of Rajah Rajkishnu at Calcutta. The
buildings where the festival was held were on four sides, leaving an
area in the middle. The room to the east contained wine, English
sweetmeats, &c., for the entertainment of English guests, with a native
Portuguese or two to wait on the visitors. In the opposite room was
placed the image, with vast heaps of all kinds of offerings before it.
In the two side rooms, were the native guests, and in the area groups of
Hindoo dancing women, finely dressed, singing, and dancing with sleepy
steps, surrounded with Europeans who were sitting on chairs and couches.
One or two groups of Mussulman-men singers entertained the company at
intervals with Hindoosthanee songs, and ludicrous tricks. Before two
o'clock the place was cleared of the dancing girls, and of all the
Europeans except ourselves, and almost all the lights were extinguished,
except in front of the goddess,--when the doors of the area were thrown
open, and a vast crowd of natives rushed in, almost treading one upon
another, among whom were the vocal singers, having on long caps like
sugar loaves. The area might be about fifty cubits long and thirty wide.
When the crowd had sat down, they were so wedged together as to present
the appearance of a solid pavement of heads, a small space only being
left immediately before the image for the motions of the singers, who
all stood up. Four sets of singers were present on this occasion, the
first consisting of Brahmins, (_Huru Thacoor_), the next of bankers,
(_Bhuvanundu_), the next of boeshnuvus, (_Nitaee_), and the last of
weavers, (_Lukshmee_), who entertained their guests with filthy songs
and danced in indecent attitudes before the goddess, holding up their
hands, turning round, putting forward their heads towards the image,
every now and then bending their bodies, and almost tearing their
throats with their vociferations. The whole scene produced on my mind
sensations of the greatest horror. The dress of the singers, their
indecent gestures, the abominable nature of the songs, (especially
_khayoor_) the horrid din of their miserable drum, the lateness of the
hour, the darkness of the place, with the reflection that I was
standing in an idol temple, and that this immense multitude of rational
and immortal creatures, capable of superior joys, were in the very act
of worship, perpetrating a crime of high treason against the God of
heaven, while they themselves believed they were performing an act of
merit, excited ideas and feelings in my mind which time can never
obliterate. I would have given in this place a specimen of the songs
sung before the image, but found them so full of broad obscenity that I
could not copy a single line. All those actions which a sense of decency
keeps out of the most indecent English songs, are here detailed, sung,
and laughed at, without the least sense of shame. A poor ballad singer
in England would be sent to the house of correction, and flogged, for
performing the _meritorious actions_ of these wretched idolaters.[71]
The singing is continued for three days from two o'clock in the morning
till nine."
It is a noteworthy fact that in those days when Bengal was in the zenith
of its prosperity and splendour, the Governor-General, the members of
the Council, the judges of the Supreme Court, and distinguished officers
and merchants, did not think it derogatory to their dignity, or at all
calculated to compromise their character as Christians, to honor the
Rajahs with their presence during this festival, but since the days of
Daniel Wilson, the highly venerated Lord Bishop of Calcutta, who must
have expressed his strong disapprobation of this practice, these great
men have ceased to attend. At present but a few young officers, captains
of ships in the port and East Indians may be seen to go to these
nautches, and as a necessary consequence of this withdrawal of
countenance, the outward splendour of the festival has of late
considerably diminished. Seeing the apparent approval of idolatrous
ceremonies by some Europeans, a conscientious Christian once exclaimed:
"I am not ashamed to confess that I fear more for the continuance of the
British power in India, from the encouragement which Englishmen have
given to the idolatry of the Hindoos, than from any other quarter
whatever."[72]
As regards the other amusements at this popular festival, a few words
about the Indian _nautch_ (dancing) girls may not be out of place here.
