THE GARDENS OF THE RESIDENCY AT MANIPUR.
I rode alone all over the country, fearing nothing from the inhabitants, who knew me, and would have been only too ready to help me had I needed aid; and I have been left for days together quite alone at the Residency while my husband had to be out in camp. Once he had to go down to Tammu in Burmah, five days’ journey from Manipur, and I was too ill to go with him, so stayed behind.
For sixteen days I was there all alone. We had no neighbours nearer than a hundred miles off, and I never even heard English spoken until my husband returned. The old ayah used to sleep on my doormat at night, and I always had sentries outside the house, back and front. I used to hear, or imagine I heard, all kinds of noises sometimes, and get up, waking the old woman from her noisy slumbers to come and do a midnight parade all round the house, searching in every nook and corner for the disturber of my rest, which was probably nothing more harmful than an antiquated bat roaming about in the roof, or a rat in the cellars beneath the house. The poor old ayah used to pretend to be very valiant on these occasions and carefully hunt in every dark corner which I had already turned out; but she was always glad to get back when the search was ended to her own venerable blanket, in which she used to roll her attenuated form, and snore away the long vigils of the nights.
Poor old Moonia! she was a faithful old soul, and has tramped many a mile after me in my wanderings backwards and forwards. She was a lazy old woman, but if I told her so, she gave me warning on the spot. She did this very frequently—on an average, six times a month; but after a little I got accustomed to it—in fact, I may say I got rather to like it—and I never by any chance reminded her of her promised flitting, or took any notice of the warning when she gave it to me. She was a very quarrelsome old creature, and had some very bitter enemies. First and above all she detested the head bearer. She hated him with a deep and deadly hatred, and if she could do him a bad turn she would do it, even though it caused her much fatigue, bodily and mental, to accomplish it. Next to the bearer she disliked the wife of one of the Chupprassies. This female was a powerfully-built Naga woman, with a very good opinion of herself; and she returned the ayah’s dislike most fully. They were always at war, and on one occasion they had a stand-up fight. We had gone out into camp, and as Moonia (the ayah) had not been well, I left her at home instead of taking her with me, as I generally did. Two days after we had started, a report reached us that she had had a terrible fight with the Chupprassie’s wife, and the latter had injured her very seriously. We heard nothing more about it at that time, so I imagined that the ayah’s wounds were healing, and that I should not be informed as to details at all. Not so, however. We returned to the Residency a fortnight later, and I sent for my abigail as usual, receiving in return a message saying that she could not come, as she was still dangerously ill. Having, however, insisted on her appearing, she came—very slowly, and with her head so enveloped in coverings that I could not see even the tip of her nose. Groans issued forth at intervals, and she subsided on to the floor directly she entered the room. After a little parleying, I persuaded her to undo her various blankets, and show me the extent of her injuries. They were not serious, and the only real wound was one on the top of her head, which certainly was rather a deep cut. However, I soon impressed upon her that I did not think she was as near death’s door as she evidently imagined, and let her return to her own apartments, vowing vengeance on her adversary.
Moonia presented a petition soon afterwards, and my husband had to try the case, which he proceeded to do in the veranda of the Residency. The evidence was very conflicting. All the complainant’s witnesses bore testimony against her, and vice-versâ; and the language of the principal parties concerned was very voluble and abusive. The ayah made a great sensation, however, by producing the log of wood she had been beaten with, covered with hair and blood, and the clothes she had worn at the time, in a similar gory condition. The hair in the stick was very cleverly arranged. Where it had originally come from was not easy to define; but it was stuck in bunches the whole length of the stick, and must have been a work of time and ingenuity. However, there were many exclamations of commiseration for the complainant, and eventually the defendant was fined one rupee, and bound over to keep the peace.
Then ensued a funny scene. The ayah argued that the fine imposed was not heavy enough, and the adversary threatened her with more violence as soon as she should leave the presence of the Sahib; and they swore gaily at each other, as only two native women know how to swear, and had to be conveyed from the court in different directions by a small guard of the 43rd Ghoorkas, who were mightily amused at the whole business. I thought at the time that should the Chupprassie’s wife ever get an opportunity of wreaking vengeance on the ayah, she was just the sort of woman to make that revenge a deep one; and I pitied the ayah if she ever fell into her hands. The day did come before very long; but of that I shall speak later on.
Our Chupprassies were very useful, but very lazy, and puffed up with pride in their own loveliness. Their red coats with the ‘V.R.’ buttons, covered with gold braid, lent them much dignity; and there were many little offices which they absolutely refused to perform because they wore the Queen’s livery, and considered themselves too important. For instance, I requested four of them once to go into the garden and catch grasshoppers out of the long grass with which to feed a cage full of little birds. One of the four alone condescended to go; the rest solemnly refused, saying that they could not demean themselves by such a performance, and that I must get the Naga boys out of the village to do it for them. And I had to give in to them ignominiously.
These ten Chupprassies were all supposed to be interpreters of some kind or another; but for the most part they could speak no other dialect but their own, whatever that happened to be, and had no idea of translating it into any other tongue.
Altogether, they were decidedly more ornamental than useful. Two of them rode extremely well, and they acted as my jockeys in some pony-races which the Senaputti got up one Christmas Day, amongst other sports, for the amusement of our Sepoys and his own.
The Senaputti had got the idea of this Gymkhana from having seen the 44th Ghoorka sports on one occasion at Langthabal, when that regiment was stationed there, and besides the ordinary races and competitions the Manipuris had some which I have never seen anywhere else. One feat they performed was to lay a man on the top of six bayonets. The bayonets were fixed to the rifles, and the latter were then driven into the ground like stakes with the points upwards. A man then lay down flat on the ground and made himself as stiff as possible, when he was lifted up by four other men, and laid along the tops of the bayonets. Had he moved they must have gone into him, and we never knew how the performance was managed, or whether they fixed anything on the points of the bayonets to prevent their piercing his flesh; but it did not look a nice trick at all, and one always dreaded an accident. There was wrestling, too, in which the princes took part, and foot races, and the Senaputti gave the prizes, mostly in money. And to wind up there was a play. The Maharajah had three jesters, exactly like the old English fashion of having court-jesters to amuse royalty.