PARSEE WOMAN.
A little farther on, in a balcony, is a group of girls, with henna-black eyes, somewhat daintily got up, and on the look-out for visitors. Now a covey of Parsee women and children comes by, brilliant in their large silk wraps (for even the poorer Parsee females make a point of wearing these)—pale-green, or salmon color, or blue—drawn over their heads and depending even to their feet—their large dark eyes shining with fire and intelligence, not the timid glance of the general run of Indian women. Many of the Parsee fair ones, indeed—especially of the well-to-do classes—are exceedingly handsome. But the women generally in Bombay form quite a feature; for the Mahrattas, who constitute the bulk of the population, do not shut up their women, anymore than the Parsees do, and numbers of these—mostly of course, though not exclusively, of the poorer classes—may be seen moving quite freely about the streets: the Mahratta fisher-women for instance, dressed not in the long depending cloak of the Parsees, but in the ordinary Indian sari, which they wind gracefully about the body, leaving their legs bare from the knees down. Of the Parsees I understand that they are very helpful to each other as a community, and while leaving their women considerable freedom are at pains to prevent any of them falling through poverty into a life of prostitution.
If you take this general description of the native Bombay, and add to it a handsome modern city, with fine Banks, Post and Government offices, esplanades, parks, docks, markets, railway stations, etc.; and then again add to that a manufacturing quarter with scores of chimneys belching out smoke, ugly stretches of waste land, and all the dirt of a Sheffield or Birmingham (only with coco-palms instead of oak-trees shriveling in the blight); then distribute through it all a population, mainly colored, but of every nation in the world, from sheerly naked water-carriers and coolies to discreet long-raimented Parsees and English “gentlemen and ladies”—you will have an idea of Bombay—the most remarkable city certainly that I have visited in this part of the world.
The Parsee nose is much in evidence here. You meet it coming round the corner of the street long before its owner appears. It is not quite the same as the Jewish, but I find it difficult to define the difference; perhaps though larger it is a little suaver in outline—more suaviter in modo, though not less fortiter in re. It is followed by a pair of eyes well on the alert, which don’t miss anything that the nose points out. At every turn you meet that same shrewd old gentleman with the beautifully white under-raiment falling to his feet, and a long China silk coat on, and black brimless hat—so collected and “all there”; age dims not the lustre of his eye to biz. Somehow he strangely reminds one of the neighborhood of the London Stock Exchange, only it is a face of more general ability than you often see in the City.
PARSEE MERCHANTS.
And (what also is more than can be said for his city confrère) he is up early in the morning for his religious exercises. At sunrise you may see him on the esplanades, maidans, and other open places, saying his prayers with his face turned towards the east. He repeats or reads in an undertone long passages, and then bows three times towards the light; then sometimes turning round will seem to go through a similar ceremony with his back to it. The peculiarity of the physiognomy (not forgetting the nose of course) seems to lie in the depth of the eye. This together with the long backward line of the eyelid gives a remarkable look of intelligence and earnestness to the finer faces.
The younger Parsee is also very much to the fore—a smartish fellow not without some Brummagem self-confidence—pushing in business and in his efforts to join in the social life of the English; who in revenge are liable to revile him as the ‘Arry of the East. Anyhow they are a go-ahead people, these Cursetjees, Cowasjees, Pestonjees, and Jejeebhoys, and run most of the cotton mills here (though one would think that they might manage to get on without quite so many “jees”). Justice Telang spoke to me highly one day of them as a body—their helpful brotherly spirit and good capacity and versatility. He said however that they were not taking the lead in business quite so much as formerly, but turning rather more to political life.
Telang himself is a Mahratta—a sturdy well-fleshed man, of energy and gentleness combined—able, sound, and sensible, I should say, with good judgment and no humbug. He of course thinks the creation of a united India a long and difficult affair: but does not seem to despair of its possibility; acknowledges that the Mahomedan element is mostly indifferent or unfriendly to the idea, but the Parsees are favorable.
I was in Telang’s court one day, and admired much the way he conducted the business. On the whole I thought the English barristers present showed up only feebly against the native judge and pleaders. I certainly am inclined to think the educated oysters quite equal or if anything superior to the Englishman in matters of pure intellect (law, mathematics, etc.); where they are wanting—taking the matter quite in bulk, and with many individual exceptions—is in that quality which is expressed by the word morale; and it is that defect which prevents them being able to make the best use of their brain power, or to hold their own against us in the long run. So important is that quality. The Anglo-Saxons, with deficient brains, have it in a high degree, and are masters of the world.