The Hindoos as they Are Part 13

After an hour or so, in comes Dr. Charles accompanied by Baboo Brojobundhoo. Entering the sick man's room, Dr. Charles examines the patient carefully, asks Brojobundhoo what medicines he has been giving him, (the women all the while peeping through the window, unable to understand what the doctors are talking about), and being satisfied on this point, comes out and tells the son that his father is dangerously ill, and that his friend's prescriptions are all right; he, Dr. Charles, could not do better.

Here enters Ramkanto with two other friends. Before going inside he thus speaks to the son: I hear Dr. Charles was here, what did he say? How was the fever to-day.

Mohun answers, Dr. Charles said father is very ill, the paroxysm to-day was somewhat more violent than that of other days.

Ramkanto--That's bad; day by day the fever eats into the vitals of his system. (Here the native physician comes). Well, _Khobiraj Mohashoy_, please go and see how the patient is doing? Gopeebullub (native physician) goes inside, examines the sick man with great care, satisfies the eager enquiries of the women by a.s.suring them that there is no fear, and returns outside.

Ramkanto to Gopeebullub--How did you find him? Is the pulse in its right place? Do you apprehend any immediate danger? Dr. Charles was here, you have heard what he has said, whatever the youngsters may say, I have greater confidence in you than in the English doctors; take good care and tell us the exact time when to remove the patient to the river side, that is our last sacred office; should anything happen at home, which G.o.d forbid, we shall never be able to show our faces through shame. What with such a big son, and so many friends and relations, it would be a crying shame if the patient die at home? Destiny will have its course but your _hathjuss_ (skill) will go a great way.

Gopeebullub--Everything depends on the will of G.o.d, what can we mortals do? Whatever fate has ordained must come to pa.s.s, we are mere instruments in the hands of G.o.d; the patient is gradually sinking, the pulse neither steady nor in its right place, we must be prepared for the worst, a _strong_ pulse in a _weak_ body is an ominous sign, there is no fear tonight, I can guarantee that.

Ramkanto--Well, it appears his end is nigh, he is no more destined to have rice and water.[113] Then, pointing to Mohun, Ramkanto says, to-morrow morning his _Boyetarni_ rite[114] must be performed; make the necessary preparations at once, and send a man to procure a cot (charpoy), also see that nothing may be wanting to hurry him to the riverside.

Mohun--I must do what you bid me do, hitherto I remained behind a mountain, now I shall be without protection.

Next morning, the rite of _Boyetarni_ being performed, preparations are made to carry the sick man to the river side: all the nearest relations and friends a.s.semble, and the patient, then in the full possession of his senses, is brought outside and laid on the _charpoy_; his forehead is daubed with the mud of the Ganges, and a _toolsee_ plant is placed about his head. He is told to repeat the name of his guardian deity, and one man going up to him says, let's go to visit the mother Gunga, at which he nods; this serves as a signal for lifting the _charpoy_, and putting it on the shoulders of four strong persons of equal size. The heart-rending scene that ensues hereupon among the females cannot be adequately described. Their falling on the ground, their loud and affecting cries, the tearing of their dishevelled locks, the wringing of their breast, the contortions of their bodies, all produce a mournful scene of anguish and despair which my feeble pen can hardly pourtray.

The sick man is thus carried, perhaps a distance of two or three miles, in a state of consciousness[115] exposed to all the dangers of inclement weather, fully aware of his approaching end, the carriers exchanging their shoulders every now and then, and shouting out every five minutes, "Hurry, Hurrybole, Gunga Narain, Brahma, s.h.i.+va Rama,"

until they reach their destination, which, in Calcutta, is Nimtollah Ghaut, on the banks of the Hooghly.[116] When the _charpoy_ on which the sick man is borne is placed on the ground, some one calls out to the patient to see the sacred stream, which he does in a state of mind that can be better imagined than described. On opening his eyes he beholds a dark, gloomy scene, the ghastliness of which is enough to strike horror into the heart of the most callous and indifferent. Here a dying man suffering from the convulsive agony of acute pain, is, perhaps, gasping for breath, there a fellow mortal is taken in a hurry to the very edge of the holy water to breathe out the last flicker of life; to deepen the gloom perhaps a corpse borne on a Hindoo hea.r.s.e is just brought to the Ghaut amidst the vociferous cries of "Hurry, Hurrybole," which is a significant death-warrant.

"'Tis too horrible; The weariest and most loathed earthly life Which age, ache, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise To what we fear of death?"

