Our Little Hindu Cousin Part 2

"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.

[Ill.u.s.tration: 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 fas.h.i.+on.

"'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 sh.e.l.ls, threaded on a string, which he took from the wallet he carried in his dress. These _cowrie_ sh.e.l.ls are used for small pieces of money and are carried on strings. As you may imagine, each sh.e.l.l 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 b.u.t.ter.

Just as they were finis.h.i.+ng 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.

"Hus.h.!.+ 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.

CHAPTER III

THE CHILDREN'S HOLIDAY

"CHOLA, art thou there?" said little Nao the next morning, peeping in between the mats of the veranda. Nao lived in a pretty pink house next to Chola's, and their gardens joined; so he and the two cousins were great playmates.

"Yes, but I'm busy," said Chola, without looking around. The barber had come to shave his father, and Chola had begged to be allowed to hold for his father the little looking-gla.s.s which the barber had brought with him, as he reclined on a rug while the barber shaved him. The barber made his rounds from house to house each day, carrying the tools of his trade with him; and he not only shaved his patrons' faces, but their heads as well.

"I only wanted to tell thee that there is a man just outside the gate with a basket," replied Nao, in a tantalizing way; "but if thou _must_ help the barber--"

"There are plenty of men in the street with baskets," returned Chola; but he was beginning to be interested.

"But this man carries a flute," answered his little friend, smiling.

"Oh, it is the snake-charmer!" cried Chola, jumping up.

"I see thou art tired of playing barber. Give me the mirror, and thou mayst run away," said his father.

Out in the street the boys found the man dressed all in bright pink, with a basket on his arm. He had seated himself down in the shade of a tree, and a crowd of children had gathered around him.

Presently he began to whistle on a little pipe or flute. "Look,"

whispered Nao, as a snake's head pushed up the lid of the basket and crept slowly out. Then another and another followed, until several snakes were crawling and wriggling around in the dust, all keeping time to the music of the flute. Soon the snakes began to climb and crawl all over the man, winding themselves around his neck and arms to the great delight of the children. Finally one of the snakes wound itself around the man's neck; and one around each arm; after which the man piped them back into their basket.

Then he spread the handkerchief on the ground, which was a sign for the children to pay for the show. This was enough to send most of the children flying away; for, though they had enjoyed the performance, many of them were not willing to pay for it. Both Chola and Nao, however, threw some _cowrie_ sh.e.l.ls on the handkerchief before they left.

"May good luck attend thee, my little masters," said the snake-charmer with a deep _salaam_. Then he picked up his basket again and went piping down the street to find another audience.

"Thou hast on thy yellow dress. Hast thou been to the temple?" asked Nao, as he and Chola came back into the garden.

"No, I wait for Mahala. Where can he be?" said Chola, running back into the courtyard.

Mahala was there, busily was.h.i.+ng out the inkstand which he always carried to school, while Shriya hung out of one of the _zenana_ windows talking to him.

"I cleaned my inkstand yesterday, oh, tardy one!" exclaimed Chola.

"Mine, too, is ready," said Mahala, giving it a final polish as he spoke. "Now we will be off."

To-day was the great holiday for the children. It was the festival of Sarasvati, the Hindu G.o.ddess of Learning, who is supposed to be the especial guardian of children.

The boys were going to the temple to lay their inkstands before the queer image of the G.o.ddess of Learning, as was the custom on this holiday festival.

"Thou art not keeping the holiday," called out Nao, looking up at Shriya.

"No, indeed," answered the little girl, shaking her head. "I do not want to be a widow some day; and the grandmother says this is what would happen if I should read books and learn to write while I'm little."

The boys laughed; and then ran out to join the crowd of little boys, who were making their way toward the temples, all dressed in bright yellow in honour of the day, some carrying their inkstands stuck in their belts, others swinging them in their hands.

"What shall we do to amuse ourselves?" asked Mahala, after they had dutifully laid their inkstands before the queer image of Sarasvati.