Another phase of life which furnishes to the people an ideal is the ceremonial. Among the myriad gods of the Hindu pantheon and all the sages of its history and legend, there is not one who is worthy to be exalted as an ideal of character. The reason is not far to find. With this, however, we are not at present concerned. It is enough if we remember that this absence of an incarnate ideal in the religion has led to the exaltation of rules and ceremonies as the safeguards of—yea, more, as the very essence of—a worthy and noble life. There is no sadder fact in India at present than that of this great religion, of two hundred and thirty million souls, being largely emptied of moral content as related to the common life, and built up of numberless petty external ceremonies which harass the individual, and grip the life with a dead hand at all points. The ceremonialism of the Scribes and Pharisees in the days of our Lord and which excited His supreme wrath, was not a consequence as compared to that of Hinduism to-day. From conception even to the burning-ground, every detail of life, individual and communal, religious and social (there is no social as apart from religious life in Hinduism), is cast into a mould of ceremony or ritual which robs it of ethical content, and makes it into what an indignant Brahman writer recently called "a huge sham." To the ordinary Hindu, all of life's values are measured in the coin of external rites. Let one be an atheist if he please, or even a libertine or a murderer, and his status in Hinduism is not impaired. But let him eat beef, even unwittingly, or let him ignorantly drink water which has been touched by a man of lower caste than himself, and his doom is irrevocably sealed! Through this whole system the Hindu conscience is perverted, and the true distinction between right and wrong is buried deep under this greatest and most elaborate mass of ceremonial that the world has ever known. To a people who have thus inherited the ceremonial instinct, who are Pharisees by a hundred-fold heritage and by sweet choice, it is not an easy thing for the man of the West, with his natural distrust of all that is formal and outward in life, to present effectively his Lord, whose bitterest woes were pronounced against the formalists of His time, and whose commands are always ethical, and whose life is, first of all, and last of all, spiritual.

Another ideal of life which has too exclusive emphasis in this land is that which is denominated quietism—an ideal which extols the passive virtues as distinguished from the manly, aggressive ones. I would by no means claim that these two ideals are Hindu and Christian, respectively. They are rather begotten of the countries and climes under which the two religions have been, for many centuries, fostered. To the eastern and tropical Christian, the teaching of our Lord furnishes abundant warrant for a glorifying of the passive and non-resisting virtues. And I am inclined to believe that we of the West have few things of greater importance and of deeper religious significance to learn from the East than the appreciation of such graces of life as patience and endurance under evil. We stand always prepared to fight manfully for our convictions, and to obtrude them at all points upon friend and foe alike. It is not in the nature of the East to do this. We say that he has no stamina. We call him, in opprobrium, "the mild Hindu." But let us not forget that he will reveal tenfold more patience than we under very trying circumstances, and will turn the other cheek to the enemy when we rush into gross sin by our haste and ire. His is one of the hemispheres of a full-orbed character. Ours of the West is the other. Let us not flatter ourselves too positively that our assertive, aggressive part is the more beautiful or the more important. Yea, more, I question whether ours is the stronger and more masculine part of life and character; for is it not to most of us an easier thing to fling ourselves in vehemence against an evil in others than it is to sit calmly and patiently under a false accusation, as our Lord Himself did? At least it must be left an open question as to whether the impulsive and domineering vigour of the West is preferable to the "mildness" of the East.

What I wish to emphasize is the dissimilarity between our western type of life and the eastern, and to warn the Christian worker from the West against the danger of assuming that Christian life must be adorned with only those western traits and excellences of character which are foreign and unpalatable to the East—the very fault which also characterizes the Hindu on his side, and which makes him feel so superior at times and so inaccessible to Christian influence. For, let it not be forgotten that the Hindu regards what we call our foibles of petulance, arrogance, and intolerance, with the same disapprobation and disgust as we do their more frequent violation of the seventh, eighth, and ninth commandments of the Decalogue. And who is to decide as to which catalogue is the worse and the more heinous in the sight of God?

IV

The Hindu Conception of Ultimate Salvation presents Another Point of Divergence from the Christian Ideal of Life Beyond

Even in the methods and processes of redemption pursued by the two religions we see fundamental differences. In Christianity, God is the prime Agent in human salvation. He worketh for us, in us, and through us. In our own redemption we are only co-labourers with Him.

In Hinduism, man stands absolutely alone as the agent and cause of his salvation. And, as the stupendous task rests upon his shoulders, it is no wonder that he has sought relief in the doctrine of metempsychosis, whereby it is believed that millions of rebirths furnish to him an adequate time and a sufficient variety of opportunity for the great consummation. But he has never given to himself, or to us, the first reason for believing that this endless fugue of rebirths will accomplish that which he accepts without questioning; namely, the ultimate glorification of all souls. There is nothing in this long and tedious process itself which assures us that any soul will reach final beatification rather than permanent and irremediable degradation. And yet the ultimate absorption of all souls into the Divine is assumed as a matter of course by him. This process, and that of Christianity, are expressive of the characteristics of the two faiths and of the two peoples. The slow and patient East, and the faith which it has begotten, spins out its theory of time and of human existence almost ad infinitum. Multitudinous births alone can satisfy the demands of the tedious process of human emancipation. But, in Christianity, one passage through this world, with human hands clasped in the Divine, suffices to open the door of eternal bliss to the redeemed soul. And this idea is consonant with the more youthful nature of the West, to whose people one birth, followed by a life of energy, furnishes an entrance into eternal joy beyond.

It is equally important that we take note of that which is connoted by the final consummation offered by each of these two faiths to their followers. To the Christian there is a conscious, blessed life beyond death—a separate, personal existence which will last throughout eternity in the sunshine of the Heavenly Father's presence and in the ineffable joy and glory of His fellowship. It is the idealized life built upon the foundation of what is best and most stirring and beautiful here upon earth. It is life, in all that this blessed word signifies of sweet contemplation, of blissful activity, of imperishable love, and of unspeakable joy. All the most beautiful and enticing imagery of earth has been used to portray, or rather to suggest, the "eternal life" of the Christian religion.

But what is the picture which Hinduism has drawn of the finality of life to its followers? After the weary fugue of births and rebirths, with its interludes of many heavens and hells, the "self" passes on into final union with the Divine Soul. It loses all consciousness and self-knowledge; every vestige of personality and all that this implies is swept away; it is incapacitated for every emotion of joy and for every act of service. There is nothing that we associate with life at its best and sweetest which does not find here negation. It is a calm blank, a rest, indeed, but from every struggle of thought, will, and emotion. This is the consummation which India has for many centuries held aloft as an attraction to its weary pilgrims.

Here, again, we observe how appropriate to the end in view is the supreme difficulty of the way. If the highest struggle of the soul in this world is against existence and its human actions and conditions, it is to be expected that a complete riddance of life and of all its accompaniments will be the summum bonum of the final consummation. And if this struggle for emancipation is to continue through numberless births and earthly existences, it is natural that the coveted end should bring a loss of all that life connotes in highest sentiment as well as basest passion. I need not dwell upon the contrast between this and the anticipations entertained by every humble Christian.

This whole eschatological system of Hinduism corresponds, as we have seen, to the teaching of that faith in reference to God, man, and earthly life and conditions. And the Christian preacher's or teacher's vivid portrayal of the Christian's heaven too often denotes to the Hindu only one of the many purgatorial heavens of his religion, and rarely suggests to him the supreme test of the value of our faith as contrasted with his own. The glories of our heaven do not appeal to the stolid, weary, transmigration-ridden soul of the Hindu as they do to the youthful, hopeful, buoyant soul of the Christian. And this is a fact which the missionary would do well to keep in mind at all times.

I might continue the list of the incompatibilities of Hindu and Christian ideals. But I have gone far enough to show, I trust, that the two faiths are at many points antipodal, and that their ideals clash in matters fundamental and crucial.