Can imagination conceive a more dismal, ghastly scene? But religion has crowned the practice with the weight of national sanction, and thus deadened the finer sensibilities of our nature. Sad as this picture is, the most staunch advocate of liberalism can hardly expect to escape such a fate. To a person accustomed to such scenes, death, and its concomitant agony, loses half its terrors. How many Hindoos are annually hurried to their eternal home by reason of this superst.i.tious, inhuman practice? Instances are not wanting to corroborate the truth of this painful fact. Persons entrusted with the care and nursing of a dying man at the burning Ghaut soon get tired of their charge, and rather than administer to his comfort, are known to resort to artificial means, whereby death is actually accelerated. They unscrupulously pour the unwholesome, muddy water of the river down his already choked throat, and in some cases suffocate him to death. "These are not the ebullient flashes from the glowing caldron of a kindled imagination," but undeniable facts founded on the realities of life.

The process of Hindoo _antarjal_ or immersion is another name for suffocation. Life is so tenacious, especially in what the Hindoos call _old bones_, or aged persons, that I have seen some persons brought back home after having undergone this murderous process nine or ten times in as many days. The patient, perhaps an uncared-for widow cast adrift in the world, retaining the faculty of consciousness unimpaired, is willing to die rather than continue to drag on a loathsome existence, but nature would not readily yield the vital spark. In spite of repeated murderous processes, the apparently dying flicker of life would not become extinct. In the case of an aged man, the return home after _immersion_ is infamously scandalous, but in that of an aged widow the disgrace is more poignant than death itself. I have known of an instance in which an old widow was brought back after fifteen _immersions_, but being overpowered by a sense of shame she drowned herself in the river after having lived a disgraceful life for more than a year. As I have observed elsewhere, no expression is more frequent in the mouth of an aged widow than the following: "Shall I ever die?" Scarcely any effort has ever been made to suppress or even to ameliorate such a barbarous practice, simply because religion has consecrated it with its holy sanction.

But to return to the thread of my narrative, the sick man dies after a stay of four days at the Ghaut, suffering perhaps the most excruciating pangs and agony generally attendant on a deat-bed. The names of his G.o.ds are repeatedly whispered in his ears, and the consolations of religion are offered him with an unsparing hand, in order to mitigate his sufferings, and if possible to brighten his last hours. The corpse is removed from the resting place to the burning Ghaut, a distance of a few hundred yards, and preparations for a funeral pile are speedily made.

The body is then covered with a piece of new cloth and laid upon the pyre, the upper and lower part of which is composed of firewood, f.a.ggots, and a little sandalwood and ghee to neutralize the effects of effluvia. The _Marooyapora_ Brahmin,[117] (an outcast) reads the formula, and the son or the nearest of kin sets fire to the pile; the body is consumed to ashes, but the navel remaining unburnt is taken out and thrown into the river. Thus ends the ceremony of cremation; the son putting a few jars of holy water on the pile, bathes in the stream, and returns home with his friends, changing his old garment for new white clothes, called _uttary_, on one end of which is fastened an iron key to keep off evil spirits. It is worthy of remark here, that providence is so propitious to us in every respect that in a few hours the son becomes reconciled to his unhappily altered circ.u.mstances caused by the loss of his father; instead of bemoaning his loss in a despondent frame of mind, he is soon awakened to a sense of his new responsibility.

On reaching the gate of the house, all persons touch fire, and putting _neem_ leaves and a few grains of _kalie_ (a kind of pulse) into the mouth, cry out as before "Hurrybole, Hurrybole" and enter the house. The lamentation of the females inside the house, which was suppressed for a while through sheer exhaustion, is instantly renewed at the sound of "Hurrybole," as if fresh fuel were added to the flame, and every voice is drowned in the overwhelming surge of grief. Their melancholy strain, their pointed, pathetic allusion to the bereavement, the cadence of their plaintive voices, the utter dejection of their spirit, their loud, doleful cries reverberating from one side of the house to the other, the beating of their b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and the tearing of their hair, are too affecting not to make the most obdurate shed tears of sorrow.

The son, from the hour of his father's death to the conclusion of the funeral ceremony, is religiously forbidden to shave, wear shoes, s.h.i.+rts, or any garment other than the piece of white cloth, his food being confined to a single meal consisting only of _atab_ rice, _khasury dhall_ (a sort of inferior pulse) milk, ghee, sugar and a few fruits, which must be cooked either by his mother or his wife; at night he takes a little milk, sugar and fruits. This course of _regime_ lasts ten days in the case of a Brahmin, and thirty-one days in that of a _Soodra_.[118] Here the advantages of the privileged cla.s.s are twofold; (1), he has to observe the rigid discipline for ten days only; (2), he has ample excuse for small expenditure at the funeral ceremony on the score of the shortness of time. This austere mode of living for a month in the case of a _Kayast_, by far the most aristocratic and influential portion of the Hindoo population, serves as a tribute of respect and grat.i.tude to the memory of a departed father. As the country is now in a transition state, a young educated Hindoo does not strictly abide by the above rule, but breaks it privately in his mode of living, of which the inmates of the family only are cognisant. He repudiates publicly what he does privately. Thus the outer man and the inner man are not exactly one and the same being, he dares not avow without what he does within, in short, he plays the hypocrite. But an orthodox Hindoo observes the rule in all its integrity, he is more consistent if not more rational, he does not play a double game, but conforms to the rules of his creed with scrupulous exactness.

