recent overseas wars, in Burma, Java and Malaya.
This did not come as a surprise to Zhong Lou-si. He told me that as long back as the reign of the Jiajing Emperor, the British had brought shiploads of Indian sepoys â xubo bing he called them â to Macau. But Beijing had reacted strongly and the troops hadnât landed. That had happened thirty years ago. Ten years later, in the second year of the present Daoguang Emperorâs reign, the British had come back with another contingent of Indian sepoys. This time they had briefly occupied Macau, before being forced to leave.
Then Zhong Lou-si said something that startled me: he said that at the time Chinese officials had concluded that the sepoys were slaves and the British did not trust them to fight; that was why they had left Macau without putting up much resistance.
But sepoys are not slaves! I protested. Like British soldiers, they are paid.
Are they paid the same wage as red-haired English troops?
No, I had to acknowledge. They are paid much less. About half.
Are they treated the same way? Do the Indian and British troops eat together and live together?
No, I said. They live apart and are treated differently.
And do the Indians rise to positions of command? Are there Indian officers?
No, I said. Positions of command are held only by the British.
A silence fell while Zhong Lou-si meditatively sipped his tea. Then he looked up at me and said: So the Indians fight for less pay, knowing that they will never advance to positions of influence? Is this right?
None of this could be denied. Jauh haih lo , I said: what you are saying is right.
But why do they fight then?
I did not know how to answer: how does one explain something that one doesnât understand oneself?
Something that no one understands? All I could say was: They fight because itâs their job. Because that is how they earn money.
So they are from poor families then?
They are from farming families, I said. They come from certain places in the interior of the country. But they are not poor â many are from families of high rank and many of them own land.
This deepened Zhong Lou-siâs puzzlement: Why do they risk their lives then, if not from necessity?
Look, I said, it is hard to explain, but it is because many of them are from clans â I could think of no word for âcasteâ â that have always made their living by fighting. They give their loyalty to a leader and they fight for him. At one time their leaders were Indian kings, but some years ago it was the British who became the major power. Since then sepoys have been fighting for them just as they did for rajas and nawabs. For them there is no great difference.
But when they fight for the British, do they always do it sincerely, with their hearts in it?
Again I had to stop to think.
It is a hard question to answer, I said. The sepoys are good soldiers and they have helped the British conquer much of India. But at times they have also rebelled, especially when going abroad. I remember that about fifteen years ago there was a big mutiny, in Barrackpore, when a sepoy battalion was ordered to go to Burma. In general the sepoys from Bengal Presidency do not like to fight abroad. That is why the British often use sepoys from Madras for foreign campaigns.
Zhong Lou-si nodded thoughtfully, stroking his white beard. He thanked me for my help and said he hoped we would meet again soon.
Between Kesri and his sister Deeti there was a gap of eight years.Five other children had been born to their parents in between: two had survived and three had died. Yet, even though Kesri and Deeti were the furthest apart in age, they were more like each other than any of their other siblings.
One thing they shared was the colour of their eyes, which was a light shade of grey. For Deeti this had been something of a handicap, for there were many credulous people in their village who believed that light-eyed women were endowed
This did not come as a surprise to Zhong Lou-si. He told me that as long back as the reign of the Jiajing Emperor, the British had brought shiploads of Indian sepoys â xubo bing he called them â to Macau. But Beijing had reacted strongly and the troops hadnât landed. That had happened thirty years ago. Ten years later, in the second year of the present Daoguang Emperorâs reign, the British had come back with another contingent of Indian sepoys. This time they had briefly occupied Macau, before being forced to leave.
Then Zhong Lou-si said something that startled me: he said that at the time Chinese officials had concluded that the sepoys were slaves and the British did not trust them to fight; that was why they had left Macau without putting up much resistance.
But sepoys are not slaves! I protested. Like British soldiers, they are paid.
Are they paid the same wage as red-haired English troops?
No, I had to acknowledge. They are paid much less. About half.
Are they treated the same way? Do the Indian and British troops eat together and live together?
No, I said. They live apart and are treated differently.
And do the Indians rise to positions of command? Are there Indian officers?
No, I said. Positions of command are held only by the British.
A silence fell while Zhong Lou-si meditatively sipped his tea. Then he looked up at me and said: So the Indians fight for less pay, knowing that they will never advance to positions of influence? Is this right?
None of this could be denied. Jauh haih lo , I said: what you are saying is right.
But why do they fight then?
I did not know how to answer: how does one explain something that one doesnât understand oneself?
Something that no one understands? All I could say was: They fight because itâs their job. Because that is how they earn money.
So they are from poor families then?
They are from farming families, I said. They come from certain places in the interior of the country. But they are not poor â many are from families of high rank and many of them own land.
This deepened Zhong Lou-siâs puzzlement: Why do they risk their lives then, if not from necessity?
Look, I said, it is hard to explain, but it is because many of them are from clans â I could think of no word for âcasteâ â that have always made their living by fighting. They give their loyalty to a leader and they fight for him. At one time their leaders were Indian kings, but some years ago it was the British who became the major power. Since then sepoys have been fighting for them just as they did for rajas and nawabs. For them there is no great difference.
But when they fight for the British, do they always do it sincerely, with their hearts in it?
Again I had to stop to think.
It is a hard question to answer, I said. The sepoys are good soldiers and they have helped the British conquer much of India. But at times they have also rebelled, especially when going abroad. I remember that about fifteen years ago there was a big mutiny, in Barrackpore, when a sepoy battalion was ordered to go to Burma. In general the sepoys from Bengal Presidency do not like to fight abroad. That is why the British often use sepoys from Madras for foreign campaigns.
Zhong Lou-si nodded thoughtfully, stroking his white beard. He thanked me for my help and said he hoped we would meet again soon.
Between Kesri and his sister Deeti there was a gap of eight years.Five other children had been born to their parents in between: two had survived and three had died. Yet, even though Kesri and Deeti were the furthest apart in age, they were more like each other than any of their other siblings.
One thing they shared was the colour of their eyes, which was a light shade of grey. For Deeti this had been something of a handicap, for there were many credulous people in their village who believed that light-eyed women were endowed
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