These women have no social status, their principles are as loose as
their character is immoral. They are brought up to this disreputable
profession from their infancy. They have no husbands, and many of them
are never married. The Native Princes, and chiefs, rich zemindars and
persons in affluent circumstances, the capacity of whose intellect is as
stinted as its culture is scanty, have been their great patrons. Devoid
of a taste for reading and writing, they managed to drive the ennui of
their lives by the songs of these dancing girls. Great were the rewards
which they sometimes received at the hands of the Native kings in their
palmy days. When a Principality groaned under extravagance and financial
embarrassment, these bewitching girls were entertained at considerable
expense to drown the cares of state-craft and king-craft. Even the most
astute prince was not free from this courtly profligacy. Though these
girls often basked in the sunshine of royal favor, yet there was not a
single _Jenny Lind_ among them either in grace or accomplishment. As
regards their income, a girl has been known to refuse ten thousand
Rupees for performing three nights at the Nazim's Court. When Rajah
Rajkissen of Sobha Bazar, the Singhee family of Jorasanko, and the Dey
family of Simla, celebrated these Poojahs with great pomp, dancing girls
of repute were retained a month previous to the festival at great cost,
varying from 500 to 1000 Rupees each for three nights. Now that those
prosperous days are gone by, and the big English officials do not
condescend to attend the nautch, the amount has been reduced to fifty
Rupees or a little more. Their general attire and gestures, as well as
the nature and tendency of their songs, are by no means unexceptionable.
These auxiliaries to sensual gratification, combined with the
allurements of Bacchus, even in the presence of a deity, are the least
of all fitted to animate or quicken devotional feelings and prayerful
thoughts.
Theatrical performances from the popular dramas of the Indian poets, and
amateur _jattras_, pantomimical exhibitions, also contribute largely to
the amusement of the people. The old _Bidday Soonder_, _Maunvunjun_,
_Dukha Juggo_, and others of a similar character are still relished by
pleasure-seekers and holiday-makers. It is, however, one of the healthy
signs of the times that native gentlemen of histrionic taste have
recently got up amateur performances, which bear a somewhat close
approximation to the English tragedies and comedies.
Having previously described all the important circumstances and details,
religious and social, connected with this popular festival, I will now
give a short account of the Bhasan or _Nirunjun_ which takes place on
the tenth day of the new moon, or in the fourth day of the Poojah. It is
also called _Bijoya_, because the end of a ceremonial is always attended
with melancholy feelings. This is the day when the image is consigned to
water either of a river or tank. Apart from its religious significance,
the day is an important one to English and Native merchants alike.
Although all the public offices, Government and mercantile, are
absolutely closed for twelve days, agents of Manchester and Glasgow
firms must open their places of business on this particular day, which
to native merchants and dealers is an auspicious day when large bargains
of Piece Goods for present and forward delivery are made. Ten to fifteen
lakhs of Rupees worth of articles are sold this day in three or four
hours, the general impression being that such bargains bring good luck
both to the buyer and the seller.
About eight o'clock in the morning, the officiating priest begins the
service, and in half an hour it is over. Music, the indispensable
accompaniment of Hindoo Poojahs, must attend every such service. A small
looking-glass is placed on a pan of Ganges water and every inmate of the
family, male or female, is invited to see the shadow or rather the
reflex of the goddess on its surface. Deeply imbued as the minds of the
votaries are with religious ideas, every individual looks on the mirror
with a sort of devotional feeling, and expresses his or her conviction
as to the reality of the representation. The children, more from
amusement than faith, hang about the place, but the females steadfastly
cling to the panoramic view, quite unwilling to leave it. Though totally
ignorant of the philosophical theory of the association or suggestion of
ideas, the scene naturally presents to their mind's eye the emotions
they feel when leaving the paternal roof for the father-in-law's house.
