Read Ebook: Our Little Hindu Cousin by McManus Blanche

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Ebook has 258 lines and 22533 words, and 6 pages

When they came to the street where the silk merchants were, the grandmother and Shriya and her mother got out; for it was here they were going to buy Shriya's pretty silk dresses and long veils, and other pretty things.

"I would rather go with thee, father," said Chola, so he and his father turned into another street. Here were the shops where wonderful gold and silver work was made and sold; and where precious stones were set into all kinds of rich and curious jewelry. The shop of Chola's father was one of the largest in the street, though we would think it very small. It was more like a big cupboard in the side of the street than anything else; and he could reach nearly everything in it without getting up from his seat. The shop had no name or sign over it, nor were there any windows, while no doors were needed because the entire front was open to the street, so that customers could look in to see if there was anything they wished to buy without coming inside.

Chola sat on his heels watching his father as he sat cross-legged on a carpet spread on the floor, putting a beautiful blue turquoise into the setting of a silver necklace. Near to his elbow was a low table on which were piles of precious stones. He liked to come with his father to the Bazaar and watch him make the gold and silver into beautiful things. When Chola was older he would come every day to the Bazaar, and his father would teach him to be a silversmith like himself. Every little Hindu boy follows the same trade as his father.

The Hindus love jewelry of all kinds, and both men and women wear quantities of it. In fact much of their wealth is often put into the form of necklaces, rings, and bracelets, which the women wear all the time. The Hindus think this is the safest way to keep their wealth. So you see why the jewellers do such a big trade in India.

"Father, there's a customer," whispered Chola, but Harajar paid not the slightest attention to a tall man in a long silk robe, with a big turban on his head, who stopped to look in the shop. A Hindu merchant usually thinks it beneath his dignity to ask any one to buy his wares.

Presently the tall man said: "Are you happy?"

"I am happy," answered Harajar.

This is the Hindu way of saying "How do you do?"

Chola knew that this would take all the morning, so he slipped away to a shop a little way down the street, where a big yellow and red awning hung across the roadway.

Nao as quickly caught sight of his friend Chola, and came running up at once. "Oh, Chola," he cried, as he greeted his little friend by touching his forehead and the palm of his right hand, "let us go to where the caravans gather about the city gate; the man with the camels has just told me that all the camels stopped there to rest on entering the city."

"Nay," said Chola, "there are wild, rough doings among the strange men who come down from the hills with the camels. I have heard my father say so."

"Oh, go play with thy sister, then, I will go alone," said Nao, who made out as if he would turn away.

"I am not afraid, I, too, will go and talk with the camel men," Chola answered with spirit. No little Hindu boy likes to be told to stay at home with the girls, because in his country it is a sad fact that little girls are not thought as much of as boys, nor do they have so good a time.

Many of the men carried umbrellas of bright colours. Once only very high and mighty people in Hindustan carried umbrellas, or rather had them carried over them by a servant, but now nearly every one carries one;--and they are needed in a country where the sun shines hotly all the year round. For this same reason the streets are nearly covered in by great spreading awnings drawn from one side to the other and forming a sort of roof.

"See! there must be a juggler over there," said Chola, pointing to a circle of people around an old man with a gray beard.

The two boys pushed into the circle until they were near enough to see what wonderful things the man was doing. He had just put a few seeds into the dust under a small mat. "Behold," he cried, "there will grow up a beautiful flower," and, sure enough, as he lifted up the mat, there appeared a pot, and from the pot there began to grow up a stem and green leaves, until finally it became a tall plant from which unfolded a great red flower. All at once, as the juggler held the plant up for every one to see, the flower changed into a cage containing two white doves, and, when the door of the cage was opened, the doves came out and began to circle about the juggler's head. At this there was a murmur of wonder and surprise from the crowd. The doves entered the cage again; but, as the people looked, the cage and doves and the red flower and the plant with the green leaves all vanished; and the juggler stood on his little grass mat with absolutely empty hands. Nothing could have been hidden about him, for he had on no clothes except a cloth wrapped around his waist.

"Is it not wonderful?" whispered Nao. "There be people who say it is magic; and that there are no such things in sight as the flower and the doves, and that it is all the power of the eye of the old man that makes other people see things as he wants them to see them."

"Nay, it is real magic, and the flower did grow up before us," said Chola. It would be hard for any one to believe otherwise; for it is true that the jugglers of India do the most wonderful tricks, far more wonderful than those we see in our own country, and no stranger can really tell how they are done.

"How will you find your camel-man?" asked Chola, when finally the boys came to the great square where the caravans camped. Everywhere were camels and horses and men in strange costumes.

"He said he would be near the great gate," said Nao, as he and Chola crept in and around the big camels and under them, constantly being scolded by the men for getting in their way. Finally Nao spied his friend sitting lazily smoking in the shade of the gateway, while he watched his camels being unloaded.

"Welcome, oh, little friends," said the big, bluff fellow. "I suppose it is no use to ask thee to share my dinner?" he continued, pointing to the big dish of boiled rice, cabbage, and goat's meat which one of his stable boys had just brought him.

