CHAPTER II
OMAN THE CHILD
It was thus that the child of the head-man and high priest of Bul-Ruknu entered the world and found his place there. But his subsequent baby days did not bear out the dreary omens of the first. The whole town, and a throng of farmers from the rice-fields to the north, were present at the ceremony of the public christening of the child, who was named Oman, and was thenceforward regarded by the village as their prospective head and ruler. As such he became at once an important little person, both in the community and in his father’s house.
Having been born a Brahman, Oman’s first year was punctuated with ceremonies prescribed for every minutest change in his little existence. In his sixth month, at the first feeding with solid food, upon which the character of his future career was supposed to depend, he was given, not rice, to bring him splendor; nor beef, to bring him power; nor fish, to bring him swiftness; nor goat’s flesh, for a fine physique; but a bit of white partridge breast, which is said to confer upon a child the gift of mental purity. And from this time on, every step in his education was for the purpose of making him a worthy successor to his ascetic father. From his earliest babyhood he was trained in rigorous ways of propriety and grave conduct. Much speech, inarticulate or otherwise, was not sanctioned in Gokarna’s presence; nor did the father sympathetically regard the manufacture of mud-pies, or even the jingling of Kota’s ankle-bells and bracelets. The delights of babyhood were indulged in secret, at times when Kota’s warm-hearted motherhood overcame the unceasing dread of her husband; and she and the baby found amusements that delighted them equally.
During the first three years of his life, Oman certainly gave no evidence of unusual characteristics. When he was two, and his mother nineteen, a girl was born into the family of the high priest, which fact, however, in no way diminished Oman’s importance. He was now at a delightful age; and even Gokarna sometimes fell from dignity and allowed his son to drag himself to his feet by aid of the paternal leg, and then, by means of the same member, permitted himself to be urged out to witness the antics of some badgered kitten, or peep into the first home of half a dozen tumbling puppies; which creatures the child never molested, but would watch by the hour with solemn delight.
In his third year, little Oman underwent the ceremony of the Kudakarman, or tonsure, by which his rough and tumbly black hair was clipped close to his head, and thenceforth kept so:—a very comfortable bit of religion, considering the climate of Bul-Ruknu. This concluded the ceremonies of babyhood, and was the last he should have to undergo till the day of the great initiation, or second birth, when he would become a true Brahman, a student of the Vedas.
This period, from his third to his eighth year, was the happiest and freest of his life. He was now emancipated from the close supervision of his mother, and allowed to go forth alone to explore the wonders and the glories of the town. All the simple and unfathomable joys of childhood were there, awaiting his pleasure. First of all were the children; for Bul-Ruknu swarmed with them; and, boy and girl, Brahman or Sudra, they were turned out to live in the streets till it came time for them to take up the duties of life:—the boys, from seven to twelve, to begin their Vedic studies or their slavery; the girls, from ten to fourteen, to marry. Little Oman, so far brought up to the most rigid solitude, now entered the world, and found hordes of his own kind awaiting him. Forthwith he offered himself to them. They accepted him readily into their numbers, and let him find his own place there. They ranked him nowhere, for their spirit was entirely democratic. They were the only species of Indian humanity that did not, openly or secretly, recognize caste. With them, it was not a Brahman who must lead, but the boy who could fight best; it was not the girl of wealthiest parents that was most popular, but she that had greatest talent for making dolls out of straw and rags.
Among his kind Oman did not make astonishing progress. He proved gentle and quiet, and made friends, in a mute sort of way, with those of his own age or a little younger. He never attempted leadership. As a matter of fact, such an idea did not occur to him. But he was thoroughly intolerant of any sort of ruling. The boy that tried to command his occupations, he regarded with astonished disapproval, immediately renouncing the acquaintance of the would-be general. He never fought,—had, indeed, been known to run away from the scene of a struggle, and hide himself till it was over. Yet his spirit was not generally considered cowardly. The result of this course was that, gradually, Oman gathered around him a handful of little folk like himself, among whom he always felt at liberty to do what he liked. They were an odd little band. Among them were no concerted plans of action, no organized raids, hardly even general games. Each child, occupied with some pursuit of his or her own, would simply carry it on in the proximity of others, because the feeling of companionship was pleasant. Oman, indeed, after the first novelty of it had worn off, did not always remain with his fellows. There were many things that he found it eminently pleasant to do alone. For him the town held ever fresh delights. He knew every donkey that came to the weekly bazaar. He was also on friendly terms with the troops of dogs, the cats, and the chickens of his immediate neighborhood. Animals liked him, and he returned their affection with warm appreciation. Nor was he ever known to harm, or even so much as startle, any living thing. And this extreme gentleness was perhaps his most distinguishing characteristic.
In due time this child of high future approached his eighth birthday, and, at that early age, entered upon the rigorous life of the Snataka, or student of the Vedas. The ceremony of second birth, investiture with the sacred cord of the Brahman, was the most important event of his life, since he was universally looked upon as the successor of his father, the future high priest of the village. The girdle of Menga grass was fastened round his waist and the cord knotted over his left shoulder. Into his hand they put a staff made of the polished bilva wood prescribed for the Brahman student. Aside from these things, and the single cotton garment that he wore, all the possessions that had been his in the world were supposed to belong to his teacher, who was a priest under Gokarna, a man named Asvarman, who had taken four pupils, of whom Oman was the youngest.
It was at this time of the first separation from her oldest child that Kota brought into the world a new son, who, for the time being, took up all her thoughts. And from the hour of this boy’s birth, Oman’s prospects, though he was unaware of the fact, assumed a different aspect. His career depended now upon his own abilities; for he was no longer indispensable to the ambitions of his father.
When a Hindoo boy begins his studentship, which lasts for an indeterminate number of years, he is no longer regarded as an inmate of his father’s house, but is wholly under the supervision of his instructor, and is supposed to beg his food and lodging from persons charitably inclined. As a general rule, the boy still eats at home; but his meals are given him not in the name of relationship, but as a charity asked for the sake of the gods. Beside this quasi-exile, Oman found his life a very different matter from the former free and comfortable existence. No longer could he call a single hour of the day his own. His initiation as a student had taken place in the early spring of the year 1215, and was immediately followed by the great Sravana festival for the planting of crops and the Adhya-Yopa-Karman, or opening of the course of study. His part in the religious ceremonies lasted for a week, during which time there was much fasting and little sleep. Then, on the new-moon day of the month of March, began the routine that was to last, almost unbroken, for five years.