Part 6

One of the attractions of Delhi is the tower of Kutah Mina, rising to a height of 240 feet, divided into five stories, built of red, buff and pink sandstone. The column, or tower, is of fluted architecture for most of the height, and decorated at intervals with layers of white marble slabs. We were told it was built for a favorite daughter of the ruling monarch, that she might, from its height, view the Holy River Jumna, which was at a great distance from her home. According to the tale told us, this tower must be ascended before she broke her morning fast. Near by stands the iron pillar, nearly a foot and a half in diameter and over forty feet high above the ground. It is a solid shaft of malleable iron, the natives claim its foundation is laid in the center of the earth. To see the tower and iron pillar necessitates a ride of eleven miles through dust and dirt and but little of any interest along the wayside. We visited the tomb of Johanara, the daughter of Shah Jehan, who shared her father's captivity. Pure in spirit and humble she chose a plain block of marble or alabaster, to cover her grave, screened by a delicately wrought white marble. The epitaph inscribed on her tomb reads:

"Place naught but one green herb above my head; This alone befits the poor and lonely dead."

Pious monks keep fresh grass on her tomb; a slab at the head of the grave bears this inscription in Arabic: "God is life and the resurrection." The shops are attractive and we find and purchase some ivories and, if one cares for the likeness of Shah Jehan, they will be able to purchase paintings in miniature of him and his wife, done on porcelain. Whether or not true to nature, we are unable to judge. Beautiful pink pearls are shown us. How often I have regretted not buying some of them; we never found them so perfect after leaving Delhi. The enameled bracelets are shown in great variety, and yet we pass them by.

Jeypore is a typical Indian city, twelve hours by rail from Delhi. The streets are wide and well watered, the houses of stucco, gaudily painted in hieroglyphic designs, are two and three stories high. In the middle of the streets, at intervals of two or three squares, are stone wells, around which rested diminutive gods of wood and stone. In the early morning hours the natives lay an offering of flowers before these idols and wash their hands or faces in the water and go on their way rejoicing. Innumerable pigeons, regarded as sacred, swarm in the streets, where they are fed.

We spend Thanksgiving day (November, 1895) in Jeypore, sight-seeing, our hearts longing for the dear ones at home. In our wanderings we met a wedding party. The bride, we are told, was twelve years old, the groom twenty-one. They were seated in a gaudily decorated car, drawn by oxen. A scarlet canopy, with India shawl draperies, hung gracefully down and almost concealed the little veiled lady; she wore a scarlet wrap. The groom elect, sat Turkish fashion, wore a tall hat and looked most solemn. We entered a bazaar, where bronze and lacquer were for sale, together with ancient armor, kept by one Mr. Zoroaster, a man of distinction. While on the second floor of the building, overlooking a court-yard, some gaily dressed veiled women came in and began to beat their tomtoms. Mr. Zoroaster remarked: "It is only on great occasions that my sister ever leaves her home. It is she who is below, accompanied by her women in waiting, and have come to bid my family to the wedding of her daughter." He told us the bride and groom were wealthy, and that her father was to give a feast to five thousand people on this, their wedding day. He, Mr. Zoroaster, told us the dress of his sister for the occasion cost 2,000 rupees. It was crimson, embroidered in gold, a fluted skirt; many yards in width. Her bracelets and bangles were studded with jewels. The band played as the procession moved slowly through the streets.

The palace of the Maha Rajah was opened for inspection; the rugs were rolled; the furniture covered and, as the Rajah was away from home, things seemed neglected. Pigeons were stalking around and in the palace, and rare birds of bright plumage seemed to the manor born as they stood or flew in and out at their own sweet will. Hundreds of elephants were kept on these grounds and owned by the Maha Rajah. It was an imposing sight to see these clumsy but dignified animals with their oriental trappings and painted ear flaps. The coloring was most harmonious. Horses innumerable were in the stables and were with their care keepers, making ready for their daily outing. It is a scene, when elephants, horses and tigers are led through the streets and, perhaps, witnessed nowhere else in such regal splendor. Camels stalked through the highways with their burdens; panther dogs, led by their masters, strolled leisurely along; in fact, one might feel it was a gala day and a menagerie on exhibition. There are public cages here; lions and tigers can be seen within the city's limit. Around these cages, where the crowds gather, come the poor, wretched, deformed beggars, heart-rending to gaze upon--to say nothing of the loathsome lepers, which were more hideous than the wild beasts.