"_Ma Doorga_ is going to her father-in-law's and will not return for
another twelve month," exclaims one. "Look at her eyes, her sorrowful
countenance," ejaculates another. "The temple will look wild and
desolate when _Ma Doorga_ goes away," adds a third. To console them, the
mistress of the house exhorts all to offer their prayers to the goddess,
beseeching that she may continue to vouchsafe her blessings from year to
year, and give prolonged life and happiness to all concerned. With this
solemn invocation, they, each and every one, fall down on their knees
before the goddess, whose spirit had departed on the day previous, and
in a contemplative mood implore her benediction. Before retiring,
however, every one takes with her some precious relic of the offerings
(flowers or _billaputtra_) made to Doorga when her spirit was present,
and preserves it with all the care of a divine gift, using it
religiously in cases of sickness and calamity.
About three in the afternoon, after washing their bodies and putting on
new clothes and ornaments, the females make preparations for performing
the last and farewell ceremony in honor of the goddess. The _sudder_
(main) door is closed, musicians are ordered to go out in the streets,
the Doorga with all her satellites is brought out into the area of the
temple, the _barandallah_ with all its sundries is produced, and the
females whose husbands are alive begin to turn round the images and
touch the forehead of each and every one of the deities with the
_barandallah_, repeating their prayers for lasting blessings on the
family. To the inexpressible grief of the widows, who are present on the
occasion, a cruel institution has long since debarred them from
assisting in this holy work. These ill-fated creatures are doomed only
to stare at the images, but are not permitted to take an active part in
the ceremonial. Is it possible to conceive a more gloomy picture of
society than that which absolutely expunges from a human breast all
traces of a religious privilege the exercise of which, though under a
mistaken faith, tends to sweeten a wretched life? The miserable widows
of India are unhappily destined to pine away their existence until
greater leaders of native reforms arise and deliver them from the
galling fetters of superstition.
The epilogue which closes the parting ceremony is called the
_kanakanjally_, which consists in a woman (not a widow) taking a small
brass plate of paddy and _doova_ grass with a Rupee dyed in red lead in
it, and throwing it from the fore part of the image right over its head
into the cloth of a man who stands behind for the purpose of receiving
it. This last offering, it is needless to say, is preserved with the
greatest care. The female who performs the rite is an object of envy.
This rite being performed, the females take each a bit of the sweetmeat
and betel which has been _last_ offered to _Ma Doorga_. A sudden
reaction of feeling takes place, all hearts are grieved, and some
actually shed tears. Two sensations, though not exactly analogous, arise
in their minds; first the religious part of the festival, and the
consequent arousal of a devotional spirit, vividly reminding one of the
unceasing round of ritualistic ceremonies as well as festivity and
gaiety that the presence of the goddess naturally enough produced, and
which are about to vanish and disappear in an hour by the immersion of
the goddess in the river or pond; and second, a worldly one, the
recurrence of the idea when a mother sends her daughter to the house of
her father-in-law. In either case, the tender heart of a Hindoo female
easily breaks down under the pressure of grief.
The goddess is afterwards brought out and placed on a Bamboo stage borne
on the shoulders of a set of coolies, all the flowers and _billaputtra_
offered her during the past three days are also put in a basket and
taken to the riverside. The procession moves slowly forward, preceded by
bands of English and Native musicians, and the necessary retinue of
servants and guards, while from within the house, the women, not
satiated with the sight of the goddess for one long month, stretch their
eyes as far as their visual organs can extend to catch a last farewell
glimpse of her. The streets of Calcutta, the English part of the town
excepted, become literally crammed and almost impassable on such a day.