Further, I wish to repeat that I do not maintain that Christian ideals are always, or even ever, represented in their fulness, or with the right emphasis, by us of the West. Hinduism is an ethnic faith, and it must be weighed and valued by the ideals which the people of this land have imbibed from it and invariably connect with it. Christianity is a world faith, and no one nation or continent can be a full exemplar, or an all-wise interpreter, of its life and ideals. Hence I claim that one of the considerations which demand closest attention from a western teacher, as he imparts his faith to the people of India, is that of the choice and emphasis of ideals which he shall present to them. Let him neither assume, on the one hand, that Hindu ideals are unchristian, nor, on the other, that our western ideals, both in their emphasis and exclusiveness, are the all-in-all of Christian truth and life. Christianity in the East, when it becomes thoroughly indigenous, will reveal and glorify a different type of life from that of the West. It will be less aggressive and assertive, but more contemplative and more deeply pious and other-worldly than anything we have been wont to see in the West.

The day has come when missionaries must study with more seriousness the religion of India, that they may understand its true inwardness and discover its sources of power. Above all, they must be conversant with its highest ideals and understand the relationship of the same to those of their own faith. And they must not forget that they must approach this study with genuine sympathy and appreciation, in order to find the best in Hinduism, as well as to be fortified against its worst features.

Never before did the educated men of this land stand up with more determination for their old ideals, and this is a matter of serious concern to our cause. On the other hand, the most encouraging fact in the realm of Christian work in India at the present time is that of the marvellous place which our Lord has found among the people of the land, especially the educated, as the ideal of life. They will have none of Him as a Saviour, and His death has no significance to them. But His blessed life has become the inspiration and the ideal of life to the cultured classes of India, in a way which is transforming their ethical conceptions and which largely eclipses all other life-influences among them. Herein lies our hope and assurance for India. But what they crave, and what they say they must have, is "an Oriental Christ," a Christ who is not presented in a western garb of life and thought. Herein do we learn a most important lesson for our life-work, as Christian missionaries in this land of the East.



CHAPTER IX

THE HOME LIFE OF HINDUS

The home life of a people is one of the most decisive tests of its character and its state of civilization.

In this chapter I shall attempt only to describe the home life of Hindus. And even within this limitation I can only refer to the general characteristics which obtain among nearly all Hindus, and shall pass by the details, which differ so largely in different parts of the country and among different castes.

It is in the home that the natural religious bent of the Hindu finds its full scope and most touching manifestations. Generally speaking, one may say that the house of a Hindu is his sanctuary, where the tutelar god has its niche or shrine to which daily worship is rendered. There is hardly any event connected with home life which is not religiously viewed and made the occasion of definite family worship. Of the sixteen events in the life of a man, from birth to death, there is not one which is not viewed from a religious aspect, and is not accompanied by an elaborate ritual.

There is hardly a respectable Hindu household in which there is not a shrine containing an idol of stone or of some metal which corresponds in value to the measure of the family's wealth. "Every morning and evening it is worshipped by the hereditary purohit, or priest, who visits the house for the purpose twice a day, and who, as the name implies, is the first in all ceremonies, second to none but the Guru, or spiritual guide. The offerings of rice, fruits, sweetmeats, and milk, made to the god, he carries home after the close of the service. A conch is blown, a bell is rung, and a gong beaten at the time of worship, when the religiously disposed portion of the inmates, male and female, in a quasi-penitent attitude, make their obeisance to the god and receive in return the hollow benediction of the priest."[5]

[Footnote 5: From "Hindus as They Are."]

Even the building of the house is a matter which must be done according to the rules of faith. The selection of a site, the correct orientation of the building, the number and location of the rooms, the proper material for the structure,—all of these must be determined by the Vastu Sastri, or the architects, who do their business not so much on scientific lines as upon religious. They have their Shastras, or books of instruction, in architecture, whose basis is largely a consideration of the supposed sentiments of the gods and a proper harmonizing in the building of various religious conceits, crude superstitions, and immemorial customs.

Even the day and hour of entering and dedicating the house must be fixed by rules of faith, which are as exacting as they are multitudinous. To enter and consecrate a house at the wrong astrological moment would bring in its train a number of domestic disasters. The house may be anything, from a most primitive hut to a many-aisled palace; but in every case the astrologer must be consulted as to the time; the spiritual architect must give his rules as to the structure; and the family priest must make the house habitable by an elaborate ceremonial and offerings to the god or gods of the family.

It is only after all these have been accomplished that a householder may, with a clean conscience, enter his new home and expect a blessing upon his family therein.

To a stranger who passes through the streets of a town or village it may seem strange that no two adjoining houses have exactly the same orientation. He may think it an evidence of carelessness, or a want of taste. But to the Hindu it is the result of pious conformity to the rules of his faith. To a non-Hindu it may seem peculiar that Hindus generally enter their new homes in the first half of the year. But to the Hindu it is the only half when the gods are awake; it would be unpropitious and almost sacrilegious to dedicate a house in that part of the year when the gods are supposed to be asleep!

The Hindu home would not be, to a westerner, either pleasant or convenient. It looks dingy and dark, doors are small and massive, windows are few and generally closed. This is partly because they are intended to keep out the tropical glare, and partly because the people seem averse to occupying an airy room. A westerner would suffocate in a room in which Hindus would delight to spend a night. It has always been a wonder to the writer that they thrive on so little fresh air in their homes.

Hindus, in the main, care very little for elaborate household furniture. Even in homes of wealth, articles of household furniture are few and are chosen merely for utility's sake, save in homes where western ideas are finding their way and a growing desire to ape western manners takes possession of a family. Some years ago, a wealthy Hindu gentleman welcomed the writer into his fine new three-storied bungalow, whose front door was elaborately carved and had cost Rs. 2000. It was furnished with fantastic articles of European furniture. Mechanical toys and speaking dolls had places of prominence; and among the pictures which adorned the walls the place of honour was given to a framed tailor's pattern-plate! A full-sized painting of the late British queen was specially honoured by being kept in a dark closet! The family did not live in this house, but occupied a comfortable one-storied building in the back yard. It was adequate to their needs and in harmony with their tastes.

Hindus generally sleep on the floor. They spread a mat under them, and this suffices for the ordinary man. Many add to this a dirty pillow, which is a mark of extravagance and an evidence of degeneracy. The men of the house may sleep anywhere within, or in the verandah without, according to the season of the year. Recently, western ideas have encroached upon this primitive, sanitary custom, and cots are finding an ever increasing place in the household economy.

The Hindu family system is widely different from that of the West. Among them the Joint Family System prevails universally. It is built on the old patriarchal idea, according to which three generations generally live under the same roof and enjoy a community of life and of interest. When a man and wife have reared a family, the sons bring to the paternal home their wives and live together and raise their families in the common home of their father. The supreme authority, in the direction of all their affairs, rests with the father. And the mother generally takes charge of the household commissariat. The whole income of all the members of the family is brought into the common treasury, out of which all expenses are met. There is no individual property, and no rights and privileges which any one can claim apart from another's in that home. In large Hindu families there is often found a small colony thus living together and dependent for guidance and instruction upon the father. This system entails a great deal of responsibility upon the head, whose authority is supreme. And so loyal is every Hindu to paternal authority that there is never any question raised by any one as to obedience to his commands.

This system has its advantages. In early times, it brought strength and security to households thus consolidated. It is doubtless favourable to general economy. And it has the peculiar merit of developing a strong sense of responsibility in the whole family for its every member, however incapacitated she or he may be for self-support. The weak and the sick and the feeble-minded have the same claim upon the resources of the family as have the others, and the claim is universally recognized. For this reason, poor-houses are not needed in India.

On the other hand, Hindus themselves are coming to regard this system as being out of joint with modern life, under the aegis of a progressive, civilized government. One of its chief defects is its encouragement of laziness in members of families. No one feels that he is responsible for his own maintenance. And no matter how industrious a member may be, the product of his labour is not his own—it belongs to the family. Such a system saps the foundation of industry and enterprise. It furnishes constant temptation to slothfulness and inactivity. In former times, this may not have been so manifest; but at present, when opportunities open wide their inviting doors, and means of accumulating wealth and influence multiply, the system has become a source of discontent and of serious difficulty in the community.

