that is considered a fit arena for discussion--are generally seen to
engage in a controversy, the bone of contention being a debatable point
in grammar, logic, metaphysics or theology. They love to indulge in
sentimental transcendentalism, as if utterly unconscious of the
matter-of-fact tendency of the age we live in. A strong desire of
displaying their deep learning and high classical acquirements in
Sanskrit, not sometimes unmixed with a contemptible degree of
affectation, insensibly leads them to violate the fundamental laws of
decorum. When two or more Pundits wrangle, the warmth of debate
gradually draws them nearer and closer to each other, until from sober,
solid argumentation, they descend to the _argumentum ad ignorantiam_, if
not, to the _argumentum adbaculum_. Their taking a pinch of snuff, the
quick moving of their hands, the almost involuntary unrobing of their
garment, which consists of a single _dhooty_ and _dubja_ often put round
the neck, the vehement tone in which they conduct a discussion, the
utter want of attention to each other's arguments, and their constant
divergence from the main point whence they started, throw a serio-comic
air over the scene which a Dave Carson only could imitate. They do not
know what candour is, they are immovable in their own opinion, and
scarcely anything could conquer their dogged persistence in their own
argument, however fallacious it may be. They are as prodigal in the
quotation of specious texts in support of their own particular thesis as
they are obstinately deaf to the sound logical view of an opponent.
Brahminical learning is certainly uttered in "great swarths" which, like
polished pebbles, are sometimes mistaken for diamonds. The way in which
the disputants give flavour to their arguments is quite a study in the
art of dropping meanings. The destruction of the old husks, and the
transparent sophistries, of the disputatious Brahmins, is one of the
great marvels achieved by the rapid diffusion of Western knowledge.
When engaged in an animated discussion, these Pundits will not desist or
halt until they are separated by their other learned friends of the
faculty. Some of them are very learned in the Shastra, especially in
_Smrittee_, on which a dispute often hangs, but they have very little
pretension to the calm and dispassionate discussion of a subject.
Cogency of argument is almost invariably lost in the vehemence of
declamation and in the utterance of unmeaning patter. Their arguments
are not like Lord Beaconsfield's speeches,--a little labored and
labyrinthine at first, but soon working themselves clear and becoming
amusing and sagacious. Let it not be understood from this that the
language (Sanskrit) in which they speak is destitute of sound logic, as
Mr. James Mill would have his readers believe; it is certainly deficient
in science and the correct principles of natural philosophy as developed
by modern discoveries, but the elegance of its diction, the beautiful
poetical imagery in which it abounds, the sound moral doctrines which it
inculcates, the force of argument by which it is distinguished, and the
elevated ideas which its original system of theology unfolds, afford no
good reason why it should not be stamped with the dignity and importance
of a classical language, and why "the deep students of it should not
enjoy some of the honors and estimation conferred by the world on those
who have established a name for an erudite acquaintance with Latin and
Greek." If the respective merits of all the classical languages are
properly estimated, it is not too much to say that the Sanskrit language
will in no way suffer by the comparison, though as history abundantly
testifies it labored under all the adverse circumstances of mighty
political changes and convulsions, no less than the intolerant bigotry
of many of the Moslem conquerors, whose unsparing devastations have
destroyed some of the best specimens of Sanskrit composition. "When our
princes were in exile," says a celebrated Hindoo writer, "driven from
hold to hold and compelled to dwell in the clefts of the mountains,
often doubtful whether they would not be forced to abandon the very meal
preparing for them, was that a time to think of historical records," and
we should say, of literary excellence? The deep and laborious researches
of Sir William Jones, Colebrooke, Macnaghten, Wilson, Wilkins, and a
host of other distinguished German and French savants, have, in a great
measure, brought to light the hidden treasures of the Sanskrit language.
