The bustees, or native villages, are a collection of mud huts, cramped together on the damp earth, devoid of ventilation and drainage. They are often built round a tank or pond, which serves as a deposit for their filth and refuse, the water being used at the same time for cooking and washing purposes. During the rains the natives suffer much, their mud huts, without foundations, settling about them, and the miasmic vapours of the over-populated village causing a yearly epidemic of cholera. The baboos, or wealthier class, live in two-storied houses, built so as to form a hollow square, the upper story being alone used for the living-rooms, and the lower one as a stable for goats and bullocks.
The Indian city, if possible, generally lies along a riverbank, and then the bathing-ghât forms a great feature to the native quarter. Men and women bathe daily, and some of the most picturesque and typical scenes of Indian life are to be seen in the early morning at these ghâts.
But to return to the Burra Bazaar. All this and a great deal more we saw, and the entire novelty added to our zest of the enjoyment of the gay surroundings. One sad little scene was taking place in a quiet corner. Under a rude canopy stood the coffin of a child, covered with a pink pall, while some women were busy laying flowers about it, and hanging up tawdry bits of decoration.
The Maharajah of Tajore's palace is in the midst of this native quarter. We were led through whitewashed passages, where numberless attendants were lounging about, through a balcony into a magnificent drawing-room, but which was swathed even to the chandeliers in brown holland. We thought it a typical exemplification of Eastern life, magnificence with meanness, luxury with squalor and dirt.
The maharajah appeared in morning dress, consisting of a loose drab Cashmere shawl covering him from head to foot. He is a man of about forty-five, speaks perfect English, expressing himself with great ease and fluency, and he takes the most enlightened views on the subject of English administration. The conversation lasted for upward of two hours, for my husband is most anxious during our visit to India to hear as much as possible of the native views on Indian affairs. The maharajah is trustee of the vernacular newspaper called the Hindu Patriot, whose editor C. went to see in British India Street, which may be called the Fleet Street of Calcutta—so many members of the press are there established here.
In the Maidan centres all the attractions of Calcutta. This broad plain is truly called "the lung of Calcutta," and is bordered on one side by Chowringee Road and a succession of fine palaces, and on the other by the Strand Road, the Esplanade and the Hooghley, with its sea of masts and rigging. In the centre of the Maidan stands Fort William. The High Court and Government House looks over its broad expanse. Here, too, are the Eden Gardens, and that collection of statues increased with each outgoing viceroy. The inscriptions on some of them are very fine, and full of patriotic enthusiasm. That on the equestrian statue of Lord Mayo is grand:—"To the honoured and beloved memory of the Earl of Mayo, Humane, Courteous, Resolute, and Enlightened, struck down in the Midst of a Patriotic and Beneficent Career on the 18th of February, 1872, by the treacherous hand of an Assassin. The People of India, mourning and indignant, raise this Statue." So also is that to Sir James Outram, where they say:—"His Life was given to India; in early Manhood he reclaimed wild Races by winning their hearts; Ghazni, Khelat, the Indian Caucasus, witnessed the daring deeds of his prime; Persia brought to sue for peace; Lucknow relieved, defended, and recovered, were fields of his later glories. Faithful servant of England, large-minded and kindly ruler of her subjects; in all the True Knight; 'The Bayard of the East.'"
It is towards five o'clock in the afternoon, when the miasmic mist that rises daily at this hour, and only lifts the following morning at nine o'clock, that the Maidan is seen to perfection.
Then appear those magnificent equipages, the lumbering barouche, with the pair of "Walers" (so called because they are horses imported from New South Wales), with their attendant "syces." These native servants in their long coats, girded with a sash of cords, and flat-brimmed hats, are dressed in all kinds of fanciful liveries. Free play is given to pretty combinations of colour, such as brown with old gold, purple with scarlet, green and orange, blue and silver, black and white. The number of these syces walking beside the horses, or standing up behind the carriage, flourishing fly-wisps, gives an idea of Oriental magnificence.
The Eden Garden; so called after the sisters of Lord Auckland, who caused them to be made, are the rendezvous at that hour for all the children of Calcutta, and you see these pampered little darlings, dressed up in plush and satins, arriving in their own carriages, in charge of their ayahs, with one, or even sometimes two, men-servants in attendance, ready to play at ball or cricket with them.