A few years ago the educated Hindus of South India were so exercised over the injustice of the situation that they urged upon the Madras Legislature a new act, called "the Gains Learning Bill," whereby every man might claim the financial results of his own labours and accumulate wealth apart from the property of the family. The matter was fully argued in the Legislature, and the injustice of the Joint Family System was so clearly revealed in this matter, that the bill was carried through. Thereupon, orthodox Hindus raised such a storm of opposition to the bill and decried it so vehemently, as a subversion of their faith and an overthrow of their most ancient and cherished institution, that the governor never signed the bill; and it has therefore never become law.

Nevertheless, the agitation against the system is increasing, and the incongruity of the Joint Family System with modern social conditions is becoming so marked that the day of its overthrow is approaching.

A well-known Hindu writer describes the injustice of this system as follows: "As one of the usual consequences of a patriarchal system, a respectable Hindu is often obliged to support a number of hangers-on, more or less related to him by kinship. A brother, an uncle, a nephew, a brother-in-law, etc., with their families, are not infrequently placed in this dependent position, notwithstanding the trite apothegm, which says, 'it is better to be dependent on another for food than to live in his house.'"

Moreover, this system fosters family dissension. It requires an ideal family, under the strong guidance of an ideal head, to live in peace and harmony under this system. The writer above quoted, himself a Hindu who had long lived under the system, expressed himself strongly upon the subject: "The millennium is not yet come. Seven brothers living together with their wives and children, under one and the same paternal roof, cannot reasonably be expected to abide in a state of perfect harmony, so long as selfishness and incongruous tastes and interests are continually working to sap the very foundation of friendliness and good-fellowship. Union is strength, but harmonious union, under the peculiar regime indicated above, is already a remarkable exception in the present state of Hindu society. On careful inquiry it will be found that women are at the bottom of that mischievous discord which eats into the very vitals of domestic felicity. Separation, therefore, is the only means that promises to afford relief from this social incubus; and to separation many families have now resorted, much after the fashion of the dominant race, with a view to the uninterrupted enjoyment of domestic happiness."

Outside of the family itself, perhaps the two most important functionaries are the family priest and the astrologer. And of these two the latter is doubtless the more influential. It is well known, as I have written on another page, that Hindus are not only firm believers in astrology, but also the abject slaves of this science, falsely so-called, in all the affairs of life. It is wonderful how many events in the life of a family come within the realm of astrological guidance and control. From birth to death, most of the important transactions of life are controlled by astrological considerations.

And with the astrologer we naturally join the sooth-sayer, who is frequently in demand to pronounce his incantations and utter his mantras, to remove all kinds of maladies and misfortune that may overtake members of the family. It is impossible for a Westerner to realize how much of the life of the Hindu, in the home and in society, is circumscribed by superstitions and directed by omens only. In the case of a man setting out upon a journey forty-three different things may happen which prognosticate good, and thirty-four which forebode evil. In household matters, the eye of the Hindu man, and very specially of the Hindu woman, is ever open to any one of a thousand indications that may reveal the will of the god or the demon as to conduct on the occasion.

The position of women in the Hindu home is fundamental, and much misunderstood by the people of the West.

It is sadly true that woman in Hinduism has suffered, throughout the centuries, gross injustice, and has laboured under a thousand disabilities. But it does not follow from this, as those not familiar with Hindu lives are too apt to conclude, that woman is therefore a nonentity and a mere helpless drudge in the family.

It is true that the great lawgiver, Manu, said, "No sacrifice is allowed to women apart from their husbands, no religious rite, no fasting; as far only as a wife honours her lord, so far is she exalted to heaven." In accordance with this, Hinduism has always consistently maintained that woman's well-being is entirely derived from her relationship to man. Her salvation is to be acquired through him. Her glory upon earth and her bliss in heaven and final emancipation depend upon her attitude to him, specially her obedience and devotion.

It is also true, that in no stage of her existence can she be regarded as independent. She is dependent upon her father in childhood, the slave of her husband so long as he lives, and subject to her son during the days of her widowhood. Hinduism leaves her no opportunity, in this human existence, for liberty and independence.

Hindu ideas of womanhood have always been low and unworthy. Rather than being considered a help-mate to man, she has ever been regarded as his tempter and seducer. The proverbs of India are full of these base insinuations concerning womanhood. "What is the chief gate to hell? Woman." This is only one of a host of common sayings which brand the womanhood of India with shame.

It is for this same reason that woman has always been held unworthy of education. To educate a woman is compared to placing a knife in the hands of a monkey. The ignorance of the women of India to-day is not a matter of careless neglect, but rather of studied purpose to deny to them that which might change their relationship of subjection to man.

One might suppose that in matters of religion, which is the peculiar consolation of the woman of India, a wide door of opportunity might be given to her. But here again Manu says, "Woman has no business with the texts of the Vedas; thus is the law fully settled. Having therefore no evidence of law, and no knowledge of expiatory texts, sinful woman must be as foul as falsehood itself; and this is a fixed rule."

There are texts which command kindness and respect to womanhood. But the above quotations represent the tenor of Hindu literature.

All of these represent the attitude of man toward woman in the home. In society, she has had no recognized place whatever, until the present, when, under the influence of western civilization, she is beginning to find a very limited scope for her legitimate activities.

Nevertheless, in the seclusion of her own home, and inheriting the burden of this deep reproach heaped upon her from time immemorial by men, woman has created for herself a place of power in the Hindu home. Within this sanctuary she has erected her throne and reigns a queen. Has man kept her in ignorance? She will therefore apply herself the more assiduously to works of faith and piety. Has he heaped upon her abuse and called her "donkey" and "buffalo"? She has repaid the insult by a loving devotion to her lord, such as has conquered his pride. Whether it be as wife or mother, the women of no other land wield greater power than the much-abused women of India. There is no woman on earth who reveals, at this present time, more devotion and attachment to her husband than does the Hindu wife. The old system of Sati, whereby a woman immolated herself on the funeral pyre of her dead husband, what was it? It was, indeed, a custom instituted by man, enforced by religious rewards and penalties, with a view to reveal the woman as the abject subject of her husband. And yet she glorified that custom and often transmuted it into the most sublime exhibition of wifely devotion. Hear the description of a Sati, given by a Hindu, the subject of which was his own aunt. "My aunt," writes he, "was dressed in a red silk sari, with all the ornaments on her person; her forehead daubed with a very thick coat of sindur, or vermilion; her feet painted red with alta; she was chewing a mouthful of betel; and a bright lamp was burning before her. She was evidently wrapped in an ecstasy of devotion, earnest in all she did, quite calm and composed as if nothing important was to happen. In short, she was then at her matins, anxiously awaiting the hour when this mortal coil should be put off. My uncle was lying a corpse in the adjoining room. It appeared to me that all the women assembled were admiring the virtue and fortitude of my aunt. Some were licking the betel out of her mouth, some touching her forehead, in order to have a little of the sindur, or vermilion; while not a few, falling before her feet, expressed a fond hope that they might possess a small particle of her virtue.... In truth, she was evidently longing for the hour when her spirit and that of her husband should meet together and dwell in heaven. She had a tulsi mala (string of basil beads) in her right hand, which she was telling, and she seemed to enjoy the shouts of 'Hari, Hari-bole,' with perfect serenity of mind. We reached Nimtalla Ghat about twelve; after staying there for about ten to fifteen minutes, sprinkling the holy water on the dead body, all proceeded slowly to the Kultalla Ghat, about three miles north of Nimtalla. The dead body, wrapped in new clothes, being placed on the pyre, my aunt was desired to walk seven times round it, which she did while strewing flowers, cowries (shells), and parched rice on the ground. It struck me at the time that, at every successive circumambulation, her strength and presence of mind failed; whereupon the Darogah (government representative) stepped forward once more and endeavoured, even at the last moment, to deter her from her fatal determination. But she, at the very threshold of ghastly death, in the last hour of expiring life, the fatal torch of Yama (Pluto) before her, calmly ascended the funeral pile and, lying down by the side of her husband with one hand under his head, and another on his breast, was heard to call in a half-suppressed voice, 'Hari, Hari,'—a sign of her firm belief in the reality of eternal beatitude. When she had thus laid herself on the funeral pyre, she was instantly covered, or rather choked, with dried wood, while some stout men with bamboos held and pressed down the pyre, which was by this time burning fiercely on all sides. A great shout of exultation then arose from the surrounding spectators, till both the dead and living bodies were converted into a handful of dust and ashes."[6]

[Footnote 6: "Hindus as They Are."]

