First, the stout Patel,
our host, was the head of his caste, and so was beyond the dread
of excommunication; secondly, he had already taken all the
prescribed and advisable precautions against being polluted by
our presence.
He was a free-thinker in his own way, and a friend
of Gulab-Lal-Sing, and so he rejoiced at the idea of showing us
how much skillful sophistry and strategical circumspection can be
used by adroit Brahmans to avoid the law in some circumstances,
while adhering at the same time to its dead letter. Besides, our
good-natured, well-favored host evidently desired to obtain a
diploma from our Society, being well aware that the collector of
his district was enrolled amongst our members.
These, at any rate, were the explanations of our Babu when we
expressed our astonishment; so it was our concern to make the
most of our chance, and to thank Providence for this rare
opportunity. And this we accordingly did.
- - - - - -
Hindus take their food only twice a day, at ten o'clock in the
morning and at nine in the evening. Both meals are accompanied
by complicated rites and ceremonies. Even very young children
are not allowed to eat at odd times, eating without the prescribed
performance of certain exorcisms being considered a sin. Thousands
of educated Hindus have long ceased to believe in all these
superstitious customs, but, nevertheless, they are daily practised.
Sham Rao Bahunathji, our host, belonged to the ancient caste of
Patarah Prabhus, and was very proud of his origin. Prabhu means
lord, and this caste descends from the Kshatriyas. The first of
them was Ashvapati (700 B.C.), a lineal descendant of Rama and
Prithu, who, as is stated in the local chronology, governed India
in the Dvapara and Treta Yugas, which is a good while ago! The
Patarah Prabhus are the only caste within which Brahmans have to
perform certain purely Vedic rites, known under the name of the
"Kshatriya rites." But this does not prevent their being Patans,
instead of Patars, Patan meaning the fallen one. This is the fault
of King Ashvapati. Once, when distributing gifts to holy anchorites,
he inadvertently forgot to give his due to the great Bhrigu. The
offended prophet and seer declared to him that his reign was drawing
near its end, and that all his posterity would perish. The king,
throwing himself on the ground, implored the prophet's pardon. But
his curse had worked its fulfilment already. All that he could do
to stop the mischief consisted in a solemn promise not to let the
king's descendants disappear completely from the earth. However,
the Patars soon lost their throne and their power. Since then they
have had to "live by their pens," in the employment of many successive
governments, to exchange their name of Patars for Patans, and to
lead a humbler life than many of their late subjects. Happily for
our talkative Amphitryon, his forefathers became Brahmans, that
is to say "went through the golden cow."
The expression "to live by their pens" alludes, as we learned later
on, to the fact of the Patans occupying all the small Government
posts in the Bombay Presidency, and so being dangerous rivals of
the Bengali Babus since the time of British rule. In Bombay the
Patan clerks reach the considerable figure of five thousand. Their
complexion is darker than the complexion of Konkan Brahmans, but
they are handsomer and brighter. As to the mysterious expression,
"went through the golden cow," it illustrates a very curious custom.
The Kshatriyas, and even the much-despised Shudras, may become a
sort of left-hand Brahmans. This metamorphosis depends on the
will of the real Brahmans, who may, if they like, sell this right
for several hundreds or thousands of cows. When the gift is
accomplished, a model cow, made of pure gold, is erected and made
sacred by the performance of some mystical ceremonies. The candidate
must now crawl through her hollow body three times, and thus is
transformed into a Brahman. The present Maharaja of Travankor,
and even the great Raja of Benares, who died recently, were both
Shudras who acquired their rights in this manner. We received all
this information and a notion of the legendary Patar chronicle from
our obliging host.
Having announced that we must now get ready for dinner, he
disappeared in the company of all the gentlemen of our party.
Being left to ourselves, Miss X - - and I decided to have a good
look at the house whilst it was empty. The Babu, being a downright,
modern Bengali, had no respect for the religious preparations for
dinner, and chose to accompany us, proposing to explain to us all
that we should otherwise fail to understand.
The Prabhu brothers always live together, but every married couple
have separate rooms and servants of their own. The habitation of
our host was very spacious. There were small several bungalows,
occupied by his brothers, and a chief building containing rooms
for visitors, the general dining-room, a lying-in ward, a small
chapel with any number of idols, and so on. The ground floor, of
course, was surrounded by a verandah pierced with arches leading
to a huge hall. All round this hall were wooden pillars adorned
with exquisite carving. For some reason or other, it struck me
that these pillars once belonged to some palace of the "dead town."
On close examination I only grew more convinced that I was right.
Their style bore no traces of Hindu taste; no gods, no fabulous
monster animals, only arabesques and elegant leaves and flowers
of nonexistent plants. The pillars stood very close to each other,
but the carvings prevented them from forming an uninterrupted wall,
so that the ventilation was a little too strong. All the time we
spent at the dinner table miniature hurricanes whistled from behind
every pillar, waking up all our old rheumatisms and toothaches,
which had peacefully slumbered since our arrival in India.
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