Seven Legs Across the Seas Part 27

This city shared with Cawnpore in the horrors of the Mutiny, as 3,000 souls were behind the historic walls of the Residency when the siege began, and when relief came there were less than a thousand alive.

Bedding is not generally furnished by hotels in India. Frequently, the "bed" is only a bedstead and springs, or, as will be found in smaller centers, strips of cowhide, lashed at sides, top and bottom, answer for springs; again, there is a mattress on the springs, but no bedclothing or pillows. At other times, only one sheet over the mattress, and nothing else. Owing to this unusual custom, a bag for carrying bedding is generally included in travelers' luggage. The contrast between India and Germany in this respect is very marked, as at a small hotel in Berlin at which I stopped the bed had a sheet and a feather tick for a covering. It was summer-time, but the covering would answer for Arctic weather. In one case the sheet was not sufficient covering; in the other the tick was too much.

One is more successful in beating down hotel rates in this country than anywhere else. It is a place of haggle and barter, and the business system aims to make a customer feel he has got the better of the bargain, while the seller is satisfied with his profit, although having come down from the original price one-half. There is always doubt whether the customer really has got the better of the transaction; but there is no question, however, about getting a concession, when, after a hotelkeeper has asked six or seven rupees a day, the traveler pays only five rupees ($1.60) a day. It seems to break an Indian boniface's heart to see a prospective guest go to another hotel.

"Babus" are men engaged at clerical work, and one has to scan his hotel bill closely before settling, as a babu may add an item to the laundry list or for ice, or even charge for other things that go with hotel accommodation. Many persons will overlook a small charge, and well the babu knows it. Extras belong to him.

The hotels are generally of one story, and all doors open on to a covered veranda. Almost every one has a servant--a "boy"--with him.

Early in the evening and during the night, in front of room doors, may be seen one, two and sometimes three "boys" sleeping. If their master or any European should pa.s.s where they are lying they hurriedly arise in their blankets, salaam and bow, then immediately lie down again, remaining thus until another European footstep is heard, when up they jump, offer another salaam, and quickly settle down again to sleep. As few Indians wear shoes, they know when an European is approaching.

When leaving a hotel there will be four to six servants helping the guest and his luggage into a conveyance. As most of them look alike, it becomes necessary to ask each one what part he played in adding to one's comfort while making his stay. In answer to who's who, one will say he is the table "boy," another the room "boy," another the bath "boy," and yet another, the sweeper. Others are also present to see one comfortably on his way, but gratuities may be limited to four.

Three rupees--a dollar--proportionately divided among the four is generally given for a week's or ten days' stay.

On entering the native quarters--the bazaars--of the Indian cities one is generally escorted by "runners" of silk merchants, bra.s.s manufacturers, lacquer merchants and others. A friend and myself rode on a two-wheeled trap, the seat facing backward; and as we entered one of the arteries of the Chauk Bazaar the crowd of people and merchants'

runners that filled the narrow street from house wall to house wall was so dense that the garrywaller gave up trying to proceed further.

It took us some time to reach the entrance on foot. No holiday was being celebrated--this was an every day occurrence.

In all the cities of this section are sports grounds, a race track, a church, and public library for Europeans. A large cantonment is located in Lucknow.

The country over which we had traveled was so flat that it looked as if there was no necessity for grading or cutting in the railway of even two feet for a hundred miles. The "windmill," the stick-and-bolt plough, the irrigation trench, and an occasional tree; the oxen, with humps on their shoulders; the mud huts; the spa.r.s.ely clad and half-starved natives were scenes of similarity from Lucknow to Benares, the sacred city of the Hindu. Benares is to the Hindu what Mecca, in Arabia, is to the Mohammedan.

One beholds beggars, beggars, beggars--repulsive looking specimens of humanity--and pariah dogs inside and outside the temples; some of the enclosures of the temples alive with monkeys and goats; cattle standing munching in front of golden images of Hindu G.o.ds, up to their fetlocks in yellow flowers and tender leaves; bony and poorly dressed women flitting in and out of narrow alleys and through doorways into temples, carrying a bra.s.s or copper water-pot full of Ganges River water; vagabond priests on the "ghats," resting on a platform covered with a large sun-shade, receiving money from very poor people for making clay marks on their forehead--caste marks--all sacred! Beastly and idolatrous would be a better term to apply to Benares.