From eight o'clock in the morning to 2 o'clock in the evening, the house
of a _Shrad_ is crammed to suffocation. A spacious awning covers the
open space of the court-yard, preventing the free access of air; carpets
and satterangees are spread on the ground for the _Kayastas_ and other
castes to sit on, while the Brahmins and Pundits by way of precedence
take their seats on the raised _Thacoordallan_, or place of worship. The
couch-cot with bedding, and the _dan_ consisting of silver and brass
utensils enumerated before, with a silver salver filled with Rupees, are
arranged in a straight line opposite the audience, leaving a little open
space for _kittanees_, or bands of songsters or songstresses and
musicians, which form the necessary accompaniment of a _Shrad_ for the
purpose of imparting solemnity to the scene. Three or four door-keepers
guard the entrance, so that no intruders may enter and create a
disturbance. The guests begin to come in at eight, and are courteously
asked to take their appropriate seats (Brahmins among Brahmins, and
Kayastas among Kayastas,) the servants in waiting serve them with
_hookah_ and tobacco,[122] those given to the Brahmins having a thread
or string fastened at the top for the sake of distinction. The Kayastas
and other guests are seen constantly going in and coming out, but the
generality of the Brahmins stick to their places until the funeral
ceremony is completed. The current topics of the day form the subject of
conversation while the _hookah_ goes round the assembly with great
precision and punctuality. The female relatives are brought in covered
_palkees_, as has been described before, by a separate entrance, shut
out from the gaze of the males. But as this is a mourning scene their
naturally convivial spirit gives way to condolence and sympathy.
Excessive grief does not allow the mother or the wife of the deceased to
take an active part in the melancholy proceedings of the day; they
generally stay aloof in a separate room, and are perhaps heard to mourn
or cry. The very sight of the mourning offerings, instead of affording
any consolation, almost involuntarily enkindles the flame of sorrow, and
produces a train of thoughts in keeping with the commemoration of the
sad event. Sisters of a congenial spirit try to soothe them by precepts
and examples, but their admonition and condolence prove in the main
unavailing. The appearance of a new face revives the sad emotions of the
heart. Nothing can dispel from the minds of a disconsolate mother or
wife the gloomy thoughts of her bereavement, and the still more gloomy
idea of a perpetual widowhood. The clang of _khole_ and _kharatal_
(musical instruments), which is fitted, as it were, from its very
dissonance, to drive away the ghost and kill the living, falls doubly
grating on her ears, while the fond endearments of _Jasoda_, the mother
of Krishna, rehearsed by the songsters in the outer court-yard, but
aggravate her grief the more. Weak and tenderhearted by nature, she
gradually sinks under the overwhelming load of despondency, and raising
her hand to her forehead mournfully exclaims, "has Fate reserved all
this for me?" In such cases, there is appropriateness in silence.
About ten o'clock the son begins to perform the rite of the funeral
obsequies, taking previously the permission of the Brahmins and the
assembled guests to do so. The officiating priest reads the formulas, he
repeating them. It must be noticed here that tenacious as the Hindoos
are in respect of the distinction of caste, they do not scruple to
invite lower orders on such an occasion, but they would not mix with
them at the time of eating. The _Dulloputty_ or head of the party, makes
his appearance about this time; when he enters the house, all other
guests then present, except the Brahmins, as a token of respect for his
position, rise on their legs, and do not resume their seats until he
sits down. For this distinction or honour a _Dullopatty_ has to spend an
immense sum of money, to which allusion has already been made. His
appearance serves as a signal for the performance of the rite, called
_mala chandan_, or the distribution of garlands and sandal paste among
the assembled multitude. As a matter of course, the Brahmins by way of
pre-eminence receive the first garland, and after them the _Dullopatty_
obtains the same honour, and then the _Koolins_[123] and other guests
according to rank. Where there is no _Dullopatty_, the garland is put
round the neck of a boy, at which no one can take any offence, and
afterwards they are distributed indiscriminately.
Meantime the son is engaged in the performance of the ceremony, while
the bands of songsters quarrel with one another for the privilege of
entertaining the audience with their songs, which renders confusion
worse confounded. Female songsters of questionable virtue are now more
in favor than their male rivals, which is an unerring proof of the
degeneracy of the age. Only one band is formally engaged, but thirty
bands may come of their own accord, quite uninvited. The disappointed
ones generally get from two to four Rupees each, but the party retained
gets much more, the rich guests coming in making them presents, besides
what they obtain from the family retaining them.
