The Hindoos as they Are Part 12

Another, and O! what will come o' me!

And O! what will I do?

That sic a braw la.s.sie as I Should die for a wooer, I trow."

When Bullal Sen first introduced this obnoxious system, which went under the euphonious t.i.tle of the Order of Merit, he little antic.i.p.ated that the very small seed of mischief he then planted would soon grow into a luxuriant tree, and produce an abundant crop of evils, poisoning the very source of domestic felicity. It requires no depth of thought to predict that the evil is destined to die a natural death, as all such social evils are fated to do, when ignorance and superst.i.tion are driven into their congenial darkness. Though many a Hindoo still lives in the sin of polygamy without any particular repentance, yet the irresistible progress of virtue, like that of truth, will ultimately teach him that it is an unsafe foundation on which to build the sober structure of domestic happiness.

The details of the following conversation between a husband, his old mother, and his two wives, placed at the disposal of the writer by a friend, may, he trusts, not be out of place:--

"What is this noise for," exclaims Radhamoney, a widow, (the name of the mother) coming out of the _thacoor ghur_ in which she was wors.h.i.+pping; "this noise, this tumult, this quarrel, this wringing of the hands, these curses will surely drive away Luckhee from the house, it is enough to make the devil fly; you have lost every sense of shame, _mago ma_, your clamour has deafened my ears, where shall I go? one is apt to leave her clothes behind. You have been served right; it was only the other day that Grish, (name of the son) lost 5,000 Rupees in a case at the Burra Adawlut (High Court.) If I be a _Sati_ (chaste woman), I say, you two women (pointing to the two wives) will be beggared and reduced to the condition of _harrees_ (those who carry night soil); in what unlucky hour did these two women enter the house. You are both _Rakhasees_ (female cannibals.) Day by day, sorrow is eating into the vitals of my son, his golden body is being darkened every day; Oh!

_Bidhata_ (G.o.d) you have ordained this for me?" "Ullungo (name of the maid-servant) what is the cause of this uproar?" asks the mother. "_Ma_, what will I say," replies the maid-servant; "the cook _first_ gave the _vath_, boiled rice to Comul," (name of the daughter of the first wife).

"Is this all? nothing more?" continues the mother; "my Bacha (child) has had no food for seven days, being ill with fever. You all know this; the _kobeeraj_ (physician) this morning has ordered some rice for her, whereupon the second wife, all this while roaring and bawling, cursing and swearing, stepped forward and said, it is past nine and my Hurree (her son's name, 12 years old) has not yet got a morsel, his belly has shrunk, and the school time is come; if late, his master will make him stand." Radhamoney, the old mother, or _ghini_, sent for the cook, and enquired if the rice were ready. "Yes, _ma_, Hurree Baboo came into the cook room half an hour ago, and I asked him to take his meal; _chotta ma_ (second wife) prevented him, because I _first_ gave the rice to Comul who was so long ill." "Where is Hurree now?" enquired the old lady. The maid-servant replied "_Chotta ma_ gave him a few pice and told him to go to his school, though he could have eaten rice if he liked."

"Let Grish return home," added the old lady, "and I will tell him to send me to Benares without delay; I am sick of your incessant broils; for giving Comul rice _first_ you two _bous_ fell into a quarrel, and cursed each other so fearfully that you, _burra bou_ (first wife), ate the head of Hurree, and you, _chotta bou_ (second wife), ate the head of Comul's husband."[108]

It was evening, and Grish, the son, returned home from office. Before he had time to take off his office dress, the old mother, impatient to tell him what had occurred during the day, and with tears in her eyes, thus addressed him: "You, my son, have brought the greatest curse on yourself by marrying two wives; to-day the whole family has been starving, and why? because Comul, suffering from fever for the last eight days, had got a little rice this morning, and she ate _first_; _chotta bou_, therefore, prevented her son from eating anything, and sent the little _bacha_ to the school without rice. From what _pajee_ (mean) families have you brought these two females? I can no longer remain in the house.

