Part 11 (2/2)
We ascended by a giant staircase, half a mile long, overhung by palms and tropical vegetation. We obtained a splendid view of Bombay from this eminence, which we should have enjoyed had it not been that the palms immediately around us were thick with myriads of large black vultures, gorged with corpses of the small-pox and cholera epidemic, which was then raging in Bombay. The air was so heavy with their breath that (though people say it was impossible) I felt my head affected as long as we remained there. These myriads of birds feed only on corpses, and of necessity they must breathe and exhale what they feed upon. They fattened upon what bare contact would kill us; they cl.u.s.tered in thousands. This burying-place, or garden, was full of public and private family towers. The great public tower is divided into three circles, with a well in the middle. It has an entrance and four outlets for water. First, there is a place for clothes, and a tank, like a huge metal barrel lying on its side. Here the priests, who are the operators, leave their garments. A large procession of Pa.r.s.ees, having accompanied the body as far as this spot, turn and wait outside the tower. The priests then place the body, if a man, in the first circle; if a woman, in the second circle; if a child, in the third: in the centre there is the door, well covered with a grating. The priests then stay and watch.
The vultures descend; they fly round the moment they see a procession coming, and have to be kept at bay until the right moment. The body is picked clean in an hour by these vultures. It is considered very lucky if they pick out the right eye first instead of the left, and the fact is reported by the priests to the sorrowing relatives. When the bones are perfectly clean, a Pa.r.s.ee priest pushes them into the well. When rain comes, it carries off the ashes and bones; and the water runs through these four outlets, with charcoal at the mouths to purify it, before entering and defiling the earth, which would become putrid and cause fever. The Pa.r.s.ees will not defile the earth by being buried in it, and consider it is an honour to have a _living sepulchre_. The vultures have on an average, when there is no epidemic, about three bodies a day, so that they can never be said to starve. The whole thing struck me as being revolting and disgusting in the extreme, and I was glad to descend from this melancholy height to Bombay.
We had a good deal of gaiety during our stay in Bombay, and every one was most kind. We saw many interesting people, and made many pleasant excursions which were too numerous to be mentioned in detail here. I have given a description of the Pa.r.s.ee burial-ground, and I think at the risk of being thought morbid that I must also describe our visit to the Hindu Smashan, or burning-ground, in the Sonapur quarter, where we saw a funeral, or rather a cremation. The corpse was covered with flowers, the forehead reddened with sandalwood, and the mouth blackened.
The bier was carried by several men, and one bore sacred fire in an earthenware pot. The body was then laid upon the pyre; every one walked up and put a little water in the mouth of the corpse, just as we throw dust on the coffin; they then piled more layers of wood on the body, leaving it in the middle of the pile. Then the relatives, beginning with the nearest, took burning brands to apply to the wood, and the corpse was burned. The ashes and bones are thrown into the sea. It was unpleasant, but not nearly so revolting to me as the vultures in the Pa.r.s.ee burying-ground. All the mourners were Hindu except ourselves, and they stayed and watched the corpse burning. Shortly the clothes caught fire, and then the feet. After that we saw no more except a great blaze, and smelt a smell of roasted flesh, which mingles with the sandalwood perfume of Bombay. The Smashan, or burning-ground, is dotted with these burning-places.
A very interesting visit for me was to the Pinjarpole, or hospital for animals sick, maimed, and incurable. It was in the centre of the native quarter of Bombay, and was founded forty years ago by Sir Jamsetji Jijibhoy, who also left money for its support. I was told that the animals here were neglected and starved; but we took them quite unawares, and were delighted to find the contrary the case. There were old bullocks here that had been tortured and had their tails wrung off, which is the popular way in Bombay of making them go faster. There were orphan goats and calves, starving kittens and dogs. The blind, the maimed, the wounded of the animal creation, here found a home. I confess that I admire the religion that believes in animals having a kind of soul and a future, and permits their having a refuge where at least no one can hurt them, and where they can get food and shelter.