Fifteen or sixteen days after the demise of his father, the son, if young, is a.s.sisted by his friends in drawing an estimate of the probable cost of the approaching _Shrad_ or funeral ceremony. In the generality of cases, an estimate is made out according to the length of the purse of the party; a few exceed it under a wrong impression that a debt is warranted by the special gravity of the occasion, which is one of great merit in popular estimation.[119]

The Sobha Bazar Rajah family, the Dey family of Simla, the Mullick and Tagore families of Patooriaghatta, all of Calcutta, were said to have spent upwards of 20,000 or two lacks of Rupees each on a funeral ceremony. They not only gave rich presents to almost all the learned Brahmins of Bengal, in money and kind, fed vast crowds of men of all cla.s.ses, but likewise distributed immense sums among beggars and poor people,[120] who for the sake of one Rupee, walked a distance of perhaps thirty miles, bringing with them their little children in order to increase their numerical strength. Some really dest.i.tute women, far advanced in a state of pregnancy, were known to have been delivered in the midst of this densely crowded mult.i.tude. Although, now-a-days, the authorities do not sanction such a tumultuous gathering, or tolerate such a nuisance oftentimes attended with fatal accidents, no _Shrad_ of any note at all takes place without the a.s.semblage of a certain number of beggars and paupers, who receive from two to four annas each.

After the twentieth day, the son, accompanied by a Brahmin and a servant who carries a small carpet for the Baboo to sit on, walks barefooted to the house of each and every one of his relations, friends and neighbours, to announce that the _Shrad_ is to take place on such a day, _i. e._, on the thirty-first day after death, and to request that they should honour him with their presence and see that the ceremony is properly performed, adding such other complimentary epithets as the occasion suggests. This ceremonious visit is called _lowkata_, and those who are visited return the compliment in time. The practice is deserving of commendation, inasmuch as it manifests a grateful remembrance for the memory of one to whom he is indebted for his being.

Precisely on the thirtieth day, the son and other near relatives shave, cut their nails, and put on new clothes again, giving the old clothes to the barber. Meantime invitations are sent round to the Brahmins as well as to the Soodras, requesting the favor of their presence at the _Sabha_ or a.s.sembly on the morning of the _Shrad_, and at the feast on the following day or days. On the thirty-first day, early in the morning, the son, accompanied by the officiating priest, goes to the river side, bathes and performs certain preliminary rites. Here the _rayowbhats_ and _tastirams_ (religious mendicants), who watch these things just as closely as a vulture watches a carcase, give him a gentle hint about their rights, and follow him to the house, waiting outside for their share of the articles offered to the manes of the deceased. These men were so troublesome or boisterous in former days, when the Police were not half so vigilant as they now are, that for two days successively they would continue to shout and roar and proclaim to the pa.s.sers by that the deceased would never be able to go into _Boykanta_ or paradise, and that his soul would burn in h.e.l.l fire until their demands were satisfied. Partly from shame, but more from a desire to avoid such a boisterous, unseemly scene, the son is forced to succ.u.mb and satisfy them in the best way he can.

As the style of living among the Hindoos has of late become rather expensive, and the potent influence of vanity--purely the result of an artificial state of society--exerts its pressure even on this mournful occasion, the son, if he be well to do in the world, spends from five to six thousand Rupees on a _Shrad_; the richer, more. He has to provide for the apparently solemn purpose the following silver utensils, _viz._:--_Ghara_, _Gharoo_, _Thalla_, _Batta_, _Battee_, _Raykab_, gla.s.s, besides couch, bedding, shawls, broadcloth, a large lot of bra.s.s utensils and hard silver in cash, all which go to pay the Brahmins and Pundits, who had been invited. The waning ascendency of this privileged cla.s.s is strikingly manifest on an occasion of this nature. For one or two rupees they will clamour and scramble, and unblus.h.i.+ngly indulge in all manner of fulsome adulation of the party that invited them.[121]