The custom of Sati has been outlawed; but the spirit of Sati still dominates the womanly heart of the Hindu wife.

It is this beautiful blending of piety and wifely devotion which has been the song of Hindu poets, and the admiration of the Hindu community, from time immemorial. It is true that a wife dare not utter the name of her husband. The name of the husband of a Hindu woman was Faith. When she came to read the Bible, she skipped this word every time it occurred in her reading. Why should she demean her lord by pronouncing publicly his sacred name?

And yet, when it comes to matters of religion, her stern piety and her religious devotion in the home are the most potent factor of the household; and husband and father will bow to her supremacy in this realm. All public life and social functions have been proscribed to her; therefore, does she see to it that in her narrow home sphere, both religiously and in the training of her children, her influence shall be supreme. And it is.

It is here that the progress of Christianity is much impeded in India. A man is often found ready to change his faith, and to abide the consequence of the same. It is much more difficult for a woman to transfer her affection. But the conversion of the husband will not abide in permanence so long as the wife persists in her devotion to the ancestral faith. The writer has often seen illustrations of this supremacy of the influence of the woman. But it is not always so. In 1823, a Brahman child was born in Calcutta. When six years old, he lighted, by torch, the funeral pyre of his dead father and living mother. When he attained manhood and had received a University education, he became a Christian. He was then not only renounced by his family, but his young wife also spurned and denied him. In accordance with her faith, she regarded and treated him as dead, performed his funeral rites, and, with shaven head, unjewelled body, and the widow's white cloth, mourned his decease as if he had actually died. For Christ's sake he had been an outcast from his people and was twice dead to his beloved. This experience has been repeated a thousand times in India in the case of Christian converts. But, in this particular instance, there was a remarkable denouement. The young man, deserted, divorced, and ceremonially buried by his wife, married a Christian woman, with whom he lived happily for many years. But after her death he returned to his first love and remarried the widow of his youth, who, in the meanwhile, had relented and become a Christian. This was the experience of Professor Chuckerbuthy, of the General Assembly College, in Calcutta, who died in 1901.

Marriage among Hindus differs in many respects from the same compact among western people. It is in no instance dependent upon the initiative of the contracting parties, if such the bride and the bridegroom may be called in India. Neither of them is a direct participant in the arranging of the contract. It is all done by the parents or the guardians of the boy and girl. It is entirely a business, and not a sentimental, affair. No other system would be possible under past and present conditions in India. In the case of infant marriages, the children concerned have, of course, neither knowledge of, nor special interest in, the matter. Even in cases where the future bride and bridegroom have attained puberty, no sentiment is ever allowed to enter, as a consideration, into the matter. The first question asked is whether the parties belong to the same caste and are connected by family ties. If so, the marriage may be a suitable one. It is strange that the children of brothers and sisters furnish the most suitable marriage relationships. But the children of brothers, or those of sisters, furnish a prohibited relationship! It is regarded as improper for a boy to marry the daughter of his mother's sister, or of his father's brother, as it would be to marry his own sister. The marriage of those remotely connected by blood is rarely considered; the marriage of those not at all connected by blood relationship, never.

The next matter of paramount importance is a consideration of the horoscope of the parties. Were the boy and girl born under astrological conditions which harmonize; or does her horoscope so conflict with his that their dissonance would bring evil and misery to the family? In the latter case, a marriage will be impossible, even though all other conditions are most inviting.

Then follows the question of dowry; and here comes the great struggle. The girl's parents have to furnish, with the bride, a considerable dowry, whose size is directly related to the affluence of the boy's family, or to his education and prospects in life. The bickerings which take place in this matter are most unseemly; and the marriage compact is degraded into a sordid, mercenary transaction. Fathers of girls involve themselves in debts which they can never clear, in order to marry their darlings to sons of high families of good connection. It is this difficulty of marrying daughters, save at an intolerable expense to the family, which largely accounts for the universal and keen disappointment of Hindu families when they discover, at childbirth, that a daughter, and not a son, has been born.

The contract having been sealed by definite religious ceremony, the children wait until the girl attains puberty, which may take place at any time, from the age of ten to fourteen. Then the rites of consummation are performed, and they live together as man and wife. Until the marriage is consummated, it is the height of propriety that the parties shall be apart and strangers to each other.

It is very often the case that there is much disparity between the age of man and wife. A married woman is supposed to belong to her lord for time and eternity. A widow is therefore ineligible for remarriage, even though her husband may have died when she was an infant. The man, on the other hand, may contract any number of marriages. The rapidity and the businesslike way with which he proceeds to arrange new nuptials after the death of his wife seems appalling to a Westerner! It matters not how many wives he may have had, nor how old he has become, none but the very young is eligible to become his spouse. The consequence is that many men of matured, and even of old, age are wedded to mere girls.

This is partly owing to the fact that the Hindu has not yet realized the need, or importance, of companionship between man and wife. This is very marked among the educated men of the Hindu community. Not only by age, but also by educational and other qualifications, a wife is in no condition to be a sympathetic companion to her spouse. So that the relationship has, to them, little of mutuality in it.

The lot of the Hindu widow is, proverbially, a hard one. She is despised and hated, even though she be but a child, because her husband's family persist in believing that his death was caused by her adverse horoscope. She suffers every obloquy in her husband's home, is deprived of her jewels, has her head shaven, and is clothed only with a coarse white cloth. Her fastings are long and severe, and she is not allowed to attend any festivity; for the presence of a widow would be deemed an evil omen and a curse.

Moreover, she is the object of suspicion, and is frequently the prey of men's passions. It is a strange comment upon the religious perversity of a people of the tender domestic nature of Hindus, that they should deal with so much cruelty and such apparent indifference to the bereavement and suffering of the unfortunate widow who bears so tender a relationship to them. Religion has never wrought greater cruelty and injustice to any one than to the Hindu widow, specially to the child widow. And, notwithstanding the fact that these suffering ones are a great host in this land, there are few of their people who raise their voice in their defence or strive for their relief.

The relationship of son-in-law and mother-in-law is always a strained one. The wife's mother may live with her under very decided limitations. It is not permitted to her to eat in the presence of her son-in-law, or to enter a room where he happens to be!

The situation is still worse between the daughter-in-law and the mother-in-law. The vernaculars of India abound in proverbs which illumine this relationship and reveal its strange character. The husband's mother apparently delights in nothing more than in exercising a cruel restraint over her son's wife. Nothing that the young woman can do will please her. And the husband too often sides with the older against the younger woman. When, however, the situation becomes intolerable to the wife, she takes French leave, and goes home to her parents. This soon brings her husband to terms; and it is etiquette that he go and ask her to return, apologizing for the troubles that she has endured. And so the situation is improved, for a while, until another visit to her parents becomes imperative. It is natural enough that the mother-in-law should thus deal harshly with her daughter-in-law; for is it not her revenge for the similar treatment which she received many years ago as daughter-in-law? The real attitude of the Hindu toward his wife is doubtless more cordial than it appears to a Westerner. He seems to delight in revealing an indifference to her feelings and a contempt for her position. In the household, she is not permitted to eat with him; she must wait upon his lordship and take the leavings of his meal. Upon a journey, it would be gross impropriety for her to walk by his side. Etiquette demands that she walk behind him at a respectable distance of, say, ten paces.