Two-thirds of the population of India--207,000,000--are followers of the Brahmanic faith, and even one of the lowest caste believes he is a unit in the great universe as compared to an Indian who has no caste distinction.

People of the Brahmanic faith come from all parts of India to bathe in the Ganges River at Benares, which, by the way, is nearly as muddy as the Missouri River. Their hope of a peaceful hereafter is strengthened by a visit to the sacred city, but the poverty and suffering entailed through spending money for the trip by those living a great distance away is keenly felt.

At Durga, or Monkey Temple, which is surrounded by high walls, 350 monkeys were climbing up the sides of the church, scampering about the walls, but always keeping an eye on the visitor. Upon entering the temple enclosure a priest insists on one buying popcorn or other food for the monkeys; then a second priest slips a garland of flowers over one's head, another method of getting a little money. Besides monkeys, mangy dogs come close, expecting popcorn, and impudent goats rub their noses against visitors' clothes. The temple is painted an ocher color, symbolizing the character of the G.o.d Durga--blood. Many beggars were inside the enclosure, and were very numerous outside. Everything about the place bore an air the reverse of sacred or solemn.

The Golden Temple, hidden among many buildings, is the most important to pilgrims. Three domes, covered with plates of gold over plates of copper, ornament this structure; the floor is said to be inlaid with 100,000 rupee pieces ($32,000). A narrow alley runs in front of the temple, and only two persons can pa.s.s at a time. Flower stands, and men selling flowers, are plentiful about the entrance and along the pa.s.sageway. Inside the building are several shrines; in front of one stood a Brahmani bull, and in front of another a Brahmani cow, both animals having humps on their shoulders. Near the shrines peac.o.c.ks and deer were also seen. People were streaming in and out of the temple all the time, those going in carrying a water-pot, made of bra.s.s or earth, filled with Ganges water, and a handful of yellow flowers and tender leaves, bought outside. The flowers and leaves were fed to the bull and cow, and the wors.h.i.+per sprinkled the water over himself while paying homage at the shrine. All the time a din from cymbals, tom-toms and other harsh instruments was kept up, sounding more like a boiler factory than anything else. Every one was in bare feet. Most of the men wore only a loin cloth, and the prominent ribs and other bones of their bodies suggested a doubt of their ever having had a square meal.

Around the women's ankles were rings, around the wrists were cheap gla.s.s or pewter bangles; the ears contained cheap ornaments, and a gewgaw pendant hung from the nose over the mouth, secured to the nostrils' part.i.tion. At every point of vantage beggars and fakirs were as thick as flies. The constantly inpouring crowd and weird music is kept up the whole day, year in and year out. There is nothing doubtful about the sacred water--every drop is taken from the historical river and carried to the temple. In some of the shrines is an image of a monkey, a cow, a peac.o.c.k, or a double-headed beast of awful appearance; and G.o.ds in flaring red represent fire and thunder. All the time priests are collecting money from the wors.h.i.+pers.

Many professional loafers, known as "jojees" or devotees, are seen in India. They will hold up one of their arms for years until it has become rigid and the fingernails have grown and twisted about the hand like roots; some hang by one foot from a pole, like the flying foxes of Tonga; or distort themselves in other unnatural positions. This is done in accordance with their supposed religious belief as bodily penance, and they are looked upon as martyrs. Some of them have ashes on their bodies, which they sell, mostly to women. Rice and money are thrown to these knotty-whiskered, filthy fakirs by poor people who really cannot afford the gifts, but who think they are doing a religious act.

The view of Benares from the Ganges River is an unusually fine one. On the high banks at this point stone steps have been built leading from the top to the water. Above the steps and banks stand attractive temples and palaces. At certain times of year the temples are used by pilgrims who come from every point of India to wors.h.i.+p. Sections of the steps have proper names, which are called "ghats"--used for the English word place, as Dandi Ghat (place).

