Read Online Hindoo Holiday by J.R. Ackerley - Free Book Online Page B

the pots are brass. I see them through the open doorway of my bungalow, and am often struck by the gracefulness of their carriage as they pass to and fro with these heavy burdens on their heads. The right arm, bare, slim, brown, is raised so that the hand rests lightly against the lip of the jar to steady it, and their bodies glide with an erect and braced, yet easy flowing motion. Elegant they look, like figures in a frieze; and sometimes, coming up behind them as I mount the hill, and seeing their slow-swift, easy-tense movement, the slim dark arm upstretched, and the dhoti tucked up round the loins so that the slender legs are bare in their whole length, I think what grace! what beauty! and, looking round as I pass, see an ugly, coarse-featured, ill-nourished peasant with betel-stained lips.
    I give them cigarettes, and one of them in particular, a strange gawky boy, often catches my eye. I am amused by the way in which he manages his clothes. He has four garments, besides a pair of broken-down shoes—a tight collarless cotton jacket with short sleeves, an abbreviated white dhoti , little more than a loincloth, a pale brown sāfā , or small turban, and a cornflower blue cloak ( pichōra )—and the last three of these seem interchangeable, for sometimes, when perhaps his dhoti is being washed, his sāfā is wound round his loins, and his pichōra round his head. I noticed him gazing wistfully towards my house the other day, so I beckoned to him. He approached obliquely, like a crab, very sun-blackened and angular, his long thin legs bare to the thigh, his coarse blue cloth tumbled anyhow round his head. His face was floury with dust. I held out some cigarettes. He shuffled off his shoes and, after a momentary hesitation, entered timidly, his coarse hands cupped and stretched before him. I dropped the cigarettes into the cup. He retreated and, from the safety of the doorway, wrinkling up his eyes and disclosing hideous stumps of teeth in a grin, murmured “ Bakshish .” I held out a rupee. Again the cup, more quickly this time, was advanced, and I dropped the rupee in. He bent very low upon this, and touched first my carpet and then his forehead with his right hand.
    During our drive in the afternoon His Highness said to me:
    â€œMr. Ackerley, I wish to give you advice.”
    â€œYes, Maharajah Sahib?”
    â€œYou should keep a dog.”
    â€œBut I don’t want a dog.”
    â€œOnly a little one. Any little dog. One of these pie-dogs will do.”
    â€œBut why, Maharajah Sahib?”
    â€œSo that before you eat yourself, you can throw it some of the food.”
    I looked at him in astonishment.
    â€œDo you mean in case it’s poisoned?”
    â€œOf course.”
    â€œBut is it likely to be poisoned?”
    â€œI don’t know; but I am a suspicious man.”
    â€œDo you take such precautions, then?”
    â€œOf course. But I do not like dogs. I keep some cats, and throw the food to them. My cooks are always quarreling.” He chortled. “So I eat with cats,” he concluded.
    â€œWell,” I said, after a little consideration, “I think I’ll take the risk. I can’t imagine why any one should want to poison me. Besides, if I used a dog to prevent myself from being poisoned in that way, it might develop rabies and bite me, so that I should only be poisoned in another way.”
    â€œYou are quite right,” remarked His Highness, without, however, appearing to have heard what I said. But the thought of my comfort remained with him, for, before taking leave of me, he said:
    â€œIf you want anything you must at once tell me. You must not lurk anything from me. Lurk? What does that mean?”
JANUARY 7TH
    I spoke to His Highness yesterday about a tutor for myself (he is very anxious for me to learn to speak Hindi), and taking advantage of some remark of his on Zeus and Ganymede, asked whether I might not have his valet to teach