Groups of Police constables are posted here and there with a view to
maintain peace and order, the streets become a pavement of heads. At the
lowest calculation, there cannot be less than 100,000 sight-seers
abroad. Men, women and children of all classes and ranks come from a
great distance to have a sight of the image. The tops of houses, the
verandahs, the main roads, nay the unfrequented corners present a thick
mass of living creatures, all anxious to feast their eyes upon the
matchless grandeur of the scene. A foreigner, unaccustomed to such a
magnificent spectacle, is apt to overrate the wealth and prosperity of
the people on such a day. The number of images, the dazzling and costly
embellishments with which they are decorated, the rich livery of some of
the servants, the bands of musicians preceding the procession, the
letting off of red and blue lights at intervals, the gala dress of the
multitude, and last but not least, the elegant carriages of the big
"swells," and the still more elegant attire of their owners, who loll
back on the cushion of the carriages, diffusing fragrant odours as they
pass, cannot fail to produce an imposing effect. Here a gaily clad Baboo
with his patent Japan leather shoes; there a Hindoosthanee dandy with
his massive gold necklace and valuable pearls hanging down his ears;
here a proud Mogul in all the bravery of cloth of gold; there a frowning
Mussulman with his dazzling cap and gossamer _chapkan_ (tunic), and
ivory mounted stick, all combine to present a motley group of
characters, national in their costumes, and unique in appearance. The
poor country woman, her lord and children, though not favored by
fortune, still cut a figure far above their normal condition.
Those Hindoos, who adorn their images without stint of cost, parade them
through the most densely crowded streets till eight in the
evening--vanity being the chief motive of action--while those who move
in humbler spheres of life take them to boats on the river hired for the
purpose, and throw them into the water amidst shouts of exultation. The
mob of course sing obscene songs and dance indecently, all which is
tolerated for the occasion. The growing sense of the people--the result
of English education--has now-a-days greatly diminished the amount of
indecency which was one of the distinguishing characteristics of former
days on such an occasion.
Between seven and eight o'clock in the evening, the assembled crowd
begins to disperse in joyous mood, talking all the way as to the
respective superiority of such and such images. Amongst such a great
number and variety, there is sure to be difference of opinion, but it is
soon settled by the affirmation of a wise head that "the spirit of the
goddess is the same in all the images; _Ma Doorga_, does not mind show."
When the worshippers and others return home, they go at once to the
temple, where the officiating Brahmin waits for them to sprinkle on
their bodies the sacred water; all are made to sit down on the floor
with their feet covered with their clothes, lest a drop should fall upon
them. The Brahmin with a small twig of mangoe leaves sprinkles the
water, while repeating at the same time the usual incantation, the
meaning of which is that health, wealth and prosperity may attend the
votaries of _Doorga_, from year to year. After this they write on a
piece of green plantain leaf the name of the goddess several times, and
then clasp one another in their arms, and take the dust off the feet of
all the seniors, with the mutual expression of good wishes for their
worldly prosperity. An elderly man thus blesses a boy; "may you have
long life, gold inkstand and gold pen, acquire profound learning and
immense wealth, and support lakhs of men"; If a girl, he thus pronounces
his benediction (there being no clasping of arms between man and woman
nor between woman and woman), "may you enjoy all the blessings of a
married life (_i. e._, never become a widow) become the mother of a
_rajah_ (king), use vermillion on your grey head, continue to wear the
iron bangle, get seven male children, and never know want." It is well
known that no blessing is more acceptable to a Hindoo female than that
she may never become a widow, because the intolerable miseries of
widowhood are most piercing to her heart; nor can it be otherwise so
long as human nature remains unaltered. This social institution of the
Hindoos of cordially embracing each other and expressing all manner of
good wishes on a particular day of the year, when all hearts are more or
less affected with grief at the departure of the goddess, is a very
commendable one. It has an excellent tendency to promote social reunion,
good fellowship and brotherhood. Not only all the absent friends,
relatives, acquaintances and neighbours, male and female, join in this
annual greeting, but even strangers and the most menial servants are not
forgotten on the occasion. Every heart rejoices, every tongue blesses,
every acrimonious feeling is consigned to oblivion. This is a "quiet
interval at least between storm and storm; _interspaces_ of sunlight
between the breadths of gloom, a glad voice on summer holidays, happy in
unselfish friendships, in generous impulses, in strong health, in the
freedom from all cares, in the confidence of all hopes." During such a
happy period "it is a luxury to breathe the breath of life."