About one in the afternoon, the ceremony is brought to a close, and the
assembled multitudes begin to disperse. Those who have to attend their
offices return earlier, but not without offering the compliments suited
to the gravity of the occasion. Some of the Brahmins remain behind to
receive their customary _bidhay_ or gift. According to their reputation
for learning they obtain their rewards. The first in the list gets, in
ordinary cases, about five Rupees in cash, and one brass pot valued, at
four or five Rupees, the second and third in proportion, and the rest,
say, from one to two Rupees each, in addition to a brass utensil. The
silver utensils of which the _soroshes_ are made are afterwards cut and
allotted to the Brahmins according to their worth or status in the
republic of letters. The _Gooroo_ or spiritual guide, and the _Purrohit_
or officiating priest, being the most interested parties, generally
carry off the lion's share. So great is their cupidity that the one
disputes the right of the other as to the amount of reward they are
respectively entitled to. As a matter of course, the _Gooroo_, from his
spiritual ascendency, manages to carry off the highest prize. The
distribution of rewards among the Brahmins and Pundits of different
degrees of scholarly attainments, is a rather thankless task. In common
with other human beings, they are seldom satisfied, especially when the
question is one of Rupees. Each sets a higher value on his own descent
and learning, undervaluing the worth of his compeers. The voice of the
President, who has many a knotty question to solve, decides their fate,
but it is seldom that a classification of this nature results in
producing general satisfaction. As these Pundits, or rather professors,
called _Adhaypucks_, do not eat in the house of _Soodras_, in addition
to their reward in money and kind, they, each of them, receive a small
quantity of sweetmeats and sugar, say about two pounds in all in lieu of
_achmany jalpan_ or fried and prepared food. On a _Shrad_ day in the
afternoon one can see numbers of such Brahmins walk through the native
part of the city, with an earthen plate of sweetmeats in one hand and a
brass pot in the other, the fruits of their day's labor. Such gains
being quite precarious, and the prospect looming before them quite
discouraging, the annual sum total they derive from this source is quite
inadequate to their support, and that of the _chottoos-pattee_ or school
they keep. Hence many such institutions for the cultivation of Sanskrit
have been abandoned for want of sufficient encouragement, and as a
necessary consequence the sons and grandsons of these Brahmins have
taken to secular occupations, quite incompatible with the spirit of the
Shastra. In the halcyon days of Hindoo sovereignty, when Brahminical
learning was in the ascendant and rich religious endowments were freely
made for the support of the hierarchy,[124] as well from the influence
of vanity as from the compunctions of a death-bed repentance, such
_chottoos-pattees_ annually sent forth many a brilliant scholar,--the
pride of his professor and the ornament of his country. But the
advancement of English education--the only passport to honor and
emoluments--has necessarily laid, as it were, an embargo on the
extensive culture of Brahminical erudition. The University curriculum,
however, under the present Government, embraces a system well calculated
to remove the reproach.
The day following the funeral ceremony is spent in giving an
entertainment to the Brahmins, without which a Hindoo cannot regain his
former purity. About twelve, they begin to assemble, and when the number
reaches two or three hundred, _Koosasan_ or grass seats in long straight
rows are arranged for them in the spacious court-yard, and as Hindoos
use nothing but green plantain leaves for plates on such grand
occasions, each guest is provided with a cut piece on which are placed
the fruits of the season, ghee-fried _loochees_ and _kachoories_, and
several sorts of sweetmeats in earthen plates for which there are no
English names. In spite of the utmost vigilance of door-keepers and
others, intruders in rather decent dress enter the premises and sit down
to eat with the respectable Brahmins, but should such a character be
found out, steps are instantly taken to oust him. On a grand occasion,
some such unpleasant cases are sure to occur. There are loafers among
Hindoos as there are among Europeans. These men, whom misfortune or
crime has reduced to the last state of poverty, are prepared to put up
with any amount of insult so long as they have their fill. When a Hindoo
makes a calculation about the expenses of an entertainment at a _Shrad_
or marriage (both grand occasions), he is constrained to double or
treble his quantum of supply that he may be enabled to meet such a
contingency without any inconvenience. The practice referred to is a
most disreputable one, and beseems a people not far above the level of a
Nomad tribe. Even some of the Brahmins[125] who are invited do not
scruple to take a portion home, regardless of the contaminated touch of
a person of the lowest order, simply because the temptation is too
strong to be resisted. Before departure, each and every one of the
Brahmins obtains one or two annas as _dakhinah_, a concession which is
not accorded to any other caste.