Under the slightest pretext, like infamous wenches, they not only brawl but curse each other and the son and son-in-law into the bargain. Can Luckhee dwell in such a house? send me to Benares instantly, I can no longer live in such a h.e.l.l of a place. Your wives have made it a regular h.e.l.l." The son consoles the old mother, promising that everything would be done according to her wish, begging her at the same time to eat something, and adding that he does not mind whether his two wives eat or not. After going through the evening service, he slept outside that night, pondering what should be done for the future quiet of the family.

Next day he removed the first wife to her father's house, because the second wife is always the _Zuburdust_, imagining that one hand can never make a clap. But he was sadly mistaken, the deserted wife, continually brooding over her misfortune, at length resolved to put an end to her existence, and accordingly one night took an overdose of opium, and bade a final adieu to the world.

The above story is founded on real life and should serve as a warning to those who under the impulse of pa.s.sion blindly run into a state of polygamy, which is undoubtedly one of the greatest domestic evils among the natives.

FOOTNOTES:

[108] Eating the head means wis.h.i.+ng death. When two rival wives fall out they literally become frantic through anger and jealousy. With shaking hands and dishevelled locks they abuse and curse each other most violently.

XIX.

HINDOO WIDOWS.

The system of early marriage, and the barbarous inst.i.tution of condemning a Hindoo female to a life of perpetual widowhood after the death of her husband, are evils which cannot be too strongly deprecated.

In this country, owing to the prevalence of early marriage and the manner in which it is consummated, a Hindoo does not become a housekeeper immediately after his marriage. The wife generally remains one or two years with her parents, occasionally going to her father-in-law's house for a few days only; her husband pays her a visit now and then, but not without the special invitation of his mother-in-law. The object of such an invitation is evidently to make the son-in-law behave well towards her daughter. For the attainment of this object, as I have described before, no means is left untried. Indeed it has become a proverb among the Hindoos that when a man fares sumptuously, it is said, he has been fed with all the fondness shown to a son-in-law. It has always struck me that if a Hindoo female were permitted to re-marry after the death of her first husband, the affection of a mother-in-law for a son-in-law would not have been so warm as it now is under the existing state of things, which admits of no alternative.

Living under the paternal roof for one or two years after her marriage, a Hindoo girl sometimes becomes a widow,[109]--a state of life which is unspeakably miserable. When a young female of ten or eleven years of age loses her husband, with whom perhaps she had scarcely ever exchanged a single word, she is quite unconscious of the unmitigated misery she is fated to endure for the remainder of her long existence.[110] Deplorable as such a condition undoubtedly is, it becomes doubly miserable from the cold, uncongenial and unsympathetic atmosphere by which she is surrounded, and the uncared-for neglect with which she is treated ever afterwards. Except a mother, who can adequately conceive the thousand and one miseries which are in store for the daughter? It is a gloomy picture from the beginning to the end, and the gloom deepens as time rolls over her devoted head. Cursed be the name of the lawgiver who has made such a cruel ordinance, and cursed the society that has become a thrall to it! Opposed to the feelings of humanity and natural affection, the divine lawgiver of the Hindoos, Manu, expressly enjoins that "although the state of widowhood might be deemed onerous by the fair s.e.x of the west, it would be considered little hards.h.i.+p in the east. Let her emaciate her body, by living voluntarily on pure flowers, roots and fruits, but let her not, when her lord is deceased, even p.r.o.nounce the name of another man. A virtuous wife ascends to heaven, if, after the decease of her lord, she devote herself to pious austerity; but a widow, who slights her deceased husband by _marrying again_, brings disgrace on herself here below and shall be excluded from the seat of her lord. Abstinence from the common pursuits of life, and entire self-denial, are rewarded by high renown in this world, and in the next the abode of her lord, and procure for her the t.i.tle of _sadhvi_ or the virtuous." From the above it is evident that widowhood has prevailed in this country from time out of mind. Its mischievous tendency is apparent in the degraded and corrupt state of female society. We can never thoroughly conquer nature; we can never restrain our pa.s.sions so effectually as to render ourselves proof against temptation. The frailty of women is admittedly great, and the ease with which they may be seduced into the forbidden paths of life is too well-known to need being enlarged on. However sedulously a Hindoo mother may guard the virtue of her widowed daughter, and however forcibly she may inculcate the doctrine of purity of life and manners, it proves but a feeble barrier against the irresistible impulse of pa.s.sion. Numerous instances are on record, proving the utter futility of human efforts to contend successfully against nature in this respect. A young widow may be sent to the holy cities of Benares and Brindabun, where she is not unfrequently removed with her mother or grandmother to spend the remainder of her days in a state of isolated seclusion and religious service, but this is a poor safeguard for the preservation of constancy and virtue. Volumes after volumes have been written on the subject, denouncing in an unmistakable manner the monstrous perversity of the existing system, but the evil has taken such a deep root in the social economy of the people that the utmost exertions must be put forth before it can be wholly eradicated.