The love of jewellery is a marked passion with the women of India. Millions of money are expended every year in the manufacture of female adornments. And in this work there are more than four hundred thousand goldsmiths constantly employed. The wealth of a family, especially among the middle classes, is largely measured by the amount of jewellery which the women of the household possess. No one would grudge to these women a certain amount of these personal ornaments; but when it becomes a mad craze to convert all their wealth into such vanity, and thus to render their wealth entirely unremunerative, it becomes a serious matter. The loading down of a woman or a girl with precious stones, gold, silver, or cheaper metal, adds anything but attractiveness to the person. It gives them a gross conception of personal attractiveness as well as a monetary value to beauty, which degrades the ideals of the country. When a woman's ears and nose, the crown of her head, her neck, arms, hands, waist, ankles, and toes are made to sparkle with the wealth of the family, and to bear down the frail body of the proud victim, they cease entirely to set off the personal beauty of the woman herself, and become rather a counter attraction; and she is admired not for what she is, but for what she carries.

Moreover, it is well known that these women are not satisfied, on public occasions, to wear their own jewels only; they borrow also those of their neighbours and shine with a borrowed light, which reflects a great deal more their vanity than their beauty. Many a time has the writer seen bright little Brahman girls carrying upon their person the combined glittering wealth of several families upon festive occasions. Add to this again the fact that there are thousands of women and children murdered in India every year for the sake of these personal ornaments which they flaunt before the public, and with which they tempt criminals.

It is claimed that higher-class Hindus are cleaner in their personal habits than almost any other people on earth. This is probably true, so far as a multiplicity of ablutions can make them. The religious washings of the Brahman are so frequent as to make him largely immune to epidemics of cholera and other filth diseases. And yet the lower classes of the people, in their homes and elsewhere, have little to boast of in the line of cleanliness. They all aspire to the weekly oil-bath, which is doubtless a wholesome thing in the heat of these tropics, where, through paucity of clothing, the skin is much exposed to the sun's rays. But oil has well-known attractive powers for dust, filth, and vermin too!

It must also be remembered that the Hindu is given much more to seeking ceremonial than sanitary cleanliness. It matters not how filthy the water may be, chemically; if it be ceremonially clean, he uses it freely. If it be ceremonially polluting, it is eschewed. As one sees a village community make all possible uses of the village pond, he wonders why the whole village has not been swept away by disease. They are saved from their folly, doubtless, by the piercing, cleansing rays of the tropical sun.

Hindu clothing is both beautiful and admirably suited to the tropical climate. The one cloth of the Hindu woman, which she so deftly winds around her body, and which is usually of bright colours, is perhaps the most exquisitely beautiful garment worn by any people. And this is altogether adequate to her needs. Unfortunately, western habits are now coming into vogue, and, in the case of men and women alike, the clothing of the West is partially supplanting that of the East. Nothing could be more unfortunate, from the standpoint of health, beauty, and economy.

The culinary arrangements and the cuisine of the Hindu home are somewhat elaborate. Well-to-do Hindus, notwithstanding many caste restrictions, are somewhat epicurean in their tastes, and live well. As we have seen in the chapter on Caste, there are many limitations placed upon the selection of food, the method of its preparation, and of eating. Meat is entirely banned by the highest castes. None will touch the meat of the bovine kind, save the outcast Pariah. All are very particular in seeking seclusion for their meals. This is perhaps the reason why the Hindu home is, generally speaking, so much more secluded than that of other people. Hindus believe that fingers were made before knives, forks, and spoons. Consequently they eat their food entirely with their fingers. It seems offensive enough to Westerners. It has often taken away the writer's appetite as he has feasted with them, to have the cook dole out his rice to him with his bare hands! They eat entirely with their right hand, and never touch the food with the left, reserving that hand for baser purposes.

In wealthy families, household duties are performed by many servants. It is amusing to see how many servants are required in India to perform the ordinary functions of one able-bodied servant in the West. The services which a Hindu will demand from his menials are far greater than those of a healthy Westerner. His languid nature and general effeminacy make him entirely dependent upon his servant for most of the activities and amenities of life. Recently the writer heard a Hindu companion in a railway car call his servant at night from an adjoining car to come and turn the shade over the compartment lamp that he might have a nap! A well-known writer, in describing the life of a Babu, says: "The Khansama of a Babu is his most favourite servant. From the nature of his office he comes into closest contact with his master; he rubs his body with oil before bathing, and sometimes shampoos him,—a practice which gradually induces idle, effeminate habits and eventually greatly incapacitates a man for the duties of an active life. Indeed, to study the nature of a 'big native swell' is to study the character of a consummate Oriental epicure, immersed in a ceaseless round of pleasures, and hedged in by a body of unconscionable fellows, distinguished only for their flattery and servility."

During times of sickness, the native doctor is in requisition. This functionary is not without his merits; for it is a hereditary profession, and not a little medical wisdom and experience have been transmitted from father to son down the centuries. Nevertheless, as compared with modern science, the ignorance of these men is woful, and the unnecessary loss of life through that ignorance is lamentable. Their pharmacy is as defective as many of their remedies are absurd and disgusting. The present government, by multiplying its hospitals and dispensaries, has done much to arrest disease and remove suffering. And yet the remedies do not reach one-tenth of the population. And many of the one-tenth are so suspicious of western science that in their extremity they will pass the well-equipped government hospital and its diplomaed attendants in order to consult the native doctor and to partake of his concoctions. One of the reasons for this prejudice is the largeness of the dose which the Indian doctor invariably supplies. How can the diminutive doses of the white man and his establishment remove important difficulties and heal serious diseases? The writer has known not a few well-educated Indian Christians living under the shadow of a well-equipped missionary hospital which furnished its medicines free, sneak away a few streets beyond to consult the man who is a compound of a quack and an astrologer. And yet, doubtless, the new pharmacy of the West brings healing in its wings to millions of this people annually; and it is one of the causes for the rapid increase of the population.

At childbirth, the barber's wife is always called. She is the midwife of India, and the poor Hindu wife who is about to become a mother is the victim of the ignorance and stupidity of this woman. It is no wonder that so many die in childbirth or survive only to become invalids through the remainder of their lives. To remove this serious evil, government is putting forth strenuous efforts to bring intelligent relief to the mothers of India.

The entrance of death into a Hindu family brings, as elsewhere, inexpressible sorrow. The women of the family resign themselves to their grief, which is expressed by loud wailings, with beating of their breast and tearing their dishevelled hair. While professional wailers are rare, nevertheless friends and relatives congregate and add volume to the dirge of sorrow. The leading women mourners will often express in weird chant and appropriate words their praises of the virtues and the beauties of the departed ones. The men of the household mourn in silence, as it is not fitting that the man should audibly express his sorrow in public.

Hindus make immediate arrangements for burning or burial as soon as death has occurred; so that, usually, the funeral services are over within twelve or eighteen hours after death. This is desirable, because of the Hindu custom of fasting so long as a corpse remains in the house; and is also necessary because of the speedy decomposition of the body in the tropics. It is also made possible by the fact that Hindus do not use coffins.

It is the custom of most of the higher-caste Hindus to cremate their dead; while many of the lowest castes and outcasts resort to burial. Cremation would doubtless be the more sanitary method, if the fire were not so inadequate in many instances. The Hindu burning-ground is a place of ghastly and disgusting interest.

Funeral ceremonies do not terminate with the burning or with the burial of the body in Hinduism. The ritual connected with the dead, which is called Shradda, is, among the higher classes, a most elaborate and complicated one, and lasts, with intermissions, for a year. These are conducted with much effort by, and at great expense to, the oldest son of the family. And a great significance is attached to their rigid performance. It may be regarded as a part of the great ancestral worship of the East.