The Pundits of the country, however learned they may be in cla.s.sical lore and logical ac.u.men, are very much wanting in the rules of polished life. The manner in which they display their profound learning is alike puerile and ludicrous. History does not furnish us with sufficient data regarding their conduct in ancient days. As far as research or investigation has elucidated the point, it is reasonable to conclude that the ascendency of the Brahmins was built on the ignorance of the people, and there is a very strong probability that there was a secret coalition between the priests and the rulers for the purpose of keeping the great ma.s.s of the nation in a state of perpetual darkness and subjection, the latter being oftentimes content with the barter of "solid pudding against empty praise." But the progress of enlightenment is so irresistible that the strongest bulwark of secret compact for the conservation of unnatural Brahminical authority is liable, as it should be, to crumble into dust. It would be a great injustice to deny that among these Brahmins there were some justly distinguished for their profound erudition and saintly lives; they displayed a piety, a zeal, a constant and pa.s.sionate devotion to their faith, which contrast strangely enough with the profligacy and worldliness of the present ecclesiastics.

The Pundits of the present day, when they a.s.semble at a _Shrad_--and that is considered a fit arena for discussion--are generally seen to engage in a controversy, the bone of contention being a debatable point in grammar, logic, metaphysics or theology. They love to indulge in sentimental transcendentalism, as if utterly unconscious of the matter-of-fact tendency of the age we live in. A strong desire of displaying their deep learning and high cla.s.sical acquirements in Sanskrit, not sometimes unmixed with a contemptible degree of affectation, insensibly leads them to violate the fundamental laws of decorum. When two or more Pundits wrangle, the warmth of debate gradually draws them nearer and closer to each other, until from sober, solid argumentation, they descend to the _argumentum ad ignorantiam_, if not, to the _argumentum adbaculum_. Their taking a pinch of snuff, the quick moving of their hands, the almost involuntary unrobing of their garment, which consists of a single _dhooty_ and _dubja_ often put round the neck, the vehement tone in which they conduct a discussion, the utter want of attention to each other's arguments, and their constant divergence from the main point whence they started, throw a serio-comic air over the scene which a Dave Carson only could imitate. They do not know what candour is, they are immovable in their own opinion, and scarcely anything could conquer their dogged persistence in their own argument, however fallacious it may be. They are as prodigal in the quotation of specious texts in support of their own particular thesis as they are obstinately deaf to the sound logical view of an opponent.

Brahminical learning is certainly uttered in "great swarths" which, like polished pebbles, are sometimes mistaken for diamonds. The way in which the disputants give flavour to their arguments is quite a study in the art of dropping meanings. The destruction of the old husks, and the transparent sophistries, of the disputatious Brahmins, is one of the great marvels achieved by the rapid diffusion of Western knowledge.

When engaged in an animated discussion, these Pundits will not desist or halt until they are separated by their other learned friends of the faculty. Some of them are very learned in the Shastra, especially in _Smrittee_, on which a dispute often hangs, but they have very little pretension to the calm and dispa.s.sionate discussion of a subject.

Cogency of argument is almost invariably lost in the vehemence of declamation and in the utterance of unmeaning patter. Their arguments are not like Lord Beaconsfield's speeches,--a little labored and labyrinthine at first, but soon working themselves clear and becoming amusing and sagacious. Let it not be understood from this that the language (Sanskrit) in which they speak is dest.i.tute of sound logic, as Mr. James Mill would have his readers believe; it is certainly deficient in science and the correct principles of natural philosophy as developed by modern discoveries, but the elegance of its diction, the beautiful poetical imagery in which it abounds, the sound moral doctrines which it inculcates, the force of argument by which it is distinguished, and the elevated ideas which its original system of theology unfolds, afford no good reason why it should not be stamped with the dignity and importance of a cla.s.sical language, and why "the deep students of it should not enjoy some of the honors and estimation conferred by the world on those who have established a name for an erudite acquaintance with Latin and Greek." If the respective merits of all the cla.s.sical languages are properly estimated, it is not too much to say that the Sanskrit language will in no way suffer by the comparison, though as history abundantly testifies it labored under all the adverse circ.u.mstances of mighty political changes and convulsions, no less than the intolerant bigotry of many of the Moslem conquerors, whose unsparing devastations have destroyed some of the best specimens of Sanskrit composition. "When our princes were in exile," says a celebrated Hindoo writer, "driven from hold to hold and compelled to dwell in the clefts of the mountains, often doubtful whether they would not be forced to abandon the very meal preparing for them, was that a time to think of historical records," and we should say, of literary excellence? The deep and laborious researches of Sir William Jones, Colebrooke, Macnaghten, Wilson, Wilkins, and a host of other distinguished German and French savants, have, in a great measure, brought to light the hidden treasures of the Sanskrit language.