A school of fine arts, sustained by the rulers of Jeypore, was well equipped with men and boys, who were industriously and skillfully beating and moulding brass into useful and decorative articles. Pottery, and especially lacquer work is carried on, we were told, to a greater degree of perfection than elsewhere in the world.

It was at Jeypore we saw the Nautch girls, kept by the Maha Rajah for his own amusement. Our guide would have us believe that we were greatly favored in this, our opportunity. One hour spent with them was quite enough, and cost us six dollars, a ridiculous expenditure. However, we have started out to see the sights; this is one of them. We were taken to a house and led up to the second story back porch, we might call it, overlooking a gloomy courtyard. A white quilted rug was thrown upon the floor. Three native girls appeared, dressed gorgeously in knife-pleated skirts to the knees, embroidered in gold. On their heads were thrown beautiful grenadine scarfs, drawn gracefully over their shoulders. Coronets studded with jewels, with ear-rings, bracelets and bangles resplendent with dazzling gems. Three women stood behind these girls, advancing and retreating, keeping time with their rude musical instruments. They move their bodies in a most disgusting manner from the hip down, while they attempt to portray great intensity of feeling. In a short time they became very familiar, and disposed to be very flirtatious with the gentlemen of our party, taking off their bracelets, ear-rings and other ornaments and attempted to place them on their wrists or hang them on their ears. They, in return are anxious to secure a ring or any ornament we wear. They are repulsive and full of evil, judging from their looks and actions. They were roughly spoken to by an old, grey-headed woman, who evidently had them in charge, and, we thought, was urging them to offer us wine or refreshment, from which we could not escape before paying, but we had been forewarned and hastily withdrew, our guide settling our bill, while we hurried into our carriage. In their gyrations they would represent snake charmers, kite-flyers and divers and other mysterious movements that were anything but graceful.

Our visit to Amber, a city of ruins adjacent to Jeypore, was made partly by carriage and the ascent of the mountain by elephant to the winter palace of the Rajah. A small ladder was attached to the howdah on the back of the animal, and one by one we climbed and took our seat, two on one side and two on the other--back to back. While making this climb the huge elephant knelt, all four feet doubled under him. When we were seated he arose. The motion was not pleasant, but all fear was dispelled by the two faithful coolies who walked on either side of Jumbo and directed his footsteps with an iron probe. We reach the palace, after a tedious ride, and to alight was a feat, but we were quite repaid by the interior views. We were too late for a sacrifice that had just been made of a sheep or lamb; saw nothing but a sprinkling of blood and the dying embers, or ashes, upon which a portion of the animal sacrificed is cooked for the priests in attendance. The walls of the palace were most unique. Doubtless, while the plaster was still wet, pieces of mirror, the size of a 25-cent piece were imbedded in it, and so thickly studded were these walls and ceilings that the effect was brilliant. The rooms were large and orange trees grew apace where a spot of ground appeared. The ruins of Amber, which we overlook, seemed the haunts of fakirs, naked and covered with dirt; with their thin, long hair matted, hanging over their shoulders or on their faces. These fanatics, in their self abnegation, are looking for their reward in Nirvanna, where they think only those enter who from self-denial purify themselves. Our return down the mountain seemed perilous, but our sure-footed Jumbo forbids fears and where his instincts failed the goad of the native caretakers seemed effective. We found it a slow mode of traveling, but sure. We could but admire the oriental coloring of Jumbo's ear flaps; they were those of a superb India shawl. On the wayside we saw altars for sacrifice and to imitate blood was rude bespatterment of red paint or a like mixture. I wondered if their religion taught them that this is emblematic of the blood that cleanseth from all sin. I could not learn from inquiries made of my guide.

BOMBAY.

The trip from Jeypore to Bombay was the most tedious of any made in India, as we made no stops. It took us from 10:30 p. m. Monday till 8:30 p. m. on Wednesday. The road was monotonous and dusty; however, the nights were cool and comfortable. Our compartment, although commodious, was covered with, it seemed, the dust of ages, but on pointing it out to our stupid servant he immediately took off his turban of white cheese cloth and mopped with it the seats and floor, shook off the dust, literally, and replaced it in form of a turban, slightly changed in coloring. The chiaroscuro was striking. The meals obtained at the stations were most unattractive.

Bombay is built upon an island, although the separation from the mainland is scarcely perceptible. The waters of the bay are studded with islands, and the harbor is capacious enough for the commerce of the world. The beautiful road skirting the bay leads to Malabar Hill, upon which are the homes of the foreign officials, and upon this boulevard is the exquisite statue in white marble, most delicately carved, of Queen Victoria in her palmy day appearance, when youth and hope make the countenance brighter. This statue was rudely defaced during the recent plague (1899) by unknown hands. On the summit of Malabar Hill are the Towers of Silence, surrounded by a grove of palm trees, with well laid out grounds. On either side of the entrance to these towers are chapels on whose altar burns the unquenchable fire and in whose purification the following of Zoroaster believe.