The evils of widowhood are not only confined to the endurance of acc.u.mulated hards.h.i.+ps, and self-denials enough to rend asunder the tenderest chord of humanity, but they likewise extend to unlawful connections, and the perpetration of another crime, that of abortion, which is no less revolting in enormity than infanticide itself. Many respectable families, which are otherwise esteemed for their meritorious actions, have more or less sunk in honor from this indelible stigma; a few have even lost their caste and status in society from the above cause. In the primitive state of Hindoo society, when every female other than a wife was regarded either as a mother or sister according to age, irregular intercourse was almost unknown, but in these days of libertinism perfect purity of life is rarely known. Our divine lawgiver, in view to the interests of humanity and female honor, ought to have made proper provision by lending his authority and sanction to a system of widow remarriage within a reasonable period of life. Some such edict would have been alike honorable to our venerable sage, and beneficial to those who are morally and socially most deeply interested in it; but unfortunately his cruel dicta, running counter to the fundamental principles of virtue and morality, have necessarily engendered a rank crop of evils, undermining the very foundation of human happiness.

The benevolent exertions of that high priest of Nature, Pundit Isswara Chunder Vidyasagar, Baboo Keshub Chunder Sen, the Brahmo apostle, and other Hindoo reformers, to promote the cause of widow marriage in particular, and female emanc.i.p.ation in general, have not, it is sad to contemplate, been attended with the measure of success they deserve, simply because the state of Hindoo society is not yet ripe for the innovation. I am, however, sanguine in my expectation that at no very distant future the progress of enlightenment will ultimately bring about the consummation so devoutly to be wished for. It is for the advanced pioneers to endeavour to remove the incrustation which age and learning have formed and tradition and custom enshrined with jealous and sedulous care. Until this is done, a Hindoo widow must continue to mourn her lot amidst the denunciations of a heartless world. Sighs will never cease flowing from her heart so long as she finds herself deprived of the master charm of life. She is now cast amongst the dregs and tatters of humanity. Bereft of the _substance_ of what endears life to a female, she is constrained to cleave to the _shadow_, which is destined to leave her when she leaves the light of life. Losing all hope of worldly enjoyments, she deposits the treasures of her heart in the sanctuary of religion, convinced that to sell the world for the life to come is profitable. It is terrible to contemplate the awful amount of physical and mental suffering with all its varied complications, to which she is doomed; her life is a steadfast battle against misery, her soul soars in a vacuum where all is unreal, empty and hollow, and all the sweet enjoyments of life fall flat on her taste. Her mental strife is never over. She is like a weary swimmer who throws himself back and floats, because he is too much exhausted to swim longer, yet will not sink and let the cold and merciless water close over his head. Her spirit has broken wildly loose from its normal att.i.tude, and her mind is overwhelmed in a surging tide of misery. From the day she loses her husband, she has a new lease of life, and a miserable lease it must be.