From eight o'clock in the morning to 2 o'clock in the evening, the house of a _Shrad_ is crammed to suffocation. A s.p.a.cious awning covers the open s.p.a.ce of the court-yard, preventing the free access of air; carpets and satterangees are spread on the ground for the _Kayastas_ and other castes to sit on, while the Brahmins and Pundits by way of precedence take their seats on the raised _Thacoordallan_, or place of wors.h.i.+p. The couch-cot with bedding, and the _dan_ consisting of silver and bra.s.s utensils enumerated before, with a silver salver filled with Rupees, are arranged in a straight line opposite the audience, leaving a little open s.p.a.ce for _kittanees_, or bands of songsters or songstresses and musicians, which form the necessary accompaniment of a _Shrad_ for the purpose of imparting solemnity to the scene. Three or four door-keepers guard the entrance, so that no intruders may enter and create a disturbance. The guests begin to come in at eight, and are courteously asked to take their appropriate seats (Brahmins among Brahmins, and Kayastas among Kayastas,) the servants in waiting serve them with _hookah_ and tobacco,[122] those given to the Brahmins having a thread or string fastened at the top for the sake of distinction. The Kayastas and other guests are seen constantly going in and coming out, but the generality of the Brahmins stick to their places until the funeral ceremony is completed. The current topics of the day form the subject of conversation while the _hookah_ goes round the a.s.sembly with great precision and punctuality. The female relatives are brought in covered _palkees_, as has been described before, by a separate entrance, shut out from the gaze of the males. But as this is a mourning scene their naturally convivial spirit gives way to condolence and sympathy.

Excessive grief does not allow the mother or the wife of the deceased to take an active part in the melancholy proceedings of the day; they generally stay aloof in a separate room, and are perhaps heard to mourn or cry. The very sight of the mourning offerings, instead of affording any consolation, almost involuntarily enkindles the flame of sorrow, and produces a train of thoughts in keeping with the commemoration of the sad event. Sisters of a congenial spirit try to soothe them by precepts and examples, but their admonition and condolence prove in the main unavailing. The appearance of a new face revives the sad emotions of the heart. Nothing can dispel from the minds of a disconsolate mother or wife the gloomy thoughts of her bereavement, and the still more gloomy idea of a perpetual widowhood. The clang of _khole_ and _kharatal_ (musical instruments), which is fitted, as it were, from its very dissonance, to drive away the ghost and kill the living, falls doubly grating on her ears, while the fond endearments of _Jasoda_, the mother of Krishna, rehea.r.s.ed by the songsters in the outer court-yard, but aggravate her grief the more. Weak and tenderhearted by nature, she gradually sinks under the overwhelming load of despondency, and raising her hand to her forehead mournfully exclaims, "has Fate reserved all this for me?" In such cases, there is appropriateness in silence.

About ten o'clock the son begins to perform the rite of the funeral obsequies, taking previously the permission of the Brahmins and the a.s.sembled guests to do so. The officiating priest reads the formulas, he repeating them. It must be noticed here that tenacious as the Hindoos are in respect of the distinction of caste, they do not scruple to invite lower orders on such an occasion, but they would not mix with them at the time of eating. The _Dulloputty_ or head of the party, makes his appearance about this time; when he enters the house, all other guests then present, except the Brahmins, as a token of respect for his position, rise on their legs, and do not resume their seats until he sits down. For this distinction or honour a _Dullopatty_ has to spend an immense sum of money, to which allusion has already been made. His appearance serves as a signal for the performance of the rite, called _mala chandan_, or the distribution of garlands and sandal paste among the a.s.sembled mult.i.tude. As a matter of course, the Brahmins by way of pre-eminence receive the first garland, and after them the _Dullopatty_ obtains the same honour, and then the _Koolins_[123] and other guests according to rank. Where there is no _Dullopatty_, the garland is put round the neck of a boy, at which no one can take any offence, and afterwards they are distributed indiscriminately.

Meantime the son is engaged in the performance of the ceremony, while the bands of songsters quarrel with one another for the privilege of entertaining the audience with their songs, which renders confusion worse confounded. Female songsters of questionable virtue are now more in favor than their male rivals, which is an unerring proof of the degeneracy of the age. Only one band is formally engaged, but thirty bands may come of their own accord, quite uninvited. The disappointed ones generally get from two to four Rupees each, but the party retained gets much more, the rich guests coming in making them presents, besides what they obtain from the family retaining them.