The next day, a similar entertainment is given to the Kayastas and other
classes, which is accompanied by the same noise, confusion and tumult
that characterised the entertainment given on the previous day. The
sober and quiet enjoyments of life which have a tendency to enliven the
mind can seldom be expected in a Hindoo house of _Shrad_, where all is
_golemal_, confusion and disorder. When a dinner is announced, a regular
scramble takes place, the rude and the uninvited occupy the _first_
seats to the exclusion of the genteel and respectable, and when the
eatables are beginning to be served, the indecent cries of "bring
_loochee_, bring _kachoorie_, bring _tarkari_," and so on, are heard
every now and again, much to the disturbance of the polite and the
discreet.
The day following is called the _neeumbhanga_, or the day on which the
son is allowed to break the rules of mourning after one month. In the
morning the band of songsters previously retained come and treat the
family to songs of Krishna, taking care to select pieces which are most
pathetic and heart-rending, befitting the mournful occasion of a very
heavy domestic bereavement. The singing continues till twelve or one
o'clock, and some people seem to be so deeply affected that they
actually shed tears, and forget for a while their worldly cares and
anxieties. When the songs are finished, the son and his nearest
relatives, rubbing their bodies with oil and turmeric, remove the
_brisakat_ on their shoulders from the house to a place near it. A hole
is made, and the _brisakat_ (a painted log of wood about six feet high)
with an ox on the top, &c., is put into it; after this they all bathe
and return home. The songsters are dismissed with presents of money,
clothes and food.
The son then sits down to a dinner with his nearest blood relation, and
this is the _first_ day that he leaves his _habishee_ diet after a
month's mourning, and takes to the use of fish and other Hindoo dishes.
He is also allowed to change his mourning dress and put on shoes, after
having made a present of a pair to a Brahmin; he, moreover, sleeps with
his wife from this day as before, in fact he reverts to his former mode
of living in every respect.
As the entertainment this time consists of _vojan_, made up of rice and
curries, and not _jalpan_, made up of _loochees_ and sweetmeats,
comparatively a smaller number of guests assemble on the occasion[126]
and that of loafers and intruders exhibits a very diminished
proportion. Even on such occasions, one can always tell from a distance
that there is a feast at such a house from the noise it is invariably
attended with.
Having described above the details connected with the funeral ceremony,
I will now endeavour to give an account of one or two of the most
celebrated _Shrads_ that took place in Bengal after the battle of
Plassey, premising that every thing which shall be said on the subject
is derived chiefly from hearsay, as no authentic historical records have
come down to us. The first and most celebrated _Shrad_ was that
performed by Dewan Gunga Gobind Set, on the occasion of his mother's
death. It was performed on so large a scale that he caused reservoirs to
be made which were filled with ghee and oil, immense heaps of rice,
flour and _dhall_ were piled on the ground. Several large rooms were
quite filled with sweetmeats of all sorts. Mountains of earthen pots and
firewood were stacked on the Maidan. Hundreds of Brahmin cooks and
confectioners were constantly at work to provide victuals for the
enormous concourse of people. Silver and brass utensils of all kinds
were arranged in pyramids. Hundreds of couches with bedding were placed
before the _Sabha_, (assembly). Elephants richly caparisoned with silver
trappings formed presents to Brahmins. Tens of thousands of silver coins
bearing the stamp of _Shah Allum_ were placed on massive silver plates.
And to crown the whole, thousands of learned Pundits from all parts of
the country congregated together to impart a religious solemnity to the
spectacle. All these preparations lent a grandeur to the scene, which
was in the highest degree imposing. Countless myriads of beggars from
the most distant parts of the Province assembled together, and they were
not only fed for weeks at the expense of the Dewan, but were dismissed
with presents of money, clothes and food, with the most enthusiastic
hosannas on their lips. For more than two months the distribution of
alms and presents lasted, and what was the most praiseworthy feature in
the affair was the Job-like patience of the Dewan, whose charity flowed
like the rushing flood-tide of the holy Ganges on the banks of which he
presented offerings to the manes of his ancestors. Some of the
_Adhapucks_ or Professors obtained as much as one thousand Rupees each
in cash and gold and silver articles, or rather fragments of the same,
to a considerable value. Besides these magnificent honorariums the whole
of their travelling and lodging expenses were defrayed by the Dewan, who
was reputed to be so rich that like Croesus of old he did not know how
much he was worth; hence there is still a current saying amongst the
Bengalees, which runs thus: "If ever money were wanted, Gouri Set will
pay." Gouri Set was the son of Gunga Gobind Set. The expenses of the
_Shrad_ have been variously estimated at between ten and twelve lacks of
Rupees. The result of this truly extravagant expenditure was wide-spread
fame, and the name of the donor is still cherished with grateful
remembrance. But as all human greatness is evanescent, the fame of the
family for charity once unparalleled in the annals of Bengal has long
since dwindled into insignificance.