She will not cease to lament until her soul itself shall die. If she could say, joy was once her portion, it lighted on her as the bird rests on the tree in pa.s.sing and takes wing, yet she would now say, her existence is so unlife-like that to her death is sweet. She is a poor fallen outcast of humanity. No one can enter into her feelings and views of things. She has no influence, no control over herself, she cannot turn over a new leaf within her own mind. Though society is almost a necessity of our existence, yet she lives wholly alone; a cheerless train of thoughts always haunts her mind, she feels a dismal void in her heart, she finds herself cut off at once and for ever from one most dear to her, no conversation, however pleasant, can bring her consolation or cheat her grief. The tide of settled melancholy threatens her reason. As an outcast, she is religiously forbidden to take a part in any of the social and domestic concerns of life, tending to relieve the ennui of a wearisome existence, and to enliven the mind for a while. She is a living example of an angel sent by heaven to minister to the comforts of man, turned by a cruel inst.i.tution into a curse. Estranged from the affection of those who are, by the ties of consanguinity, nearest and dearest to her, she pa.s.ses her days like a recluse, quite apart from the communion of society. She stares and gazes wildly at every festive celebration, while, as the poet sings,

"The glad circle round them yield their souls To festive mirth and wit that knows no gall."

If she have longings irrepressible and cravings insatiable to lend her hand to any _shoova karma_ (meritorious work), her widowed condition interposes an insurmountable barrier to her partic.i.p.ation therein, as if everything would be desecrated when touched by her polluted hand.

As a sentient being, endowed with all the finer susceptibilities of human nature, is it possible that she should so far forget herself as not to feel the bitterest pangs of despondency at her hopelessly forlorn condition? Driven from the genial atmosphere of a social circle, she drags a loathsome existence in this selfish and unsympathetic world.

Except she that gave her birth, who would deign to look upon her with love and affection? Instead of being regarded, as she a.s.suredly should be, as the soul of simplicity, a living picture of sweet innocence, she is shunned as one whose very presence portends evil. If she possess unaffected modesty and a keen sense of honor and virtue, who is to recognise and appreciate those amiable qualities in a society which is preposterously estranged from all natural susceptibilities? If she have riches what would that avail her, a poor misguided victim of superst.i.tion![111] Her charity, instead of being founded on the catholic principles of genuine liberality shewing a discriminate breadth of view, too often exhibits an unhappy tenacity of adhesion to exclusiveness in the performance of idolatrous ceremonies. If she is placed above the atmosphere of artificialness, it is her misfortune to be surrounded by a concatenation of conventional restrictions which render her life a visible embodiment of helpless misery and anguish, and if she ever appeals, she appeals to the Being who is the only friend of the hopeless and the poor. To attempt to reconcile a widow to her forlorn lot is to tell a patient burning with fever not to be thirsty. Her days are dismal, her nights are dreary.

It was the dread of widowhood, and the unmitigated life-long miseries inseparable from it, that led fifty wives at a time to ascend the funeral pyre of a Rajpoot husband, with all the composure of a philosophic mind. It redounds greatly to the credit of the British Government that its generous exertions have not only struck the death-knell of this inhuman practice, even in the remotest corner of the Empire, but, what is more commendable, endeavoured "to heal the wounds of a country bleeding at every pore from the fangs of superst.i.tion."

Not content with depriving her of the best enjoyments of life which society affords, and the laws of G.o.d sanction, by condemning her to a state of perpetual widowhood, the great lawgiver--the unflinching foe of freedom in females--has further enjoined the strict observance of certain practices that add gall to her already overflowing cup of misery. As has been observed before, she is restricted to one scanty meal a day, always of the coa.r.s.est description, devoid of fish[112]

which is generally more esteemed by an _ayistree_ lady than any other article of food in her bill of fare. She must religiously fast on every _ekadossee_, twice a month, and on all other popular religious celebrations. She must bare her body of all sorts of ornaments, even the _iron_ and the _gold_ bangles, which once const.i.tuted the _summum bonum_ of her life. As an appropriate subst.i.tute for the gold and pearl necklaces, she is enjoined to wear a _toolsee mala_ (a basilwood chaplet), and count a _toolsee_ wood bead roll for the final rest of her soul. She is prohibited from wearing any bordered clothes, a _thayti_ being her proper garment; she is not permitted to daub her forehead with _sidoor_, (vermillion), once the pride of her life when her lord was alive; she is forbidden to use any bazar-made article of food, and to complete the catalogue of restrictions she sometimes shaves her head purposely that she may have an ugly appearance and thereby more effectually repel the inroads of a wicked, seductive world.