About one in the afternoon, the ceremony is brought to a close, and the a.s.sembled mult.i.tudes begin to disperse. Those who have to attend their offices return earlier, but not without offering the compliments suited to the gravity of the occasion. Some of the Brahmins remain behind to receive their customary _bidhay_ or gift. According to their reputation for learning they obtain their rewards. The first in the list gets, in ordinary cases, about five Rupees in cash, and one bra.s.s pot valued, at four or five Rupees, the second and third in proportion, and the rest, say, from one to two Rupees each, in addition to a bra.s.s utensil. The silver utensils of which the _soroshes_ are made are afterwards cut and allotted to the Brahmins according to their worth or status in the republic of letters. The _Gooroo_ or spiritual guide, and the _Purrohit_ or officiating priest, being the most interested parties, generally carry off the lion's share. So great is their cupidity that the one disputes the right of the other as to the amount of reward they are respectively ent.i.tled to. As a matter of course, the _Gooroo_, from his spiritual ascendency, manages to carry off the highest prize. The distribution of rewards among the Brahmins and Pundits of different degrees of scholarly attainments, is a rather thankless task. In common with other human beings, they are seldom satisfied, especially when the question is one of Rupees. Each sets a higher value on his own descent and learning, undervaluing the worth of his compeers. The voice of the President, who has many a knotty question to solve, decides their fate, but it is seldom that a cla.s.sification of this nature results in producing general satisfaction. As these Pundits, or rather professors, called _Adhaypucks_, do not eat in the house of _Soodras_, in addition to their reward in money and kind, they, each of them, receive a small quant.i.ty of sweetmeats and sugar, say about two pounds in all in lieu of _achmany jalpan_ or fried and prepared food. On a _Shrad_ day in the afternoon one can see numbers of such Brahmins walk through the native part of the city, with an earthen plate of sweetmeats in one hand and a bra.s.s pot in the other, the fruits of their day's labor. Such gains being quite precarious, and the prospect looming before them quite discouraging, the annual sum total they derive from this source is quite inadequate to their support, and that of the _chottoos-pattee_ or school they keep. Hence many such inst.i.tutions for the cultivation of Sanskrit have been abandoned for want of sufficient encouragement, and as a necessary consequence the sons and grandsons of these Brahmins have taken to secular occupations, quite incompatible with the spirit of the Shastra. In the halcyon days of Hindoo sovereignty, when Brahminical learning was in the ascendant and rich religious endowments were freely made for the support of the hierarchy,[124] as well from the influence of vanity as from the compunctions of a death-bed repentance, such _chottoos-pattees_ annually sent forth many a brilliant scholar,--the pride of his professor and the ornament of his country. But the advancement of English education--the only pa.s.sport to honor and emoluments--has necessarily laid, as it were, an embargo on the extensive culture of Brahminical erudition. The University curriculum, however, under the present Government, embraces a system well calculated to remove the reproach.

The day following the funeral ceremony is spent in giving an entertainment to the Brahmins, without which a Hindoo cannot regain his former purity. About twelve, they begin to a.s.semble, and when the number reaches two or three hundred, _Koosasan_ or gra.s.s seats in long straight rows are arranged for them in the s.p.a.cious court-yard, and as Hindoos use nothing but green plantain leaves for plates on such grand occasions, each guest is provided with a cut piece on which are placed the fruits of the season, ghee-fried _loochees_ and _kachoories_, and several sorts of sweetmeats in earthen plates for which there are no English names. In spite of the utmost vigilance of door-keepers and others, intruders in rather decent dress enter the premises and sit down to eat with the respectable Brahmins, but should such a character be found out, steps are instantly taken to oust him. On a grand occasion, some such unpleasant cases are sure to occur. There are loafers among Hindoos as there are among Europeans. These men, whom misfortune or crime has reduced to the last state of poverty, are prepared to put up with any amount of insult so long as they have their fill. When a Hindoo makes a calculation about the expenses of an entertainment at a _Shrad_ or marriage (both grand occasions), he is constrained to double or treble his quantum of supply that he may be enabled to meet such a contingency without any inconvenience. The practice referred to is a most disreputable one, and beseems a people not far above the level of a Nomad tribe. Even some of the Brahmins[125] who are invited do not scruple to take a portion home, regardless of the contaminated touch of a person of the lowest order, simply because the temptation is too strong to be resisted. Before departure, each and every one of the Brahmins obtains one or two annas as _dakhinah_, a concession which is not accorded to any other caste.

The next day, a similar entertainment is given to the Kayastas and other cla.s.ses, which is accompanied by the same noise, confusion and tumult that characterised the entertainment given on the previous day. The sober and quiet enjoyments of life which have a tendency to enliven the mind can seldom be expected in a Hindoo house of _Shrad_, where all is _golemal_, confusion and disorder. When a dinner is announced, a regular scramble takes place, the rude and the uninvited occupy the _first_ seats to the exclusion of the genteel and respectable, and when the eatables are beginning to be served, the indecent cries of "bring _loochee_, bring _kachoorie_, bring _tarkari_," and so on, are heard every now and again, much to the disturbance of the polite and the discreet.