There are eighty steps to ascend to reach these towers, the place where the Parsee dead are deposited. Four carriers support the bier, followed closely by two long-bearded men (who alone enter the tower, handling the corpse with tongs and gloved hands). Fifty or a hundred men follow, two by two (clothed in white, with the funnel-shaped hat worn by the Parsees). One peculiarity of this solemn procession was the tying of the right and left hand of each couple, which had some religious signification. A short burial service is held in the chapel and then the body deposited at the foot of a ladder that clings to and reaches the door of the tower. This aperture is about five feet from the top of the tower, wherein lies a gridiron circular in form, ready for the dead. The tower is cylindrical in shape, built of strong masonry, at a cost of from $100,000 to $150,000. There are four of these in the enclosure; the largest is twenty-five feet high, and from eighty to one hundred feet in diameter. A deep well is underneath the tower, and as the flesh is consumed by the vultures, which are perched close beside each other on top of this circular wall, the bones fall into a deep well (subterranean), where by some chemical process they soon dissolve and pass off through a conduit to the sea. The voracious vulture is so gluttonous over the amount of food brought for their consumption that they frequently become so gorged that they are unable to fly back to their perch from the grating. There is nothing visible that is revolting, and no odors are emitted. The winding-sheet used on and dispensed with on depositing the body in the tower is burnt; in this way there are no remains of impurity. The Parsees worship one supreme God, and revere the sun and fire only as manifestations of the Deity, and never fail to show their adoration when the sun is declining below the horizon, by stretching forth their hands and bowing to its expiring rays, thus acknowledging the teachings of Zoroaster, their leader.

Bombay has a mixed population. Besides the native Indians are Persians, Arabians, Abyssinians, Syrians, Turks, Greeks and people from the Island of Madagascar, and--last and much in evidence--the English. The Parsees, the most respected sect, vie with the educated Hindoo in establishing charity schools and hospitals, and both are alike represented in the legislative councils. The more opulent of the Parsees educate their sons at Cambridge and Oxford, and generally are great travelers. They dress in European costume, but never at home lay aside their Parsee hat, so characteristic of the sect. We were told it is never discarded by day or night. Caste does not separate them and animal food is not forbidden.

We are invited to the home of Mr. Tata, a Parsee gentleman. His family ranks high in wealth and position in Bombay. My brother had, on one occasion, traveled with him up the Nile. His father and mother adhere to the Parsee dress, but their sons, having been educated in Cambridge and Oxford, have adopted the European dress, but still wear the hat of their sect. Their home occupied an entire square, and a small park separated it from the boulevard. We were invited to a four-o'clock tea. As we drove into the grounds and to a porte cochere we passed, in a victoria, Mr. Tata's brother with his wife. She was dressed in the graceful, elegant robes that the Parsee lady wears with such apparent ease. The doors were thrown open on our approach, by two turbaned and handsomely clad servants. Their white turbans were striped with gold thread; their dignified, quiet demeanor was refreshing. At the head of some twenty marble steps, full thirty feet in length, we were met by more servants in oriental dress, and were shown into the reception room. Mr. Tata was there to receive us, and after a few commonplace remarks I could restrain myself no longer and began to expatiate on the surroundings. He then told us that the house was thrown open once a week for a length of time after it was first built, that their friends might come and bring guests to see their collection of bric-a-brac and the rare pictures. At the head of these marble steps we reached a hall, the walls of which were lined with valuable oil paintings. The house was built on the line of the street--a solid front--but the interior rooms faced a court yard, filled with the most exquisite foliage plant and palms like forest trees. A glass roof, that could be slid aside, kept these from the elements. With a modest air of ease Mr. Tata took us from room to room. The portieres separating these apartments had been made to order in Japan--embroideries on satin of pale grey, lined with different shades of pink, blue, nile green, and some with white silk. On both sides of these portieres were hung what we would call the sheerest linen cambric. Tying back each pair, when desired, were ribbons or tassels of corresponding colors. All the wood used in this house was imported, rare in quality. The collection of carved ivories was surpassingly beautiful, as were also articles of jade. We, who had priced them in China, Japan and India, knew their value. The dining room was oblong, and at an oblong table in the middle of the floor could be seated five hundred guests. The table had a hollow center. By lifting up a hinged leaf persons could be seated on either side. We were shown the butler's pantry, large enough for an army of servants. Its floors were inlaid as Mosaic with pieces of broken china and cut glass. Mr. Tata said it was his father's idea and he urged him to get out a patent. The wine department made one thirsty, and the coolers are most unique, built in the wall, each bottle lying on its side in marble chiseled grooves, the process of cooling being hid from sight. We ascended a stairway of marble, whose broad steps afforded a landing place for our feet, and we could but linger to admire the works of art hung upon the walls. A beautiful stained glass window, with full effect of the setting sun, fronted the south and west at the head of these steps of mammoth dimensions. We were taken into Mr. Tata's own private parlor and from his bed-room, or an anteroom, sprang at our approach more turbaned and splendidly arrayed servants, who immediately after seating us offered on gold salvers delicately shaped tea cups, filled with the inviting Indian tea, and delicious rolled sandwiches hid in doilies of jeweled satin. Well, we drank the tea, but visions of the castle that Aladdin had built in one night by the fairies was before my eyes, and fairly blinded me. We were disappointed in not meeting his mother and father, both of whom he said were at the bedside of his aunt, who was very ill. In bidding adieu to our admirable host, we were told a carriage was ready to join ours that would convey his best friend with us to a Parsee wedding. We wondered why Mr. Tata himself did not accompany us, but found no Parsee would be bidden or allowed to enter the place set apart for the guest at a wedding feast, without a wedding garment, and when we saw that of the gentleman who went with us, we thought Mr. Tata did not care to make such an appearance before his American friends.

