Everything seen in the mountain city was different to the plains. The Bhutias, of decidedly Mongol cast—strong, lighter in color than the plainsmen, with rosy cheeks—were numerous, and it was good for tired sight to get away from slender, half-starved looking men, and women without eyes. Living in this section is another sect, or tribe—the Goorkhas—admired by all white men for their bravery and feared by natives. The water here was fit to drink, a luxury in India, and the air was free of the humidity of the plains; the haughty Bengali could be seen at nearly every turn, strutting about bareheaded, his hair tidily brushed; and well-groomed European military officers were galloping about the hillside roads and paths on spirited steeds.
The Bhutia woman is the "horse" or "ox" of Darjeeling. Like the Mkikuyu woman, she carries her loads in a basket, a strap fastened to each side, which loops on her forehead. Few level paths or roads are found in that section of India, but the Bhutia woman can carry two maunds (160 pounds) in weight up from tea factories miles below, and the same amount of coal, provisions, or supplies from the cities to the settlements on the mountain-sides and down to the valleys. She appeared as strong as a Zulu woman, but not so big. The country is so hilly that wagons can be drawn over it only in few sections. Bhutia men are employed at ricksha work or carrying palanquins. On account of the steepness of the surroundings, three Bhutias are required to pull and push a ricksha—one between the thills and two at the back of the vehicle. Seeing the Bhutias wearing boots was something unusual in this country. Brakemen, engineers and firemen employed on the mountain railroad do not wear shoes, and the same applies to natives engaged at the same occupation on the plains.
"Coolie, Sahib?" or "Coolie, Memsahib?" if man or woman, is the language of the Bhutia woman when seeking work. Going toward the market-place, one of these strong women, with strap about her head and basket held by the ends, will approach a person and quietly say, "Coolie, Memsahib?" "Yes," was the reply one received from a lady on her way to market. The Mongol woman followed, engaged in knitting socks. After vegetables had been bought, the Bhutia woman sidled to the dealer, turned her back, when the grocer placed the vegetables in her basket; but she kept on knitting, apparently unconscious of what was taking place. One will not look back to see if she is following when leaving a stall; but at the next vegetable stand, in another section of the market, the Bhutia woman would be standing a short distance away, still knitting. Every time articles were bought she turned her basket to the dealer, had these added to the earlier purchases, and when the marketing was finished she followed the memsahib to her home, emptied the contents in the kitchen, received four cents for her work, continuing with her knitting, as she zigzagged down a steep incline in the direction of the market district. Bhutia women are very unassuming in their manners. Some save money, but most of this is spent on jewelry. Discs of gold as large as the bottom of a saucer may be seen depending from the ears, and large silver or gold bangles are worn about the wrist. This weakness for display, however, often proves their downfall, as they are sometimes found dead along the mountain paths, stripped of every ornament.
Thousands of men and women are employed picking tea leaves during the season. The tea is picked from the bushes mostly during the monsoon season, as the new leaves sprout fast during rainy weather. They work in wet clothes much of the time, but the mountain natives are hardy, and pay little attention to such discomfort. Men tea-pickers receive eight cents a day and women six cents. Hut rent, garden, and medical service is free. Over 3,000 bushes grow to the acre. Sunday is a big day with these mountain natives; every one working on the tea plantations for miles around comes to town—Bhutians, Thibetans, Nepales, and other tribes—when the market-place and bazaars literally swarm with them. In the Darjeeling district are 60,000 acres of land under tea cultivation, and the output is nearly 20,000,000 pounds a year.
The Goorkha is what is known as a "hill man," and is small-built. He carries a short sword or long knife in a sheath at his side, but will not show the weapon. It is an old maxim with the Goorkha that blood must be drawn every time he unsheathes the knife. Were he assigned to duty by a captain, and a colonel wished to pass, the Goorkha would not allow the superior officer to go through the lines if he had not received orders to do so by the officer who gave him his assignment. He acknowledges only one order—that of the officer who gave it, be he high or low. Where the big Sikh would run or surrender under a galling fire, the Goorkha, knowing no fear, would advance and win a battle. His highest aim in life is to have marked after his name when dead, "Died in action." When mobs gather and a riot is threatened, if Goorkhas are assigned to the scene and instructed to quell it, every one seeks cover when it is announced, "The Goorkhas are coming." Indians well know the Goorkha order will be followed. He is the policeman of Darjeeling.
"The only supplies that reached the starving people of India during the famine were those sent from the United States," was the refreshing information gathered from an Englishman when touching on Indian matters. The supplies he referred to were kept from native officials and looked after by American representatives. Men get rich in India during famine years through selling relief supplies at a high figure—sent to be distributed free to the starving. Very few high-caste Indians have any feeling for the suffering of a poor or hungry native.
One eats five times a day in India. Tea or coffee is brought to the room generally before one is up; breakfast is served from nine to ten o'clock; luncheon at from one to three o'clock; tea at from five to six, and dinner from eight to nine o'clock. Band music, bioscope, and other amusements take place, but are finished before dinner. In hot countries Europeans bathe from one to three times a day.
Along the bank of a river, stream, or pond may be seen dozens of Indians doing their washing, and clothes spread out on the grass to dry. They are soaped and rolled together and juggled in the hands of the "dobey," and the next stage sees the same fellow slamming them, with all his strength, against a rock. One would look a long time for a washboard in India.