Over a million pilgrims journey to Benares each year, where they bathe in the Ganges as a purifying tenet of their religion. Among others, there is a small-pox ghat, where those suffering from small-pox may bathe, in the hope of being healed; also bathing ghats for other diseases, where purifying rites are carried out. On each ghat are several raised platforms, having large sunshades, where men, their legs half curled under them, are sitting. Every one leaving the water stops at a platform, where caste marks are made on their foreheads, each supplicant leaving money with the marker. Some have no money coins and leave cowrie sh.e.l.ls instead. These markers are priests. The pilgrims then wend their way to a temple and wors.h.i.+p either an idol painted red, having three eyes, a silver scalp, or an elephant's trunk covered with a yellow bib; the figure of a rat; a monkey of bra.s.s, wood or iron, or some other image. At the temple the faithful make another donation, tom-toms, cymbals and other instruments playing meanwhile to awaken the G.o.ds of wood, bra.s.s or stone.

A few hours after death a body is brought to a burning ghat, men being covered with a white sheet and women with a red cloth. Smoke from a dozen to fifty pyres may be seen rising from the ghat, and the ashes are thrown into the Ganges just below. The fuel for a pyre costs $1.60; wealthy Indians use sandalwood for this purpose. Children of five years of age and under are not cremated, their bodies being cast into the Ganges, with a weight attached. "Holy men" of the church are not cremated; they are either buried or, like the children, cast into the Ganges River.

Every pilgrim, on leaving Benares, takes with him a quant.i.ty of Ganges water, though he may live a thousand miles away. Were a European to touch accidentally a pilgrim's water-pot, the Hindu would feel that the sacred water had been defiled.

Caste customs in India forbid intermarriage of one with another; they must not eat nor drink together; must not partake of food prepared by a lower caste, and shun even touching the clothes of those beneath them. Were an Indian merchant to adopt the Christian religion, his business would probably be ruined, his home possibly be surrounded by a mob, and he would be fortunate to escape with his life, having degraded his caste. A man may be poor, and yet of a higher caste than some wealthy Indians.

Women, with two blanks in their heads, may be seen begging in many places. To raise her head when out walking as a man pa.s.sed is considered a violation of a wife's vow by her husband, for which offense their eyes are sometimes literally gouged out. High-caste women keep very much to their homes.

A white woman would be thought little of by her servants were she to do domestic duties, such as dusting and putting a finis.h.i.+ng touch to the interior. Here are instances of how helpless some Europeans become when in India: Were a man to brush his own clothes, or even lace his shoes, these acts would prove sources of unfavorable comment by the servants. A man, wanting to know the hour, sometimes calls his "boy"; the servant takes the watch from his master's pocket, holds the timepiece level with his employer's eyes, replaces the watch in his master's pocket, and leaves the room. When keeping an appointment with a servant, the master must not be punctual, but keep the servant waiting. If the Sahib was punctual, and the servant happened to be late, the master would be looked down upon for waiting for his minion.

The cow is revered, not only owing to its service in maintaining life by its milk, but because some of the Hindu sects believe that, after death, they will be borne across a river on the back of the cow to a better country. Hindus who do not wear long hair have a tuft growing from the crown, or a little below that point. In case the cow should fail to be on hand to take him across, a mysterious arm is supposed to reach down, take hold of his tuft of hair, and by that means place him in the better land. One would be disgraced were the tuft of hair removed.

Much of the ornamental bra.s.swork seen in many parts of the world comes from Benares, for which the Hindu Mecca is famed. Small idols and images in bra.s.s or other materials are made in large quant.i.ties. The bra.s.sworkers sit down while turning out their product.

Ruins of the temples of Benares are located at Sarnath, five miles from the city; these evidences of the past are seen in crumbled walls and earth depressions. Brick and stone was the material used in building, but the brick was much thinner and longer than the present-day block. The most striking remains standing of the ancient city is the Dhamek Stupa, or tower, which consists of a stone bas.e.m.e.nt, 93 feet in diameter, the stones being clamped together with iron bands to the height of 43 feet. Above that point the tower is of brickwork, rising to a height of 128 feet. Niches built in projecting faces of the tower contain the figure of Buddha, and encircling the monument is a band of sculptured ornaments of much interest. There is some doubt among authorities as to whether the stupa has stood all these years; it is the only building of the ancient temples at present standing. Another stupa, not as ma.s.sive as the Dhamek, was pa.s.sed before reaching the ruins. At one place among the crumbled temples is the Main Shrine, the whole standing on a concrete foundation, with a rail on the upper part of the altar. Close by is the Asoka Pillar, which is broken, but was at one time 50 feet high, and is believed to mark the spot where Buddha preached his first sermon.

