Besides, it seemed quite
ridiculous to think that the ruins, amongst which we had wandered
several hours without meeting anything more dangerous than a snake,
swarmed with wild animals. So we smiled and returned thanks, but
would not accept the invitation.
"But you positively must not dare to stay here," insisted the fat
Patel. "In case of accident, I shall be responsible for you to
the Government. Is it possible you do not dread a sleepless night
spent in fighting jackals, if not something worse? You do not
believe that you are surrounded with wild animals..... It is true
they are invisible until sunset, but nevertheless they are dangerous.
If you do not believe us, believe the instinct of your elephants,
who are as brave as you, but a little more reasonable. Just look
at them!"
We looked. Truly, our grave, philosophic-looking elephants behaved
very strangely at this moment. Their lifted trunks looked like
huge points of interrogation. They snorted and stamped restively.
In another minute one of them tore the thick rope, with which he
was tied to a broken pillar, made a sudden volte-face with all
his heavy body, and stood against the wind, sniffing the air.
Evidently he perceived some dangerous animal in the neighborhood.
The colonel stared at him through his spectacles and whistled
very meaningly.
"Well, well," remarked he, "what shall we do if tigers really
assault us?"
"What shall we do indeed?" was my thought. "Takur Gulab-Lal-Sing
is not here to protect us."
Our Hindu companions sat on the carpet after their oriental fashion,
quietly chewing betel. On being asked their opinion, they said
they would not interfere with our decision, and were ready to do
exactly as we liked. But as for the European portion of our party,
there was no use concealing the fact that we were frightened, and
we speedily prepared to start. Five minutes later we mounted the
elephants, and, in a quarter of an hour, just when the sun disappeared
behind the mountain and heavy darkness instantaneously fell, we
passed the gate of Akbar and descended into the valley.
We were hardly a quarter of a mile from our abandoned camping place
when the cypress grove resounded with shrieking howls of jackals,
followed by a well-known mighty roar. There was no longer any
possibility of doubting. The tigers were disappointed at our escape.
Their discontentment shook the very air, and cold perspiration
stood on our brows. Our elephant sprang forward, upsetting the
order of our procession and threatening to crush the horses and
their riders before us. We ourselves, however, were out of danger.
We sat in a strong howdah, locked as in a dungeon.
"It is useless to deny that we have had a narrow escape!" remarked
the colonel, looking out of the window at some twenty servants of
the Patel, who were busily lighting torches.
Brahmanic Hospitalities
In an hour's time we stopped at the gate of a large bungalow, and
were welcomed by the beaming face of our bareheaded Bengali. When
we were all safely gathered on the verandah, he explained to us that,
knowing beforehand that our "American pigheadedness" would not listen
to any warning, he had dodged up this little scheme of his own and
was very glad he had been successful.
"Now let us go and wash our hands, and then to supper. And," he
added, addressing me, "was it not your wish to be present at a
real Hindu meal? This is your opportunity. Our host is a Brahman,
and you are the first Europeans who ever entered the part of his
house inhabited by the family."
- - - - - - -
Who amongst Europeans ever dreamed of a country where every step,
and the least action of everyday life, especially of the family life,
is controlled by religious rites and cannot be performed except
according to a certain programme? India is this country. In India
all the important incidents of a man's life, such as birth, reaching
certain periods of a child's life, marriage, fatherhood, old age
and death, as well as all the physical and physiological functions
of everyday routine, like morning ablutions, dressing, eating, et
tout ce qui s'en suit, from a man's first hour to his last sigh,
everything must be performed according to a certain Brahmanical
ritual, on penalty of expulsion from his caste. The Brahmans may
be compared to the musicians of an orchestra in which the different
musical instruments are the numerous sects of their country. They
are all of a different shape and of a different timbre; but still
every one of them obeys the same leader of the band. However widely
the sects may differ in the interpretation of their sacred books,
however hostile they may be to each other, striving to put forward
their particular deity, every one of them, obeying blindly the
ancient custom, must follow like musicians the same directing wand,
the laws of Manu. This is the point where they all meet and form
a unanimous, single-minded community, a strongly united mass. And
woe to the one who breaks the symphony by a single discordant note!
The elders and the caste or sub-caste councils (of these there are
any number), whose members hold office for life, are stern rulers.
There is no appeal against their decisions, and this is why expulsion
from the caste is a calamity, entailing truly formidable consequences.
The excommunicated member is worse off than a leper, the solidarity
of the castes in this respect being something phenomenal. The only
thing that can bear any comparison with it is the solidarity of the
disciples of Loyola. If members of two different castes, united by
the sincerest feelings of respect and friendship, may not intermarry,
may not dine together, are forbidden to accept a glass of water
from each other, or to offer each other a hookah, it becomes clear
how much more severe all these restrictions must be in the case
of an excommunicated person.
