India and the Indians

by Edward Fenton Elwin

"Are you a Catholic?" I asked.

"I know all about the Catholic," was the reply, "I was taught in Catholic school; I know all Catholic teaching."

"But you are not a Catholic yourself."

"No, I am a Mohammedan; but I like Catholic."

Some of the others then chimed in and began to urge their usual objections concerning the Virgin birth, and the Holy Trinity. I was interested in hearing what they had to say, because we do not often meet Mohammedans in the Poona district. I thought that possibly the assertion that their conception of heaven is so degraded might have been exaggerated, so that I was glad of an opportunity to learn from the lips of intelligent representatives of their religion what their views really are. They affirmed that everything that there is on earth will be in heaven, including all that concerns marriage. In order to get at the bottom of the matter, I asked whether, as the result of this, children would be born in heaven. They replied that nothing had been revealed concerning that, but that probably children would not be born. They were, therefore, only anticipating sensual gratification.

I told them the story of the seven brethren with the one wife, and that Christ, whom they accepted as a true Prophet, said that they neither marry nor are given in marriage in heaven. They answered that, in spite of that, it was quite certain that there would be marriage in heaven. It is hardly to be wondered at if, amongst nations specially prone to sensuality, a religion spreads which allows four wives in the present, and holds out such prospects for the future.

Yet there is something winning and attractive about many of these men with their gentle courteous manners. Passengers coming on board, there was prospect of business, so saying that they hoped that nothing that they had said would have caused me any offence, they shook hands and hurried off, and were soon deeply absorbed in the industry of trying to see how much they could persuade the globe-trotter to give for their wares. But their trade is not so good as it was some years back. The traveller is more wide-awake, and his inclination now is to err on the side of paying too little. Some shipping lines have also forbidden traders to board the ships, because it gave an opportunity for thieves to get on board under the guise of traders, and a good many things had been stolen from passengers in this way.

Landing in Bombay from the same ship, an Australian lady said to me, as the passengers were waiting on the Bunder while the luggage was passing through the Customs, "What is this strange smell?" "It is only the smell of India," I replied. "Then I don't like it," she said very decidedly. There is in India a peculiar stale smell which you seldom get entirely away from, unless on some lofty hills far removed from the haunts of men. It is the smell of an undrained country, where the habits of the people transgress the most elementary sanitary rules, so that even out in country districts, if there are human habitations in the neighbourhood, the air is tainted.

Whereas it is the English custom to receive a new-comer into office with great ceremony, the Indian reserves his enthusiasm for the time of departure. The new viceroy is welcomed with much state ceremonial, but he departs in comparatively homely fashion. If the arrangements were in the hands of Indians, it is the outgoing viceroy who would receive the chief honours. After all, this may be the right way. The new-comer has not yet been tried, whereas if he has done his duty during his time of office, it is at the point of his departure that display of gratitude is becoming. If the head of a mission has to go to England on furlough, the residents at the mission-station will probably give him a tremendous send-off, even if he is not particularly popular. But when he returns, the Indians who saw him off so enthusiastically will receive him back with gracious smiles and kindly greeting, and half a dozen special friends may call and garland him, but there will be no general demonstration, unless there are some English people on the spot to suggest it as being the proper thing to do.

Mistakes made in the effort to speak a difficult Eastern language are inevitable. But the new-comer is not aware of certain subtle dangers which exist, quite apart from mispronunciation, or wrong tenses and genders, or words misapplied. To use the singular number instead of the plural in speaking to an Indian, except of the lowest rank, is considered by him as an act of great rudeness. In speaking to children the singular number is always used, and very intimate friends use it in speaking to each other. High-caste Hindus use it in speaking to low-caste people, in order to emphasise their own superior position. Missionaries generally begin to exercise their conversational powers in the vernacular by trying to say a few words to the boys of the mission. And as their efforts are generally welcomed by the boys in a kindly and encouraging spirit, the missionary waxes bold and begins to converse with the elder members of his flock, or even with dignified outsiders, with sometimes unfortunate results, because he uses unblushingly, but unknowingly, the singular number which he grew familiar with in his conversations with the boys.