G.o.d is too just to create things, without any fault of their own, only for slow and constant torture, for death, and utter annihilation.
Turning now to society at Bombay, and indeed Indian society generally, I must say that it is not to be outdone for hospitality. There is a certain amount of formality about precedence in all English stations, and if one could only dispense with it society would be twice as charming and attractive. I do not mean of course the formality of etiquette and good-breeding, but of all those silly little conventions and rules which arise for the most part from unimportant people trying to make themselves of importance. Of course they make a great point about what is called ”official rank” in India, and the women squabble terribly over their warrants of precedence: the gradations thereof would puzzle even the chamberlain of some petty German court. The Anglo-Indian ladies of Bombay struck me for the most part as spiritless. They had a faded, washed-out look; and I do not wonder at it, considering the life they lead. They get up about nine, breakfast and pay or receive visits, then tiffen, siesta, a drive to the Apollo Bunder, to hear the band, or to meet their husbands at the Fort, dine and bed--that is the programme of the day. The men are better because they have cricket and polo. I found n.o.body stiff individually, but society very much so in the ma.s.s.
The order of precedence seemed to be uppermost in every mind, and as an outsider I thought how tedious ”ye manners and customs of the Anglo-Indians” would be all the year round.
I found the native populace much more interesting. The great ma.s.s consists of Konkani Moslems, with dark features and scraggy beards. They were clad in chintz turbans, resembling the Pa.r.s.ee headgear, and in long cotton coats, with shoes turned up at the toes, and short drawers or pyjamas. There were also Persians, with a totally different type of face, and clothed in quite a different way, mainly in white with white turbans. There were Arabs from the Persian Gulf, sitting and lolling in the coffee-houses. There were athletic Afghans, and many other strange tribes. There were conjurers and snake-charmers, vendors of pipes and mangoes, and Hindu women in colours that pale those of Egypt and Syria.
There were two sorts of Pa.r.s.ees, one white-turbaned, and the other whose headgear was black, spotted with red. I was much struck with the immense variety of turban on the men, and the _choli_ and headgear on the women.
Some of the turbans were of the size of a moderate round tea-table.
Others fit the head tight. Some are worn straight, and some are c.o.c.ked sideways. Some are red and horned. The _choli_ is a bodice which is put on the female child, who never knows what stays are. It always supports the bosom and she is never without it day or night, unless after marriage, and whilst she is growing it is of course changed to her size from time to time. They are of all colours and shapes, according to the race. No Englishwoman could wear one, unless it were made on purpose for her; but I cannot explain why.
Bombay servants are dull and stupid. They always do the wrong thing for preference. They break everything they touch, and then burst into a ”Yah, yah, yah!” like a monkey. If you leave half a bottle of sherry, they will fill it up with hock, and say, ”Are they not both white wines, Sa'b?” If you call for your tea, the servant will bring you a saucer, and stare at you. If you ask why your tea is not ready, he will run downstairs and bring you a spoon, and so on. As he walks about barefoot you never hear him approach. You think you are alone in the room, when suddenly you are made to jump by seeing a black face close to you, star- gazing. If you have a visitor, you will see the door slowly open, and a black face protruded at least six times in a quarter of an hour. They are intensely curious, but otherwise as stolid as owls.
On April 16 we started for Mahabaleshwar, the favourite of all the sanatoria in India, save the Neilgherries, which are so far off as to be a very expensive journey from Bombay. Mahabaleshwar, in the Western Ghats, is therefore largely visited by Europeans from Bombay. We left Bombay by the 1.15 express train, reaching Poonah in seven hours. The air was like blasts out of a heated furnace. We dined at Poonah at a very comfortable inn. The distance from Poonah to Mahabaleshwar was seventy five miles by road; so as we were going on the same evening we ordered a trap, and after dinner we set forth.
