As we left the monkeys we had another unusual sight. We saw a large and leafy mango tree leaning over the river, which seemed to have suddenly burst into white blossoms; but we soon perceived these supposed flowers begin to flutter, and winged ones detached themselves from the mass of white, which we then discovered were white cranes. They would rise in a cloud and settle again ever and anon among the green foliage. They were a small kind, not larger than a heron, and are common all over India. We often saw them afterwards rising by the side of the pools by the railway track, or fishing, or flying over the submerged paddy fields, but in smaller numbers, and never so beautifully.
A FAMILY PARTY—CRANES ON A MANGO TREE (SARBARMATI RIVER)
On the white and dusty road to Ahmedabad we met numbers of wagons loaded with cotton bales and drawn by large white oxen. The country carts had wicker bodies, somewhat like those I have seen in Germany, and primitive massive wheels with eight spokes in a double cross. Camels were occasionally seen ridden by natives. As at Bombay, there were extensive cotton factories here, and cotton was very largely grown in the country around.
The bazaars and the street life in Ahmedabad are most various and interesting, all sorts of trades and crafts being carried on. There is still a great quantity of silk-weaving done, and brocades wrought with gold thread. A proverb of the place quoted by Mr W. S. Caine has it that the prosperity of Ahmedabad hangs on three threads—“gold, silk, and cotton”; and these three threads still symbolise the main industries of the city. A picturesque incident in the streets is the silk-winder—in some open space in front of the shops you may sometimes see a native woman standing (like Mr Holman Hunt’s “Lady of Shalott”) within a low square enclosure formed of bamboo sticks wound with long strands of silk thread. She holds a sort of spindle in her left hand, and a long tapering wand in her right, by means of which she divides or regulates the thread as she winds it off on to the bamboo sticks, rapidly twirling the spindle as she does so. It is an extremely pretty and picturesque sight. The old methods of hand-weaving are practised, and for weaving the brocades or “kincobs” the treadles in the loom are lifted from above by a boy, who draws up the cords attached to the threads of the warp according to the pattern the weaver is working. It is said that the native trade in the finer brocaded silks has been injured owing to the richer natives following the European fashion of dressing plainly, the rich silk woven with gold thread being only worn on state occasions, another instance of the depressing influence of Western ideas and habits upon the East. The rich merchants, and the Maharajahs and their court officials no doubt believe they are improving their style in adopting fashions from Europe, but the effect is practically only to vulgarise the native taste. The native princes and the well-to-do merchants now dash about in imported motor cars in raiment of dingy tints, instead of proudly prancing upon stately elephants and clothed in splendour and colour. Eastern life is made less joyous in its aspects by such changes. The mass of the people do not change, however, and seem to have no desire to, and they are the common people everywhere who give the characteristic life and colour. Though they only wear cotton or muslin, the beauty and variety of the tints are wonderful, and fill the bazaars with a stream of ever-changing hues in the most unexpected combinations and harmonies.
Driving through the bazaars at Ahmedabad, we came to a sort of open space from which several streets diverged, and here was being held a sort of open market of cloth—chiefly muslins and cottons of every variety of colour and pattern. These were laid out in piles on the ground, the merchants squatting by their goods or spreading them out to show their customers.
STREET SCENE, AHMEDABAD
ENGLISH TRAVELLERS SKETCHING AND MAKING PURCHASES
We stopped our carriage, and got our bearer to bring us some of the stuffs to look at and to inquire the prices, and we were soon surrounded by an eager crowd of dark faces and turbaned heads, and were nearly buried in a rainbow-tinted cloud of muslin and cotton cloth, amid which deliberate selection became difficult. I noted, however, many examples of the native method of dyeing cloths in patterns by the tying and dipping methods which often produce most delightful results, the pattern having a softer and more blended effect than the ordinary block printing. Although Manchester cottons were in evidence, it was pleasant to see that native methods were not forgotten, and were still in demand.
The native pottery, too, at Ahmedabad is extremely interesting, the common forms are always good, as indeed they are throughout India. Enormous earthen jars are made here to hold grain, or for carrying water from the river on ox-carts. The ordinary earthen water-jar, which the Hindu women carry on their heads, resembles the ancient Greek Hydria in form, and is so beautiful that it is distressing to see it occasionally substituted by the hideous tin kerosine can—another European innovation—much more difficult to balance one would think. In the streets of Ahmedabad occasional features are small, richly carved octagonal minarets supported on posts, and looking like glorified pigeon houses. There is a big Hindu temple—a Jain temple of no antiquity, only about thirty or forty years old. The shrine of Hathi Sing. It has the characteristic pagoda domes, and is elaborately painted and decorated, though rather coarsely. The finest features were the marble pavements where, again, one noticed the peculiar soft polish given by bare feet.