The function of this ceremony is also kindred to that of Roman Catholicism, which, through prayer and offerings, seeks the release of souls from Purgatory. By this ritual, which involves also gifts to Brahmans and priests, the son makes more easy the pathway of the departed parent through the shades into the realms beyond, and relieves the departed soul of its encumbrances and facilitates its progress toward bliss. By some it is claimed that these ceremonies, when rightly performed, render unnecessary his suffering in hell or his returning to this world for rebirth. It is more likely that the purpose is to reduce the suffering and to enhance the progress of the soul between this birth and the next. In any case, all orthodox Hindus regard the Shradda ceremonies as possessing great virtue and high importance. And this is one of the principal reasons why every Hindu man and woman is so eager for the birth of a son in their family. Without a son, who is there to relieve their soul from destruction, and to bring to them future peace and rest through the Shradda ceremony? Thus parents ever pray for male offspring; and the greatest disappointment in the life of a Hindu woman is not to be able to present her lord a son to solace him in this life and to assist him through the valley of death. One of the questions asked by the dutiful son, as he performs this laborious ritual, is,—

"O my father, my grandfather, my great-grandfather! Are you satisfied? Are you satisfied? We are satisfied."

If any son, by the dutiful performance of offering and ritual here upon earth, can bring help and peace to his dead ancestors, the Hindu son may be expected to succeed.

The following, taken from an ancient Sutra, is regarded as a Hindu burial hymn:—

"Open thy arms, O earth! receive the dead With gentle pressure and with loving welcome. Enshroud him tenderly, even as a mother Folds her soft vestment round the child she loves. Soul of the dead, depart! take thou the path— The ancient path by which our ancestors Have gone before thee; thou shalt look upon The two kings, mighty Varuna and Yama, Delighting in oblations; thou shalt meet The fathers and receive the recompense Of all thy stored-up offerings above. Leave thou thy sin and imperfection here; Return unto thy home once more; assume A glorious form."



CHAPTER X

KALI YUGA—INDIA'S PESSIMISM[7]

Many nations, during the period of their infancy and ignorance, have given to Time and its divisions the power and qualities of life and have clothed them with moral purpose and attributes. Chronos was to the Greeks of old the god of time, in whose hands were the destinies of men. Even up to the present day not a few ignorant people of Christian lands are influenced, to some extent, by an inherited superstition about "lucky" and "unlucky" days. But I know of no land which is suffering more than India from traditional, false, and injurious conceptions of chronology. Time is here endowed with life and enthroned among the gods. Sivan is "Maha-Kalan," the great incarnation of Time, and the mighty destroyer of all things. It is also said that "Time is a form of Vishnu."

[Footnote 7: This chapter is a modified form of a lecture delivered to Hindus.]

We are told that we are living in Kali yuga, and that we are subject to all the evil which is the permanent characteristic of this iron age. I believe that there are few things in India which so thoroughly influence the life, habits, and character of the people as do their many conceptions about chronology. And I am convinced that incalculable good would come to the country if all these old and exploded ideas were to give way to more rational ones—such as are in harmony with modern intelligence and civilization.

Consider, then, the various aspects of the chronology which all but universally prevails in India in order that we may see wherein it touches the life and moulds the thought of educated and uneducated alike.

I

The Astounding Length of the Chronological System

In ancient Vedic times there obtained here, so far as we can see, much more sober views of chronology than at present. It was much later that the imagination of Hindu writers took full wing and carried the people into the all but infinite reaches of Puranic chronology. One must wait for the elaboration of Vishnu Purana, for instance, in order to meet that apparent sobriety of mathematical detail which is utilized to add credibility to the most fantastic time system that imagination ever devised.

Christians of the West have doubtless erred on the side of excessive brevity in their theories and beliefs about the beginnings of history and especially in their attempt to locate the origin of the human race. Until recently, it was thought that our human progenitor, Adam, was created no more than sixty centuries ago, and that the whole history of mankind is consequently confined to that brief space of time. In the same way the practical mind of the West has pictured to itself the termination of human life and history upon earth at some not very remote date in the future. Science has already shown the error of the former, as history is likely to demonstrate the falsity of the latter theory.

But India has, with much greater daring and with more of unreason, carried back many billions of years the origin of mankind and has painted vividly a future whose expanse is as the boundless sea.

We are now, it is said, at the close of the first five thousand years of Kali yuga. And this same yuga, or epoch, has 427,000 years still in store for us and our descendants! Before it arrived, the other three yugas—Kritha, Tretha, and Dwapara—had passed on; and these, together, were equal to more than ten thousand divine years, or to nearly four million human years! These four epochs equal a total of 4,320,000 human years, and this is called a "maha-yuga." This in itself would stagger the practical mind of the West. But it is only the very threshold of Hindu chronology! There are seventy-one of these great epochs in a "Manuvanthara," or the period of one Manu, or human progenitor. And there are many of these Manus with their periods. For instance, there are fourteen of them required in order to cover the time called "Karpa," or one day in the life of Brahma. And after Brahma has spent his modest day everything is destroyed and his godship spends an equal period in sleep and rest. Then begins another Brahmaic day, in which a new succession of Manus spend, with their progeny, their interminable epochs. And thus one series of epochs follows another, sandwiched in by equally long spaces of lifeless darkness. And this goes on until Brahma has completed his divine life of one hundred years; and then comes the final dissolution. Having gone on as far as this, there is no reason why the imagination should rest at this point; and so Vishnu Purana, which, of course, is composed in praise of that god, claims that one day of Vishnu is equal to the whole life of Brahma!

No one can bring within the range of his thought or imagination one tithe of the years, divine or human, which are included in this marvellous chronology. A billion years are but as a day to the Hindu mind.

And if any one is anxious to know the exact place at which we have arrived in this chronological maze, the same Purana informs us that we are five thousand years advanced in the Kali yuga of "Varaha karpa," or the first day in the second half of Brahma's life. And thus we are supposed to live not far (say a few billion years!) from the middle of the Hindu chronological system. One may better realize the length of the system if he remembers that we have yet to spend of the present Kali yuga alone more than seventy times the whole of the old Christian chronology from Adam to the present time! And yet, as compared with the whole system described above, Kali yuga is less than one day in a thousand years. And that largely measures the difference between the imagination of the West and the same developed faculty in the East!

It is quite unnecessary to say that the prehistoric Manus of previous yugas are absolutely imaginary creatures, since history can tell us practically nothing about the head of our race, even in the present Hindu dispensation. There is not a line of history or of reliable tradition that will enable us to reach farther back than five or six thousand years in this quest for the origin of our race. There was, of course, a beginning of human life on earth; and we may, just as we please, call the progenitor "Manu" or "Adam." But, according to the Hindu chronological system, six thousand years only carries us just back into the last yuga, and is as but yesterday in the march of the divine aeons of the past. Certainly, writers whose productions are unreliable as a guide to the events of the past century or two are only indenting upon their imagination when they descant upon the chronological data of the Puranas.

One of the principal evils connected with this measureless time system is found in the fact that it helps to destroy the confidence of all intelligent men in the historicity of characters and events which would otherwise be worthy of our credence. For example, the question is asked whether such a man as Rama Chandra ever existed. We at once reply in the affirmative; for does not the Ramayana dwell upon his exploits, and are there not other reasons for believing that such a hero lived in ancient times in this land?

And yet when the Puranas tell us that this same Rama received his apotheosis and appeared as an incarnation of Vishnu in the Tretha yuga, say one or two millions of years ago, we are astounded at the credulity of those who could write such a statement as well as those who can accept it; and we are led to question whether, after all, Rama ever existed or is simply a poetic conception carried far away into an imaginary time. Thus the chronology of the land tends to cast a cloud of doubt and suspicion over all that is historical, traditional, or legendary in the literature of the people.