The dress of the men was of white cotton cloth, made into short, stiff and exceedingly full skirts reaching to the knee, an embroidered jacket and a tall Parsee hat, bare legs and sandals. The ladies wear one outside garment of silk crepe about five yards long of delicate pink, blue and other dainty tints and on either edge of this garment is a narrow velvet ribbon an inch wide, of a contrasting color--dark blue, light blue, pink or maroon in shade. This strip of velvet is embroidered in gold and silver thread and inlaid with turquoise, emeralds, pearls, etc. This article of drapery is first thrown over the head to cover one ear, on the other of which, by the way, is hung the most gorgeous solitaire diamond, emerald or ruby. This scarf is then draped most artistically about the shoulders and waist and droops in graceful folds over a silk or satin petticoat. They are very expensive; even those wrought with imitation gems cost more than we felt like expending.

There seems to be a building, or rather two of them, set apart for the wedding ceremonies which, we were told, were only consummated at certain seasons of the year (December and January). The grounds around were beautifully laid out with arches of electric lights spanning the fountains, with their sparkling waters, made more scintillating by the flickering lights above them. The bride's house was on one side of the entrance, the groom's on the other. Her friends were with her; the groom's friends with him. He sat at the door, with a magnificent India shawl folded and thrown over his arm, the gift of his best man, and wore the costume described above. The bride wore a blue crepe of very light shade. At a given signal she, with a female friend, was followed by all of those men, women and children in procession from the door of her apartment to that of the groom's. He received her at the threshold and conducted her to one of four seats--two for themselves and two for their attendants. These chairs were placed on a rug. Priests, two in number, stood on either side of them. A table with a large silver salver, filled with well scraped cocoanut in their shells, together with two large bowls of rice were brought and placed before them, the former designating plenty, the latter denoting increase or conveying the command, "multiply and replenish." These the priests hold in their hands after first causing the bride to take a seat opposite her husband elect and, throwing a cord around their waists, tie them closely together, and begin alternately to speak in an emphatic manner, showering, continually, the rice on their devoted heads; when the quantity was exhausted the bowls were replenished. Afterwards cocoanuts were given to each to hold, and for two hours this went on. The crowd, in the meantime, stood while a rug was spread and chairs were given to us, the honored guests. The children were most elaborately attired in pink and blue satin, short and full skirt, with bracelets and bangles in profusion; they were very attractive. One of these dear little girls never let go my hand, but had led me in the procession to the groom's house, and sat with me during the ceremony. Love begets love and I felt like keeping her close to me. Beautiful little satin slippers matched their dresses. After the ceremony was over, the cord was loosened and the bride sat at her husband's left and received congratulations. We then returned to the bride's house, across the court-yard and had a rich feast of fruits, dainties and wines; a few drops of the latter turned my head, but had to be drank for the sake of politeness. The ceremony was only half over when we left, all exhausted, for immediately after refreshments another two hours of this harangue by the priests had to be endured. What bliss was this?