We had a glimpse of some of the palaces on Malabar Hill, seeing the latter first against a glowing sunset. Fringed with palms and plantains, with its fantastic buildings silhouetted on the sky, it recalled the banks of storm cloud I had seen on the voyage, with their vaporous trees and aerial hanging gardens.
A closer acquaintance did not impress us with any conviction of the healthiness of Malabar Hill, though of the sumptuousness of its houses, and often their fantastic character, and the luxuriance of its palms and gardens, there could be no doubt. We passed the grey wall of the Tower of Silence, the burial (?) place of the Parsees, where the crows, the kites, and the vultures were gathered together, but did not linger there. From the hill there is certainly a magnificent view of the city of Bombay: especially if seen just before sundown, when a golden glow seems to transfigure the scene; and later, looking down on the vast plain, the white houses partly hid in trees scattered along the shore, the quays, and the ships at anchor in the bay, all seem to sink like a dream into the roseate atmosphere of sunset. But even that lovely light is darkened by a heavy smoke cloud drifting on the city from the forest of gaunt factory chimneys rising in the East like the shadow of poverty which is always cast by the riches of the West.
One rather wondered that Bombay was content to allow its best drive to be disfigured by a continuous succession of hideous commercial posters painted along the walls of one of its sides, the other being lined with palms and open towards the sea. This is, however, not worse indifference—in fact not so bad—as ours at home in allowing the posters along the railway lines to disfigure the charming and varied landscape of our own country.
INTERVIEW WITH CANDIDATES FOR THE POST OF BEARER—MOSTLY UNBEARABLE!
One of the first necessities to the traveller in India, especially if he be ignorant of Hindustanee, is the engaging of a native bearer or servant. There is always a large class of these seeking engagements. They may be seen hanging about Messrs Cook’s Tourist Offices in groups. They usually wear white clothes and turbans, but the half-caste Portuguese are dressed in semi-European fashion with their cloth suits and small, flat, round caps of the sort which used to be termed “pork pie” in England, only lower. These are embroidered round the rim, and a similar sort of head covering is also worn by superior caste Hindus. For the post of bearer the traveller will find plenty of applicants when he makes his requirements known, in fact their number is rather embarrassing, and they all produce “chits” or letters of recommendation from former employers. These, indeed, are the only references to go upon, unless one happens to come with the personal testimony of a friend. The bearers mostly register their names at Cook’s offices, but they do not take any responsibility there for them in any way. These native servants expect 35 rupees (and upwards) a month, with an allowance for clothes, but out of this pay they find their own food. If, however, their food is provided, they take less pay—about 25 rupees—but prices generally have an upward tendency. The engagement may probably be for three or four months, which gives the ordinary European tourist time to get round India, visiting the principal places of interest en route. A rupee in India is now only worth one shilling and four-pence, and fifteen rupees are the equivalent of a sovereign, it should be remembered.
Of course the bearer’s travelling expenses and washing are paid as long as he is with his master, and his fare home when his engagement comes to an end, and then, too, probably he would get a present if his conduct has been satisfactory. One does not generally expect mirrors of virtue and trustiness on such terms. No doubt native bearers vary considerably in capacity and experience as well as in appearance, to say nothing of honesty and fidelity, and some are better as couriers than as body or camp servants, or vice versa. Some claim to be efficient valets des places in addition to ordinary services, but it should be remembered that the bearer caste are not allowed to enter the sacred precincts of the great temples in India. Our choice, influenced mainly by a personal recommendation, fell on one Moonsawmy—a not unusual Hindu name. He had been in the service of Sir Samuel Baker and had had some experience in tiger-shooting, or at any rate had been out on such expeditions and in camp with the famous traveller and sportsman, but he had also acted as courier to English parties travelling in India, and professed to know the country well. We had planned an excursion to the caves of Ellora from Bombay with our friend M. Dauvergne, who had never seen them and was anxious to do so. Having mapped out our route we started on our expedition on December the 10th. Leaving Victoria Station, Bombay, at noon, we travelled by the G. I. P. (Great Indian Peninsular Railway), making our first train journey in India. The line crossed a cultivated plain at first, getting clear of Bombay; groups of date palms here and there were suggestive of Egypt. We passed native villages of different types, some with thatched roofs and some with tile—brown ridge tiles not unlike what one sees in Italy, and even corrugated iron was visible (alas!) here and there. The low huts built of sun-dried bricks or mud with flat roofs were the strangest and most eastern-looking. One could get glimpses, too, of the inhabitants, the Hindu women in saris, often of red or purple or blue, bearing on their heads water jars or bright brass or copper vessels, with much natural grace, some also carrying little brown babies supported by one arm on their hip.
A BED AT THE DAK BUNGALOW! MUNMAD (KEEP IT DA(R)K)