The next _Shrad_ of importance was that of Maharajah Nabkissen Bahadoor
of Shobhabazar, Calcutta. His son Raja Rajkissen performed the _Shrad_,
which, to this day, stands unrivalled in this city. Four sets of gold
and sixty-four sets of silver utensils described before, amounting in
value to near a lakh of Rupees, were given on the occasion. Such
paraphernalia go by the name of _dansagor_ or "gift like the sea."
Besides these presents in money to Brahmins upwards of two lakhs of
Rupees were given to the poor.
If these immense sums of money had been invested for the permanent
support of a Charitable Institution, it would have done incalculable
good to society. But then there was no regularly organised system of
Public Charity, nor had the people any idea of it. Such immense sums
were spent mostly for religious purposes according to the prevailing
notions of the age. Tanks, reservoirs, flights of steps on the banks of
the river,[127] fine rows of trees, every three miles stone buildings or
choultries for travellers, affording a grateful shelter throughout the
country, were among the works of public utility constructed by the
charitably disposed.
FOOTNOTES:
[113] This means that he must soon die.
[114] _Boyetarni_ is a river which must be crossed before one gets to
heaven; the rite consists in distributing a certain amount of _cowries_
among the Brahmins for guiding the soul through the Death Valley to the
other side.
[115] A Hindoo, especially a grown up man, if he die at home is branded
as an unrighteous person; many a one otherwise esteemed righteous in his
life-time is denounced as a sinful being should he not expire on the
banks of the holy stream. In the _rari_, or inland provinces, through
which the Ganges does not flow, people are constrained to breathe their
last on the banks of a neighbouring tank and are consequently precluded,
from their geographical position, from securing the benefit of this
_cheap_ mode of salvation. As a partial atonement for this natural
disadvantage, they bring the navel of the dead and throw it into the
holy stream, which, in their supposition, is tantamount to the
purification of the soul.
[116] A few years back the Calcutta Municipality proposed to have the
burning Ghaut removed to Dhappa, a notoriously unhealthy marshy swamp,
some six miles east of Calcutta, bordering on the Soonderbunds, because
the present site was considered a nuisance to the city. As must
naturally be expected, great sensation was produced among the Hindoo
population, and memorials were submitted to the Government of Bengal,
signed by the most influential portion of the Hindoo community. In spite
of solicitation and remonstrance, the Municipality were determined to
carry out their plan, but the _mighty_ Ramgopal Ghose, as the late Mr.
James Hume, the Editor of the "_Eastern Star_," styled him, interposed
and exerted his best, at great personal sacrifice, to nullify the
proposal. The Hindoos called a meeting, and Ramgopal, moved by the
entreaties of his countrymen, made an admirable speech at the Town Hall,
on which occasion no less than fifty thousand people assembled on the
_maidan_ facing the Town Hall. In the speech he set forth, in a graphic
manner, the suitableness of the present site, and the distress and
hardship of the people, as well as the shock to religious feeling which
the removal would involve. He eventually succeeded in prevailing on the
authorities to withdraw the proposal. When he came out of the Town Hall,
he was most enthusiastically cheered by thousands of people, Brahmins
and Soodras, and loud cries of "may he live long" were heard on all
sides.
[117] Some forty years back these Brahmins and their whole crew of
_murdur-farashassys_ were a regular set of ragamuffins whose sole
occupation was to fleece their victims in the most extortionate manner
imaginable; the Brahmin would not read the formula, nor his myrmidons
put up the funeral pile, without having received nearly four times the
amount of the present cost. Great credit is due to Baboo Chunder Mohun
Chatterjee, the late Registrar, for his strenuous exertions in making
the Police frame a set of rules for regulating the funeral expenses at
the burning Ghaut. It is a public boon which cannot be too highly
appreciated.