Still greater than this is the unfortunate influence of such a system upon the people themselves, in helping to destroy any appreciation that they would otherwise have of historic perspective. It is well known that the people of India have throughout the ages been the most wanting in the ability to write and soberly to appreciate historic facts.

They are great thinkers and wonderful metaphysicians, but they are not historians. The meagre history of India which has come down to us was not written by the people themselves. Not until recently, and then under the influence of western training, did any reliable book of history emanate from the brain and hand of a native of this land. All that we know of the ancient history of India comes to us in two ways. It is known indirectly through the language and literature and ancient inscriptions of the past. Historians of to-day have to study the science of language, and especially the growth of the Sanscrit tongue; and, through an intimate knowledge of the same, they arrive approximately at the time in which many of the most important books of the land have been written and at the dates of the events narrated in them. Or they may be helped, to some extent, to learn this history by a study of the teachings of the books themselves, which may indicate the time in which they were written. A few inscriptions and coins give the dates of certain reigns, which thus bring us directly and briefly into the correct era of certain important events.

But the bulk of the history of India comes through foreigners. At different periods in the history of the land men of other nationalities visited India and then recorded their observations concerning the country and the people. The Greeks were great travellers and keen observers in ancient times. They came to India and left in their books such statements about the land as assist us to understand its condition at that period. Then the Chinese, in the early centuries of the Christian era, visited this land and recorded in their works much of interest about the social and religious condition of the people. Later, the Mohammedan conquest brought many foreigners into India, and some of the writers of Islam give us further insight into the affairs of the country. From the fifteenth century the Romish missionaries have conveyed, through their reports to Rome, much of information concerning the people and their life. And thus the history of India has largely depended upon the keen and careful observations and statements of men of other lands who came here for travel, trade, or religion. But Indians themselves have, at no time, contributed to this most important department of literature. We may search in vain for even one volume of reliable history out of the myriad tomes of embellished narratives which have emanated from the fertile brains of the men of India. How shall we account for this strange and very striking fact? It must be, in part, owing to the innate passion of India at all times for poetic embellishment and exaggeration. A cool, scientific, unadorned statement of a fact or of an event has never satisfied the soul of the children of the tropics. Hence, the history of the past becomes legend, human heroes are painted as divine, and epochs and eras are lengthened out to almost eternal proportions.

Now the most serious result of all this is that the people have come firmly to believe that these wild exaggerations, which were written by some dreamy poets of the past, are the sane and cool expressions of simple historic fact; and thus they have largely lost the true sense of historic perspective, are unable to distinguish between fact and fancy, and are strangers to the lessons of the past. For it must be remembered that the teachings of former ages, and especially the life-lessons and character-influences of those generations of men, have less and less of significance to us the farther we throw them back into the dim and hazy realm of the prehistoric and legendary. The near past, with its familiar voices and its heroes of real flesh and blood, brings to us an appeal to life and noble endeavour to which we are always glad to respond; while the remote characters of myth and of legend neither impress us with their reality nor inspire us to a higher and better life.

And, in the same way, these immensely drawn-out aeons of the past make it impossible for those who believe in them rightly to appreciate the significance and importance of the present. One's presence in the world and the value of his best activity for the world's good can mean something to him if he appreciate the fact that there is no great distance to the very beginning of human history. Though his span of life is small, it nevertheless has a definite relationship to the whole of history, and there is some encouragement for a man to work for the good of his race. But this encouragement dwindles into nothingness when a man believes in those many aeons of human life, each aeon being in itself an immense reach of billions of years.

II

The Cyclic Character of Hindu Chronology

A very unique thing about this chronology is that it revolves in cycles. Each maha-yuga is composed of four yugas, and these are ever the same series and of the same character. We pass on through the long vista of Kritha, Tretha, Dwapara, and Kali only to begin once more on the same series; and thus forever we move in this four-arc circle without ever getting outside of it. It is claimed that this cycle of yugas has already revolved about twenty million times and will go on spinning twenty million times more, attaining nothing and going nowhere. It is enough to make one dizzy to think of this mighty chronological wheel, spending 4,320,000 years for every one of its forty million revolutions, with nothing to vary the monotony of these ever recurring epochs!

The first question which one would naturally ask, after assuming the truth of this breathlessly long system, is whether it could forever return upon itself after this fashion. Is there no progress in time? Is it true, in this sense also, that "there is nothing new under the sun"? While other people are refreshed by the sense that they are moving forward and upward in the fulfilment of some great destiny, are ever adding new increments to their wisdom, and are rising higher upon "their dead selves" to ever nobler achievements, is it right that the people of this great land should be doomed to think that there is no permanent advance for India, but that she alone must forever return whence she started and repeat the weary cycle of the past?

As a matter of fact, no people can be thus tied down to any mechanical order of time. Every race and nation is either making for progress or for degeneracy. It will never return to its old moorings. The past has told upon it. It has accumulated some wealth of knowledge, of experience, of character, which, as the centuries roll, brings it farther on in its career. It is true that a nation, like a man, may have lapses by which it may fall down a step or more in the ladder of its upward progress. But this cannot be a necessity of its nature or a relentless law of its being.

This chronological system also accounts for much of the pessimism that pervades the minds and depresses the heart of the people of India to-day. It is everywhere claimed that the best things of India were found in the remote past. But, you ask, will not the Sattia yuga—the golden age—return again? Oh, yes, it is next in the procession, we are told. But we must not forget that there are about 427,000 long years before this Kali yuga comes to an end. Even supposing that the doctrine of transmigration is true, and that the soul of man must pass through many reincarnations; who can be expected to hold on to courage and hope through nearly half a million years of dreary existence? What India sorely needs to-day is a conviction that she is moving onward—that there is but one yuga in her calendar, and that that is the yuga of opportunity to rise to higher things. Thus alone can she be stimulated to her best efforts and most worthy activity.

In this connection we must not forget another aspect of these changing and ever recurring ages of the puranas. Each yuga, maha-yuga, and karpa is followed by a period of more or less complete destruction. The achievements of each period are forgotten, because its results are obliterated or consumed by a mighty cataclysm. And thus no gain acquired in any past age is available for the coming epoch. In this way, the whole idea of the puranic chronology is the most effective ever devised by man in any land to bring discouragement and despair into the heart of the people who live under it. Whether we look at the absurd length, the discouraging cycles, or the destructive cataclysms which are an essential part of the system, one and all bring in their train depression, stagnation, and the spirit of reckless waste. While we recognize that this chronology is a natural product of the dreamy, patient soul of the East, the most important fact for us to remember is that it also perpetuates and accentuates the very evil which gave it birth.

III

The Moral Characteristics of the Hindu Time System

This, doubtless, is the most striking feature of this chronology and gives it a larger influence than any other in the thoughts and life of the people of this land. And I really believe that it is more deleterious in its influence upon the Hindu character than anything else connected with this system.

According to this chronology, in its most elaborated form, every day, yea, every hour as well as every yuga, or epoch, has its peculiar moral character assigned to it. It is well known that the first era in the maha-yuga is called Sattia yuga, or the era of truth. During this period the cow of righteousness stands upon four legs, and all living beings are good, beautiful, and happy. This indeed is the golden age of Hinduism. But, alas, its last departure was some four million years ago, and it will not return, they say, for nearly half a million years more. Then it is followed by "the silver age," in which the cow is said to stand on three legs only! In other words, virtue and happiness have suffered diminution, and evil and misery have crept into human life. If in the previous age asceticism was the crowning glory, in this second age knowledge is supreme. This is said to be the time of Rama's exploits and trials.

We then come into the bronze era, the so-called period of Krishna's incarnation and "goings." The poor cow of virtue has suffered still further limitations and has but two legs to stand upon in this yuga! This is called the age of sacrifice—the time when sacrifice has preeminence as a source of power in salvation.