If she have any children to nurture, the happy circ.u.mstance affords a great relief to her wearisomely monotonous life. Day and night she watches them with great care, and looks forward to their progressive development with intense anxiety, forgetting in the plenitude of her solicitude her own forlorn condition. Should there be any mishap in their case, it causes an irreparable break-down in her spirit, which is for ever "sicklied over with the pale cast of thought."

It is a painful fact that riches when not properly used have a tendency to corrupt the minds of human beings, and lead them from the path of virtue to that of vice. A wealthy widow who has the command of a long purse more readily falls a prey to the temptations of the world than one who, moving in an humbler sphere of life, has her mind almost wholly engrossed with domestic cares, and the thoughts of a future state of beat.i.tude. "Verily," as Lord Lytton says, "in the domain of poverty there is G.o.d's word."

Considering the endless round of hards.h.i.+p and self abnegations to which she is inevitably doomed by a terrible stroke of fortune, "which scathes and scorches her soul," it is cheering to reflect that she so often s.h.i.+nes brightest in adversity. Indeed she may be occasionally said "to die ten times a day," but her incredible powers of patient endurance, coupled with her high sense of female honor, are deserving of the highest admiration.

FOOTNOTES:

[109] Such a widow is called a _Korayraur_, or one who has never enjoyed the company of her husband. A stronger term of female reproach can scarcely be found in the Hindoo vocabulary. From the day this terrible bereavement occurs she is constrained by conventional rules, in such cases, to put off from her hand the _iron bangle_, but owing to her tender age she is tacitly permitted to continue to wear the gold bangle and a bordered _Saree_ cloth. She is forbidden to use fish--her most favorite dish,--and she must partially fast on every _ekadossee_, or eleventh day of the increase or decrease of the moon. When she arrives at the age of twenty her life presents an unvaried picture of despair and wretchedness. She becomes a regular widow.

[110] It has been justly remarked, and I believe is in most cases borne out by facts, that a Hindoo widow generally lives to a very long age.

Her simple and abstemious habits, her devotional spirit, her scanty meal once a day, her total abstinence from food of any kind on the eleventh day of the increase and decrease of the moon, besides other days of close fast, neutralising in a great measure the effects of every kind of irregularity from whatever cause arising, and the fearful amount of hards.h.i.+ps she is accustomed to endure, all contribute to prolong her existence. Surely her life may be said to extend in the inverse ratio of her misery. It is a common expression used by a Hindoo widow, shewing her contempt of life, "will she ever die? _Yama_, Pluto, seems to have forgotten her?" If the statistics of the land are consulted, it will a.s.suredly be found that Hindoo widows comparatively speaking enjoy a longer life than the adult male population, because the latter is subject to irregularities and other adverse contingencies of life which the former is almost entirely free from. It is not uncommon to see a Hindoo widow of eighty, ninety or a hundred years of age. In short, nature evidently seems to have exemplified in her the symbol of misery a.s.sociated with longevity.

It is also a remarkable fact that idolatry and superst.i.tion chiefly owe their continued influence to the wide-spread ignorance of these female devotees. At a religious festival, nearly three-fourths of the a.s.sembly are composed of widows.

[111] The wors.h.i.+p of _JugG.o.dhatri_ (mother of the world), is performed by a widow for four years successively to forfend the calamity in the next birth.

[112] It should be mentioned here that, except the widows of Brahmins and Kayestus of Bengal, those of lower orders continue to use fish without any scruple. It is a remarkable fact that Hindoo _women_ are more fond of fish than _men_. There are some men, especially among the _Boystubs_, followers of Krishna, who feel an abhorrence to eat fish at all by reason of its offensive smell, but there is not a single woman whose husband is alive that can live without it. When a girl becomes a widow, she can hardly take half the quant.i.ty of boiled rice she was accustomed to take before for want of this, to her, necessary article of food.

XX.

SICKNESS, DEATH, AND _SHRaD_, OR FUNERAL CEREMONY.