I cannot say it was a comfortable journey, for the springs of the trap were broken, and projections were sticking through the hard, narrow cus.h.i.+ons in all directions into our unhappy bodies. Nevertheless we enjoyed the drive very much. It was a charming night, the moon late, being in first quarter. We saw a great Moslem _fete_ coming out of Poonah at night. The hills were illuminated in patterns and letters.
We slept when it was dark, and I remember we drank a great deal of water, for it was a most thirsty night. At 6 a.m. we pa.s.sed a wayside bungalow at Soorool, where we brought out our basket and tea, and had milk from the cow belonging to the old soldier who kept the bungalow. At the foot of the third steep mountain, Pasarni, we pa.s.sed through Wye (Wahi), one of the prettiest and most interesting places, with the prettiest women in Western India, besides being a village of temples and holy tanks.
The general effect of the temples, which were strewn about in all sizes and shapes, was that of a series of _blancmange_ moulds.
At Wahi we alighted from the trap, and our ascent up the steep Pasarni Ghat was performed for us by sixteen coolies. It occupied us about two hours, and was very hot and dusty, and cruelly hard work; but the coolies did it much better than horses could have done. Once we came to a travelling bungalow, and stopped a few minutes to tie up some of our broken springs. After this we were very tired, and the last thirteen miles seemed almost insupportable. At last we entered the verdure of Mahabaleshwar at the summit, 4,780 feet above sea-level but the inaccessibility of the place is compensated for by its interest when you arrive there, just as Palmyra is more precious than Ba'albak.
When at last we arrived we were thoroughly tired out. We dined, and went to bed. We had been out twenty-five hours, and had had no sleep for forty-one hours. I did not even remember the end of my dinner, and I have no recollection of how I got into bed for very sleepiness. We lodged at the Mahabaleshwar Hotel, which was very cheap, clean, and comfortable.
The next morning we were up at 5 a.m., and drove in a _tonga_, a sort of tea-cart, with small _tattoo_ ponies, to Elphinstone Point, and to see the temples. It was a most enjoyable excursion; but it was quite spoiled for me by the brutal way in which the driver beat the poor little ”tats” with his thick cowhide whip. It was misery to me. I got quite nervous; I bullied the driver, took his whip away, promised _baks.h.i.+sh_ if he would not do it, and finally tried to drive myself.
Then the foolish ponies stood stock-still directly I took the reins, and would not budge without the whip. At this point Richard cut in, and swore at the driver for being so cruel, and scolded me for spoiling an excursion by my ridiculous sensibilities. Then my fox- terrier put in her oar, and tried to bite the coachman for beating the ponies; and not being allowed, she laid her head on my shoulder and went into hysterics--the tears actually ran down her cheeks. We had a grand view from Elphinstone Point, and the temples also were interesting. We were glad to get back again at 9 a.m., for the sun was very trying. We made several pleasant excursions during our stay, and people were very kind. All the same, I did not greatly care for Mahabaleshwar. There was too much society; one could not ruralize enough. ”Sets” are the rule, and priggishness is rampant, even in the primeval forest. Our visit was a brief one, and then we returned to Bombay.
After two days at Bombay Richard and I set sail in the British Indian Steams.h.i.+p Company's _Rajpootna_ for distant and deserted Goa, a thirty- six hours' pa.s.sage. It was a calm, fine evening when we started, but intensely hot. The next day there was a heavy swell, and many were ill. I went to bed thoroughly tired out, expecting to land the next morning. About five o'clock, as the captain told me overnight not to hurry myself, I got up leisurely. Presently a black steward came down, and said:
”Please, ma'am, the agent's here with your boat to convey you ash.o.r.e.
The captain desired me to say that he's going to steam on directly.”
I was just at the stage of my toilet which rendered it impossible for me to open the door or come out, so I called through the keyhole:
”Please go with my compliments to the captain, and beg him to give me ten minutes or a quarter of an hour, and tell my husband what is the matter.”
”I will go, ma'am,” he answered; ”but I am afraid the captain can't wait.
It is his duty to go on.”
”Go!” I shouted; and he went.
In two minutes down came the negro again.
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