04-18-2006, 06:26 AM
Looking at us
by Raj Chatterjee
I have in my possession a little book entitled âIn Indiaâ written by one G.W. Steevens and published in 1899. The first sight of India, says the author, is âamazing, entrancing, stupefyingâ. Bombay, where he landed, presented itself to him as a city of âmonstrous contrastsâ. He compares the elegance of the public buildings along the sea front with the lowly huts of matting, thatched with leaves.
He then plunges into a description of the various types of humanity that he sees in the city. He picks out the Arab horse-dealer of whom he says: âCompared with the Indians, his mein is high, his movements free and dignified, his features strongly cut and resoluteâ. Then there are the Baghdad Jews, the Afghan money-lenders, the Maharashtrians and the Gujaratis.
He is greatly impressed by the Parsis and says: âTo the nervelessness of the Bombay natives one race furnishes an exception â the Parsi. He walks out with his wife â a refined looking creature in a pale, pink or lemon-yellow gown, with a pea-green, crimson-edged shawl passed over her head â to hear the band at sunset, and talks to her as a man might talk to a friend.â
Next to the Parsis, the author admires the Rajputs whom he encounters while visiting Jodhpur as a state guest. After expatiating on the excellent stable kept by the maharajah and his prowess at polo and pig-sticking, he says: âConceiving the British to be the only true sportsmen in the world besides themselves, the men of Marwar are loyal beyond suspicion to the suzerainâ.
Delhi, the author calls âthe most historic city in all historic Indiaâ. He gives a brief account of its beginnings and its fate under different rulers.
There are three Calcuttas, says Steevens. âThe winter capital of India, the metropolis of the largest white population in the country, and the tightest-packed human sardine tin known outside Chinaâ.
The book contains an interesting description of the administrative machinery of the time with the district officer as its pivot. There are chapters devoted to ânative self-governmentâ meaning municipalities, education, justice and the frontier question.
In conclusion, the author calls India a âland of ironiesâ. Other countries, he says, âhave a measure of consistency. They are either wholly civilised or wholly barbarous, affect splendour or accept squalor. India sees stateliness in the filthiest faded silk, shot with pearlsâ.
The last paragraph reads: âIt is far too early to despair of India yet. It is not only the land of ironies; it is also the land of patienceâ. I couldnât agree more!
by Raj Chatterjee
I have in my possession a little book entitled âIn Indiaâ written by one G.W. Steevens and published in 1899. The first sight of India, says the author, is âamazing, entrancing, stupefyingâ. Bombay, where he landed, presented itself to him as a city of âmonstrous contrastsâ. He compares the elegance of the public buildings along the sea front with the lowly huts of matting, thatched with leaves.
He then plunges into a description of the various types of humanity that he sees in the city. He picks out the Arab horse-dealer of whom he says: âCompared with the Indians, his mein is high, his movements free and dignified, his features strongly cut and resoluteâ. Then there are the Baghdad Jews, the Afghan money-lenders, the Maharashtrians and the Gujaratis.
He is greatly impressed by the Parsis and says: âTo the nervelessness of the Bombay natives one race furnishes an exception â the Parsi. He walks out with his wife â a refined looking creature in a pale, pink or lemon-yellow gown, with a pea-green, crimson-edged shawl passed over her head â to hear the band at sunset, and talks to her as a man might talk to a friend.â
Next to the Parsis, the author admires the Rajputs whom he encounters while visiting Jodhpur as a state guest. After expatiating on the excellent stable kept by the maharajah and his prowess at polo and pig-sticking, he says: âConceiving the British to be the only true sportsmen in the world besides themselves, the men of Marwar are loyal beyond suspicion to the suzerainâ.
Delhi, the author calls âthe most historic city in all historic Indiaâ. He gives a brief account of its beginnings and its fate under different rulers.
There are three Calcuttas, says Steevens. âThe winter capital of India, the metropolis of the largest white population in the country, and the tightest-packed human sardine tin known outside Chinaâ.
The book contains an interesting description of the administrative machinery of the time with the district officer as its pivot. There are chapters devoted to ânative self-governmentâ meaning municipalities, education, justice and the frontier question.
In conclusion, the author calls India a âland of ironiesâ. Other countries, he says, âhave a measure of consistency. They are either wholly civilised or wholly barbarous, affect splendour or accept squalor. India sees stateliness in the filthiest faded silk, shot with pearlsâ.
The last paragraph reads: âIt is far too early to despair of India yet. It is not only the land of ironies; it is also the land of patienceâ. I couldnât agree more!