The food smelt very good, but Chola and Nao shook their heads. They knew by the blue turban and dress of their new friend that he was a Mohammedan, and they would rather have starved than eaten food with him; but they were quite willing to squat beside him in the dust in true Hindu boy fashion, and listen to his strange tales of the far-away countries which he had visited, as he ate his meal out of the big bowl. They heard how he had come from the great plains of China, across the snow-covered mountains of the north--the great Himalayas, the highest mountains in the world;--and how his camels had waded through snow-drifts up to their necks. He told them marvellous tales of the great cities of Delhi and Lahore, with their marble palaces and beautiful gardens; and of the great rice-fields of Burma. Sometimes he had crossed the great desert going toward the west, and had seen the splendid city of Bombay, and from there had gone on down the coast where the tall palm-trees grow. He and his caravan had crossed India many times, carrying merchandise from one part of the country to another. The camel-man talked on until he had finished eating and was ready for a nap.

"It must be fine fun to ride a camel," said Nao, as he and Chola made their way back to the Bazaar.

"I think it is much nicer to ride a big elephant, as my Uncle Achmed does when he goes about his lumber yards," answered Chola. "But, Nao, the smell of thy friend's dinner has made me hungry. Let us buy some sweetmeats," he continued, darting across the street to a little booth where there were bowls and baskets filled with all kinds of sweet, sticky things to eat that not only Hindu children like, but all the grown-ups as well. When a Hindu wants a real treat, he eats as many sweetmeats as he can.

Just as the boys got to the booth, a big bull buffalo came snorting along. He evidently wanted sweets, too, for he stuck his head under the awning of the little shop and took a big mouthful of preserved fruit from one of the baskets, at the same time upsetting the contents of another basket over the owner of the little shop, who was dozing among his wares.

"Oh, the thief!" cried the man, jumping up angrily, though he dared not do anything to the animal; for it was one of the sacred bulls from a near-by temple. They were allowed to wander through the streets, though they often robbed the shops in this mean fashion.

"'Tis no laughing matter," said the man, turning to the boys, who could not help laughing at his discomfiture.

Just as they were finishing the last bit, some one came up and touched Nao on the shoulder.

"Who comes here to make my food unclean," he cried, jumping up angrily.

"Hush! It is a little Sahib. Doubtless he knows no better," said Chola, as he looked around and saw an English boy standing by.

"I think those things look better than they taste," the boy said, smiling, as he pointed to the sweets; "but I meant no harm. I only wanted to ask if you could tell me where Colonel Scott lives. I think I have lost my way."

"Ah, every one knows the Colonel Sahib; but the house is far from here; in the street with the great trees near the Chutter Munzil," said Chola.

"Where the roofs look like big gold umbrellas, I know," said the English boy. "My name is Harry, and Colonel Scott is my father. My mother and I have just come from England; but my papa has been here a long time. While he was buying something in one of the shops, I followed a man who had a lot of performing birds; and the first thing I knew I had lost my way." Harry rattled away, glad to find some one to talk to.

Chola could understand him fairly well, for he had been taught a little English at his school.

There are many English people in India, because it is now a part of the British Empire. So it is not surprising that Chola and Harry should meet in this way and be able to talk to each other. Mahala was very much disappointed because he had not been there, too, when he heard Chola tell of his adventures as they ate their supper.

THE CHILDREN'S HOLIDAY

"CHOLA, art thou there?" said little Nao the next morning, peeping in between the mats of the veranda. Nao lived in a pretty pink house next to Chola's, and their gardens joined; so he and the two cousins were great playmates.

"Yes, but I'm busy," said Chola, without looking around. The barber had come to shave his father, and Chola had begged to be allowed to hold for his father the little looking-glass which the barber had brought with him, as he reclined on a rug while the barber shaved him. The barber made his rounds from house to house each day, carrying the tools of his trade with him; and he not only shaved his patrons' faces, but their heads as well.

"There are plenty of men in the street with baskets," returned Chola; but he was beginning to be interested.

"But this man carries a flute," answered his little friend, smiling.

"Oh, it is the snake-charmer!" cried Chola, jumping up.

"I see thou art tired of playing barber. Give me the mirror, and thou mayst run away," said his father.

Out in the street the boys found the man dressed all in bright pink, with a basket on his arm. He had seated himself down in the shade of a tree, and a crowd of children had gathered around him.

Presently he began to whistle on a little pipe or flute. "Look," whispered Nao, as a snake's head pushed up the lid of the basket and crept slowly out. Then another and another followed, until several snakes were crawling and wriggling around in the dust, all keeping time to the music of the flute. Soon the snakes began to climb and crawl all over the man, winding themselves around his neck and arms to the great delight of the children. Finally one of the snakes wound itself around the man's neck; and one around each arm; after which the man piped them back into their basket.

"Thou hast on thy yellow dress. Hast thou been to the temple?" asked Nao, as he and Chola came back into the garden.

"No, I wait for Mahala. Where can he be?" said Chola, running back into the courtyard.

"I cleaned my inkstand yesterday, oh, tardy one!" exclaimed Chola.

"Mine, too, is ready," said Mahala, giving it a final polish as he spoke. "Now we will be off."

To-day was the great holiday for the children. It was the festival of Sarasvati, the Hindu Goddess of Learning, who is supposed to be the especial guardian of children.

The boys were going to the temple to lay their inkstands before the queer image of the Goddess of Learning, as was the custom on this holiday festival.

"Thou art not keeping the holiday," called out Nao, looking up at Shriya.

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