Excavations are under way all the time at Sarnath, and a museum located at that place contains a large variety of interesting fragments of the early Buddhist temples.

CHAPTER IV.

A start was next made for the Himalayas in a northeasterly direction, seldom traversed by persons going to that section of the mountain country. I was the only white man on the train, and in view of few European travelers taking this route no provision had been made for food. The third-cla.s.s coaches were packed with natives. We pa.s.sed through the opium poppy growing country, the sugar-cane and indigo fields, and, further along, reached the jute-growing country in Bengal. The train had left Benares in the morning, but it was twelve hours later before food was available.

At a place known as Katihar I had to remain a day in order to make through connections. One of the sub-stations, located a short distance from the railway track, was alive with pa.s.sengers, but no one seemed to really care when the trains came and went. Natives eating rice, wheat cakes, bananas, sticks of sugar-cane, thick pieces of candy, rolls like crullers, smoking the hooka (a long pipe with two bowls, through one of which, containing water, the smoke from the tobacco or hemp pa.s.ses to the stem), gambling, begging; the big Kabuli--who looks like a storm in silent mood--offering for sale alleged rare coins; women with one to three very small children, all untidy and dirty--such is life in India.

The train left Katihar in the evening for Silliguri. An Englishman got in the same coach, and I was much pleased to have a white man with me.

This train was not lighted by electricity, and there were doubts about the oil in the lamp being of American brand, for the light went out before we reached the second station, and when the train stopped the Englishman could be heard shouting from the coach for some one to relight it. The trainman had got no further than the rear of the train, when the lamp gave a final flicker. The Britisher again began to shout, but the train was then moving. The three following stops were a repet.i.tion of the first, and, the Englishman finally admitting his defeat, we stretched out on berths for the night. Most trains in India have berths in the pa.s.senger coaches, but every one furnishes his own bedding. The next morning found us at Silliguri, and in front were spread out the Himalayas. From here a start was made up the mountains.

The Himalaya Mountains rise abruptly out of the flat plains, a striking contrast to those of other countries. One would expect the base of the Indian mountains to be at an alt.i.tude of 3,000 to 6,000 feet, but Silliguri, located a few miles from where the ascent begins, is only 400 feet above sea-level.

The interior of the Himalayas is reached by means of a train of small cars, drawn by a ten-ton locomotive over a two-foot railway track.

There are three cla.s.ses of travel--first, second and third.

First-cla.s.s fare is 12 cents a mile, second-cla.s.s 6 cents, and third-cla.s.s 3 cents. These fares include a very small baggage allowance. First- and second-cla.s.s coaches are of the compartment type, third-cla.s.s having curtained sides, with bare-seated benches across. The schedule is ten miles an hour, either going up or coming down the mountain.

The engine soon starts up an incline through a row of trees on both sides of the track, with every seat in the coaches occupied and the baggage car filled with luggage. The narrow train turns to the left, then to the right; another sharp turn, and puff, puff, puff, as a bend in still another direction is made; down a decline next over culverts spanning rippling brooks and under turnpike bridges, then up, when the grandeur of the great range begins to unfold. Down grade again, the train stopping, after traveling but a comparatively short distance, at a precipitous wall. Backing out over a switchback--there being five of these on the mountain railroad--we next creep up a steep, serpentine grade. Houses above and houses and huts below, surrounded by semi-tropical growth and cultivated ground--there being little rock in the mountain--with stretches of low brush, laid out in regular rows, below us, appear. A house and huts have been built in these bush-like tracts of land; these are tea gardens. A screeching whistle diverts the pa.s.sengers' gaze from downward to forward--we were pulling into Kurseong, the halfway station, where some pa.s.sengers get off and others board the train. The locomotive, being supplied with coal and water, again begins to puff, puff, puff, up a steep grade for a short distance, then eases down a decline. The mountain is now so steep that the narrow train can worm its way no longer about the side, coming to another switchback. Backing out and again ascending, a silver streak is seen, far below, winding over the plains--the Teesta River. Above, the sky appears to rest on green mountain-tops. Upward the little locomotive climbs, seeming to make sharp bends at every hundred feet.