The day following is called the _neeumbhanga_, or the day on which the son is allowed to break the rules of mourning after one month. In the morning the band of songsters previously retained come and treat the family to songs of Krishna, taking care to select pieces which are most pathetic and heart-rending, befitting the mournful occasion of a very heavy domestic bereavement. The singing continues till twelve or one o'clock, and some people seem to be so deeply affected that they actually shed tears, and forget for a while their worldly cares and anxieties. When the songs are finished, the son and his nearest relatives, rubbing their bodies with oil and turmeric, remove the _brisakat_ on their shoulders from the house to a place near it. A hole is made, and the _brisakat_ (a painted log of wood about six feet high) with an ox on the top, &c., is put into it; after this they all bathe and return home. The songsters are dismissed with presents of money, clothes and food.

The son then sits down to a dinner with his nearest blood relation, and this is the _first_ day that he leaves his _habishee_ diet after a month's mourning, and takes to the use of fish and other Hindoo dishes.

He is also allowed to change his mourning dress and put on shoes, after having made a present of a pair to a Brahmin; he, moreover, sleeps with his wife from this day as before, in fact he reverts to his former mode of living in every respect.

As the entertainment this time consists of _vojan_, made up of rice and curries, and not _jalpan_, made up of _loochees_ and sweetmeats, comparatively a smaller number of guests a.s.semble on the occasion[126]

and that of loafers and intruders exhibits a very diminished proportion. Even on such occasions, one can always tell from a distance that there is a feast at such a house from the noise it is invariably attended with.

Having described above the details connected with the funeral ceremony, I will now endeavour to give an account of one or two of the most celebrated _Shrads_ that took place in Bengal after the battle of Pla.s.sey, premising that every thing which shall be said on the subject is derived chiefly from hearsay, as no authentic historical records have come down to us. The first and most celebrated _Shrad_ was that performed by Dewan Gunga Gobind Set, on the occasion of his mother's death. It was performed on so large a scale that he caused reservoirs to be made which were filled with ghee and oil, immense heaps of rice, flour and _dhall_ were piled on the ground. Several large rooms were quite filled with sweetmeats of all sorts. Mountains of earthen pots and firewood were stacked on the Maidan. Hundreds of Brahmin cooks and confectioners were constantly at work to provide victuals for the enormous concourse of people. Silver and bra.s.s utensils of all kinds were arranged in pyramids. Hundreds of couches with bedding were placed before the _Sabha_, (a.s.sembly). Elephants richly caparisoned with silver trappings formed presents to Brahmins. Tens of thousands of silver coins bearing the stamp of _Shah Allum_ were placed on ma.s.sive silver plates.

And to crown the whole, thousands of learned Pundits from all parts of the country congregated together to impart a religious solemnity to the spectacle. All these preparations lent a grandeur to the scene, which was in the highest degree imposing. Countless myriads of beggars from the most distant parts of the Province a.s.sembled together, and they were not only fed for weeks at the expense of the Dewan, but were dismissed with presents of money, clothes and food, with the most enthusiastic hosannas on their lips. For more than two months the distribution of alms and presents lasted, and what was the most praiseworthy feature in the affair was the Job-like patience of the Dewan, whose charity flowed like the rus.h.i.+ng flood-tide of the holy Ganges on the banks of which he presented offerings to the manes of his ancestors. Some of the _Adhapucks_ or Professors obtained as much as one thousand Rupees each in cash and gold and silver articles, or rather fragments of the same, to a considerable value. Besides these magnificent honorariums the whole of their travelling and lodging expenses were defrayed by the Dewan, who was reputed to be so rich that like Croesus of old he did not know how much he was worth; hence there is still a current saying amongst the Bengalees, which runs thus: "If ever money were wanted, Gouri Set will pay." Gouri Set was the son of Gunga Gobind Set. The expenses of the _Shrad_ have been variously estimated at between ten and twelve lacks of Rupees. The result of this truly extravagant expenditure was wide-spread fame, and the name of the donor is still cherished with grateful remembrance. But as all human greatness is evanescent, the fame of the family for charity once unparalleled in the annals of Bengal has long since dwindled into insignificance.

The next _Shrad_ of importance was that of Maharajah Nabkissen Bahadoor of Shobhabazar, Calcutta. His son Raja Rajkissen performed the _Shrad_, which, to this day, stands unrivalled in this city. Four sets of gold and sixty-four sets of silver utensils described before, amounting in value to near a lakh of Rupees, were given on the occasion. Such paraphernalia go by the name of _dansagor_ or "gift like the sea."