As I have said in the beginning that a Hindoo lives religiously and dies religiously, so his last days are attended with a degree of melancholy interest which is characteristic of the religion which he professes, as well as of the race to which he belongs. When a Hindoo becomes seriously ill, the first thing he does is to consult the Almanac as to the stellar mansion of the period, and engage the officiating priest to perform a series of religious atonements, called _sastyana_, for the removal of the evil spirit, and the restoration of health. Mornings and evenings are dedicated to the service, and the mother or the wife of the patient, as the case may be, makes a vow to the G.o.ds, promising to present suitable offerings on his recovery, for which purpose a small sum of money is laid aside as a tangible proof of sincerity. If the patient should be a useful member of the family, enjoying a good income, greater solicitude is, as must naturally be expected, manifested for his sake than for that of an unproductive member; it being not uncommon that a whole family, consisting of eight or ten persons, male and female, depend for their sustenance on the earnings of a single individual,--the inevitable result of a joint Hindoo family. It is customary among the Hindoos, as it is among other civilized nations, that when a person is ill, his friends and relatives come to see and console him. The sick man generally remains in the inner apartment of the house, where the females--the ministering angels of life--watch him and administer to his comfort. When visitors enter the room, they go away for a time, but it must be mentioned that they are not wanting in attention, kind-heartedness and careful nursing. Days and nights of watching pa.s.s over their heads without a murmur, prayers are continually offered to the guardian deity for a favorable turn in the fortune of the family, and available supernatural agency is secretly employed for the attainment of the end. The following conversation will give some idea of the melancholy scene:--

Ramkanto (a neighbour), enters the room, and gently accosts Mohun (the son of the patient.)

Ramkanto, sitting, asks How is your father? I see he is very much pulled down; the times are very bad, I hear of sickness on all sides, when did he get ill? Have you seen the almanac? Have you arranged for _sastyana_ (religious atonement)? Don't you despair. He will get well through the blessing of G.o.d; who attends him?

Brojobundhoo (doctor) replies Mohun.

Ramkanto. Yes, he is a good doctor, but you must have a good _Khobiraj_ also (native physician) who understands the _naree_ (pulse) well; these English doctors do not much care about the pulse.

Mohun--Well, sir, I have engaged Gopeebullub (native physician) to feel the pulse and watch the progress of the disease.

Ramkanto--That is good, Gopeebullub is a very clever physician, though not old, he understands pulsation and other symptoms thoroughly. When does the fever come on? See, how he remains to-day; should the pulse sink after fever, send for an English doctor to-morrow, either Dr.

Charles or Dr. Coates, both are very good doctors.

Mohun--My uncle gave the same advice.

Ramkanto, (taking Mohun aside) Baba, what will I say? To tell you the truth, I have no very great hopes of his recovery, the case is serious, if through the blessing of G.o.d he gets well, it would be a _second_ birth; your father has been a great friend of mine, you all know very well, he is a staunch Hindoo; in these days of depravity, when the customs of the _Mlechas_ (Christians) threaten to obliterate all traces of distinction, and merge everything in one h.o.m.ogeneous element after the English fas.h.i.+on, very few men are to be found like your father, ready to sacrifice his life for the purity of his religion; if his end do not accord with his faith, his future state (_parakall_) is jeopardised; you, young men may laugh at us, old fools, thinking we have no sense; a few pages of English do not make a man learned; English shastra does not make us wise unto salvation; one's own religion is the best panacea for the good of his _parakall_ or future state. If you lose your father, you will never get a father again, he has nourished you with care and affection up to this day; as a dutiful son you are bound to serve him in this his last stage; you must be prepared to take him to the river side when need be, and that is not far distant; if you neglect, you commit a very great sin, quite unpardonable. What do fathers and mothers wish children for? It is only for the good of the _parakall_, and to take them to Gunga (Ganges) in proper time. Let your father pa.s.s three nights on the river side. I return this afternoon; take care, watch him closely and let Gopeebullub see him constantly.

Giving these instructions, Ramkanto goes away. After three or four hours, the fever returns, the patient becomes delirious and talks nonsense, and the wife becoming very uneasy calls the son in a very depressed tone, and tells him to send for the English doctor. The son obeying the order sends for the English doctor at once.