The mountainside has now become a great tea plantation, and through the hazy atmosphere the plains are but dimly seen. The sky, which from below seemed to be resting on the point now reached, is further beyond. Approaching an ever-receding horizon at distant outposts from time to time leads one occasionally to fancy he were b.u.mping his shoulders against the arch of the sky at sundry points of the outer circle. The narrow train laboriously continues upward, while pa.s.sengers direct their gaze down gaping caverns, on the rim of which the railway track sometimes rests. Further on, the grade gradually reducing until traveling on a short, level stretch of road, the train stops. We have reached Ghoom, the highest point on the line, where more pa.s.sengers leave and others get out of the coaches to stretch their legs. Oh! a great white ridge, high above valleys and tea gardens--it is Mount Kinchinjanga, whose summit seems to intrude far into the sky. What seems like trespa.s.sing on the sky's domain is explained when the height of the mountain is made known--28,156 feet.

The train again proceeds, but down grade now, still winding and twisting--not over a quarter of a mile straight track along the route--until a sharp bend is reached. Then, as far as the eye could reach, the high, white, stalwart peaks of the Himalayas were revealed in their grandest form. Further on the train stops. We are at Darjeeling, the end of the mountain railway, 50 miles from Silliguri.

Baden-Baden, Germany--where one can walk about the splendid grounds for half a day and need not be exposed to the sun half an hour--had appealed to me more than any other place visited during my journeyings until Darjeeling was reached. Here in the State of Sikkim, India, 20,000 feet below the grandest mountain range in the world and built on the woody sides of a lower range, are seen rippling streams on their way to a parent river; attractively laid out tea gardens on steep inclines; a panorama of dwellings spreading out to all points of the city; deep, wooded valleys on either side, with rivers coursing these, flanked by flowering orange groves; parks, botanical gardens, and shady paths cut on the hillsides; observation points and splendid vistas; then, seen through the blue atmosphere, over low mountains, valleys, hills and trees, Jalapa La Pa.s.s--17,000 feet above sea level--the route through the Himalayan fastnesses to Lha.s.sa, Thibet; and, now seen and then unseen, as the many-shaped clouds flitted over and away, the n.o.ble galaxy of white mountains, half circular in form, to the front and to the right--Darjeeling can claim and deserves a better description.

Everything seen in the mountain city was different to the plains. The Bhutias, of decidedly Mongol cast--strong, lighter in color than the plainsmen, with rosy cheeks--were numerous, and it was good for tired sight to get away from slender, half-starved looking men, and women without eyes. Living in this section is another sect, or tribe--the Goorkhas--admired by all white men for their bravery and feared by natives. The water here was fit to drink, a luxury in India, and the air was free of the humidity of the plains; the haughty Bengali could be seen at nearly every turn, strutting about bareheaded, his hair tidily brushed; and well-groomed European military officers were galloping about the hillside roads and paths on spirited steeds.

The Bhutia woman is the "horse" or "ox" of Darjeeling. Like the Mkikuyu woman, she carries her loads in a basket, a strap fastened to each side, which loops on her forehead. Few level paths or roads are found in that section of India, but the Bhutia woman can carry two maunds (160 pounds) in weight up from tea factories miles below, and the same amount of coal, provisions, or supplies from the cities to the settlements on the mountain-sides and down to the valleys. She appeared as strong as a Zulu woman, but not so big. The country is so hilly that wagons can be drawn over it only in few sections. Bhutia men are employed at ricksha work or carrying palanquins. On account of the steepness of the surroundings, three Bhutias are required to pull and push a ricksha--one between the thills and two at the back of the vehicle. Seeing the Bhutias wearing boots was something unusual in this country. Brakemen, engineers and firemen employed on the mountain railroad do not wear shoes, and the same applies to natives engaged at the same occupation on the plains.