Besides these presents in money to Brahmins upwards of two lakhs of Rupees were given to the poor.

If these immense sums of money had been invested for the permanent support of a Charitable Inst.i.tution, it would have done incalculable good to society. But then there was no regularly organised system of Public Charity, nor had the people any idea of it. Such immense sums were spent mostly for religious purposes according to the prevailing notions of the age. Tanks, reservoirs, flights of steps on the banks of the river,[127] fine rows of trees, every three miles stone buildings or choultries for travellers, affording a grateful shelter throughout the country, were among the works of public utility constructed by the charitably disposed.

FOOTNOTES:

[113] This means that he must soon die.

[114] _Boyetarni_ is a river which must be crossed before one gets to heaven; the rite consists in distributing a certain amount of _cowries_ among the Brahmins for guiding the soul through the Death Valley to the other side.

[115] A Hindoo, especially a grown up man, if he die at home is branded as an unrighteous person; many a one otherwise esteemed righteous in his life-time is denounced as a sinful being should he not expire on the banks of the holy stream. In the _rari_, or inland provinces, through which the Ganges does not flow, people are constrained to breathe their last on the banks of a neighbouring tank and are consequently precluded, from their geographical position, from securing the benefit of this _cheap_ mode of salvation. As a partial atonement for this natural disadvantage, they bring the navel of the dead and throw it into the holy stream, which, in their supposition, is tantamount to the purification of the soul.

[116] A few years back the Calcutta Munic.i.p.ality proposed to have the burning Ghaut removed to Dhappa, a notoriously unhealthy marshy swamp, some six miles east of Calcutta, bordering on the Soonderbunds, because the present site was considered a nuisance to the city. As must naturally be expected, great sensation was produced among the Hindoo population, and memorials were submitted to the Government of Bengal, signed by the most influential portion of the Hindoo community. In spite of solicitation and remonstrance, the Munic.i.p.ality were determined to carry out their plan, but the _mighty_ Ramgopal Ghose, as the late Mr.

James Hume, the Editor of the "_Eastern Star_," styled him, interposed and exerted his best, at great personal sacrifice, to nullify the proposal. The Hindoos called a meeting, and Ramgopal, moved by the entreaties of his countrymen, made an admirable speech at the Town Hall, on which occasion no less than fifty thousand people a.s.sembled on the _maidan_ facing the Town Hall. In the speech he set forth, in a graphic manner, the suitableness of the present site, and the distress and hards.h.i.+p of the people, as well as the shock to religious feeling which the removal would involve. He eventually succeeded in prevailing on the authorities to withdraw the proposal. When he came out of the Town Hall, he was most enthusiastically cheered by thousands of people, Brahmins and Soodras, and loud cries of "may he live long" were heard on all sides.

[117] Some forty years back these Brahmins and their whole crew of _murdur-farasha.s.sys_ were a regular set of ragam.u.f.fins whose sole occupation was to fleece their victims in the most extortionate manner imaginable; the Brahmin would not read the formula, nor his myrmidons put up the funeral pile, without having received nearly four times the amount of the present cost. Great credit is due to Baboo Chunder Mohun Chatterjee, the late Registrar, for his strenuous exertions in making the Police frame a set of rules for regulating the funeral expenses at the burning Ghaut. It is a public boon which cannot be too highly appreciated.

[118] In the case of a daughter (married) the mourning lasts for three days. On the morning of the fourth day she is enjoined to cut her nails, and perform the funeral ceremony of a departed father or mother. An entertainment is to be given to the Brahmins and friends. This is always done on a comparatively small scale, and in most cases the husband is made to bear all the expenses of the ceremony and the entertainment.

[119] Apart from erroneous popular notions, which in this age of depravity are corrupted by vanity, the Hindoo Shastra, be it mentioned to its credit, abounds in explicit injunctions on the subject of a funeral ceremony in various ways according to the peculiar circ.u.mstances of parties. From an expenditure of lacks and lacks of Rupees to a mere trifle, it can be performed with the ultimate prospect of equal merit.

It is stated in the holy Shastra that the G.o.d Ramchundra considered himself purified (for a Hindoo under mourning is held unclean until the funeral ceremony is performed) by offering to the manes of his ancestors simple b.a.l.l.s of sand, called _pindas_, on the bank of the holy stream.

In these days a poor man would be held sanctified or absolved from this religious responsibility by making a _tilakanchan Shrad_, or offering a small quant.i.ty of rice, _teelseed_ and a few fruits, and feeding only one Brahmin, all which would not cost more than four Rupees.