"Coolie, Sahib?" or "Coolie, Memsahib?" if man or woman, is the language of the Bhutia woman when seeking work. Going toward the market-place, one of these strong women, with strap about her head and basket held by the ends, will approach a person and quietly say, "Coolie, Memsahib?" "Yes," was the reply one received from a lady on her way to market. The Mongol woman followed, engaged in knitting socks. After vegetables had been bought, the Bhutia woman sidled to the dealer, turned her back, when the grocer placed the vegetables in her basket; but she kept on knitting, apparently unconscious of what was taking place. One will not look back to see if she is following when leaving a stall; but at the next vegetable stand, in another section of the market, the Bhutia woman would be standing a short distance away, still knitting. Every time articles were bought she turned her basket to the dealer, had these added to the earlier purchases, and when the marketing was finished she followed the memsahib to her home, emptied the contents in the kitchen, received four cents for her work, continuing with her knitting, as she zigzagged down a steep incline in the direction of the market district. Bhutia women are very una.s.suming in their manners. Some save money, but most of this is spent on jewelry. Discs of gold as large as the bottom of a saucer may be seen depending from the ears, and large silver or gold bangles are worn about the wrist. This weakness for display, however, often proves their downfall, as they are sometimes found dead along the mountain paths, stripped of every ornament.

Thousands of men and women are employed picking tea leaves during the season. The tea is picked from the bushes mostly during the monsoon season, as the new leaves sprout fast during rainy weather. They work in wet clothes much of the time, but the mountain natives are hardy, and pay little attention to such discomfort. Men tea-pickers receive eight cents a day and women six cents. Hut rent, garden, and medical service is free. Over 3,000 bushes grow to the acre. Sunday is a big day with these mountain natives; every one working on the tea plantations for miles around comes to town--Bhutians, Thibetans, Nepales, and other tribes--when the market-place and bazaars literally swarm with them. In the Darjeeling district are 60,000 acres of land under tea cultivation, and the output is nearly 20,000,000 pounds a year.

The Goorkha is what is known as a "hill man," and is small-built. He carries a short sword or long knife in a sheath at his side, but will not show the weapon. It is an old maxim with the Goorkha that blood must be drawn every time he unsheathes the knife. Were he a.s.signed to duty by a captain, and a colonel wished to pa.s.s, the Goorkha would not allow the superior officer to go through the lines if he had not received orders to do so by the officer who gave him his a.s.signment.

He acknowledges only one order--that of the officer who gave it, be he high or low. Where the big Sikh would run or surrender under a galling fire, the Goorkha, knowing no fear, would advance and win a battle.

His highest aim in life is to have marked after his name when dead, "Died in action." When mobs gather and a riot is threatened, if Goorkhas are a.s.signed to the scene and instructed to quell it, every one seeks cover when it is announced, "The Goorkhas are coming."

Indians well know the Goorkha order will be followed. He is the policeman of Darjeeling.

"The only supplies that reached the starving people of India during the famine were those sent from the United States," was the refres.h.i.+ng information gathered from an Englishman when touching on Indian matters. The supplies he referred to were kept from native officials and looked after by American representatives. Men get rich in India during famine years through selling relief supplies at a high figure--sent to be distributed free to the starving. Very few high-caste Indians have any feeling for the suffering of a poor or hungry native.

One eats five times a day in India. Tea or coffee is brought to the room generally before one is up; breakfast is served from nine to ten o'clock; luncheon at from one to three o'clock; tea at from five to six, and dinner from eight to nine o'clock. Band music, bioscope, and other amus.e.m.e.nts take place, but are finished before dinner. In hot countries Europeans bathe from one to three times a day.

Along the bank of a river, stream, or pond may be seen dozens of Indians doing their was.h.i.+ng, and clothes spread out on the gra.s.s to dry. They are soaped and rolled together and juggled in the hands of the "dobey," and the next stage sees the same fellow slamming them, with all his strength, against a rock. One would look a long time for a washboard in India.