Then we come down to the iron age in which we have the supposed infelicity to live. This is the time of evil, par excellence, in which the cow has been reduced to the last extremity and has to stand upon one leg! The gradual deterioration of the ages finds here its culmination. Of this fourth age there is a description in the Vishnu-purana, which is translated as follows:—

"Hear what will happen in the kali yuga. The usages and institutes of caste, of order and rank, will not prevail, Nor yet the precepts of the triple Veda. Religion will consist in wasting wealth, In fasting and performing penances At will; the man who owns most property, And lavishly distributes it, will gain Dominion over others; noble rank Will give no claim to lordship; self-willed women Will seek their pleasure, and ambitious men Fix all their hopes on riches gained by fraud. The women will be fickle and desert Their beggared husbands, loving them alone Who give them money. Kings, instead of guarding, Will rob their subjects, and abstract the wealth Of merchants, under plea of raising taxes. Then in the world's last age the rights of men Will be confused, no property be safe, No joy and no prosperity be lasting."

"Women will bear children at the age of five, six, or seven, and men beget them when they are eight, nine, or ten. Gray hair will appear when a person is but twelve years of age, and the duration of life for men will only be twenty years."

Now the idea in all this is that each yuga, or era, has its fixed character. Rather than that the men of a yuga should impart their character to the age in which they live, the age itself has a pronounced moral bent which is transferred to all who happen to live under it. Thus we see in the theory a perversion and contradiction of the facts; for an ethical character is assigned to days and hours rather than to moral beings, who alone are capable of such values.

Therefore, for a thorough consideration of the system as a whole, it is only necessary that we consider the character assigned to this evil age in which we live. There is nothing more deeply wrought into the consciousness of the people of this land at the present time than the conviction that this time in which we live is indeed Kali yuga, that it is irremediably bad, and that it taints with its own character everything that has life.

Pandit Natesa Sastri remarks: "In India when a young boy or girl happens to break, in eating or dress, the orthodox rules of caste, his or her parents will say, 'Oh! it is all the result of the Kali yuga.' If a Hindu becomes a convert to any other religion, or if any atrocious act is committed, the Hindu will observe, 'Oh! it is the ripening of Kali.' Every deviation from the established custom, every vice, every crime, in fact, everything wicked, is set down by the ordinary Hindu to the ascending power of the Lord of the Kali age."

Nor is this merely a superstition of the ignorant. We remember how, in the year 1899, when it was said that great calamities were due, the Dewan of Mysore promised to place the matter of preparing for these calamities before the Maharajah. For was it not the five thousandth year of Kali yuga?

Now it does not occur to one in ten thousand to ask whether this is really so. It is accepted as a dogma which must not be questioned; and all the evil and falsehood which this involves must be a dread of the soul and a bondage of the mind whether it become a fact of experience or not.

But, accepting the universally received belief of India that Kali yuga is now five thousand and eight years old, who can tell us what was the condition of things in India before this? Everything before that time is absolutely prehistoric. The best authorities, and indeed all authorities, claim that the Vedas were first sung, that the Rishis of India came into existence, that the Sanscrit tongue and the Indian Aryans who spoke it and the religion of Hinduism which they brought or cultivated,—all of these find their origin during the last five thousand years. All the evidences of history unite to assure us that there is practically nothing existing at the present time in this land which is not in some way the child of these last fifty centuries of Kali yuga. Who, then, can dogmatically tell us that these centuries have been better or worse than the eras preceding them? We know no more about the Dwapara and the other previous eras, if any such ever existed, than we know about the inhabitants of other planets, if such there be. It is therefore futile, yea more, thoroughly wicked, to impose upon the people a chronological system which is so pessimistic and hopeless in its tenor as this.

But even looking back through the probably four thousand years which embrace all that we really know about India, what do we see to encourage this pessimistic view of our era?

Let it not be assumed that the people of India in the days of the Rishis of old were purer in life or loftier in ideals than many who live in India to-day. It is true that such evils as caste, infant marriage, and many similar customs did not exist at all in Vedic days. But it is also true that not a few serious evils of ancient times, such as drunkenness, human sacrifice, and slavery, do not generally exist in India to-day.

But if we desire to know what the condition of the present time is, we should compare this beginning of the twentieth with the beginning of the eighteenth century and see what progress has been achieved. During the last two centuries numberless crimes and evils have been swept away. I need only mention such enormities as thuggee, sattee, infant murder, etc., all of which were thriving even a hundred years ago, but which are now things of the past. And what shall I say of a horde of other customs that have cursed the land, such as infant marriage, thevathasis, caste, all of which are beginning to yield to the enlightened thought of the present and will soon be driven out of the country?

I need not add, however, that all of these wonderful changes and progress have not come out of Hinduism. They have been carried out and are progressing in the teeth of constant opposition from the orthodox defenders of the ancestral faith. It is the new light of the West that has dawned upon India and has brought to it a new era. Even while the people are insisting that they are in the midst of Kali yuga and are confident that the days are "out of joint," they are nevertheless witnessing such a revolution in religious, social, and intellectual life all around them that any people who were not under the blind spell of the Hindu time-fallacy would rejoice with exceeding joy to see it.

And herein do we find one of the great evils of this chronology: It incapacitates the people to accept or to appreciate any blessing which has or may come to them through religious and social advancement. They think that everything must be bad, as a matter of course, in Kali yuga, and so nothing can appear good to them, however beneficent and beautiful it may be.

This conviction that things are now out of joint, and the settled purpose that all will continue an unmixed programme of evil, has more to do with the sad and universal pessimism of India than anything else of which I know. It crushes all buoyancy and cheer out of the mind and rests like a pall upon every future prospect.

Then this expectation for the future robs men of any ambition to remedy present evils. For, they naturally will say, "Why flee from ills which are pressing upon us and which by experience we have learned to endure, if it be only to contract greater troubles in their stead; for freedom from evil is an impossibility in this age?" Is it not, to a very considerable extent, the reason why there are so few whole-hearted reformers in India? Why should a man seek, at the risk of opprobrium and enmity, to root out of the country some accursed custom if his inherited belief in the inherent badness of the present era is still with him? He must feel that all his efforts will be worse than vain; for even if he and others may succeed in overcoming this custom, it will be only to give room to another that may be worse. Hence the universal apathy in the face of crying evils and damning customs; hence also the helpless "cui bono?" to every effort of others to help the land out of the deep pits of injustice and ancient ills.

Out of this belief comes another equally portentous danger, viz. that of easily yielding to the temptations of the time, and of a readiness to participate in the common sins of the day. For, say many, are not these immoralities and evils an integral part of the time; and, if so, what harm is there in our partaking of them? Or, at least, is it not our best interest to harmonize ourselves with the essentially evil environment of our age rather than vainly to combat the sins of the day and to strive to no purpose to remove them?

And thus a belief in the divine order and purpose of the evil of our time and in the impossibility of changing the character of our age becomes one of the most prolific sources of sin, of weakness, and of moral and spiritual apathy in the land to-day. Do not many sin without fear and with increasing facility because they think it is the only life that best harmonizes with this Kali yuga in which they live?

Much of this conception of time is connected with the all but universal belief of the people in astrology. In India, astrology is still fed by popular ignorance and superstition, and continues to rule with an iron rod in this last stronghold among the nations of the earth. It would seem as if it controlled the conduct of individuals, of families, and of society in general. It claims that for one to be born under the dominant influence, or spell, of one of the heavenly bodies is for him to be its slave ever afterwards. And thus the life of every human being is said to be largely controlled by certain planets and constellations, some of which are malign, and some benign in their character and influence.

For it must be remembered that it is not only the yugas that are possessed of moral attributes; even years, months, days, and hours are also classified as good and bad, auspicious and inauspicious. For one to do a thing this month is auspicious, while on the next month it will be the reverse.

In the same manner, almost every human activity has its "lucky" and "unlucky" times—occasions when effort is much less, or more safe or valuable, than at other times. For instance, the Hindu is warned against going eastward, Mondays and Saturdays; northward, Tuesdays and Wednesdays; westward, Fridays and Sundays; and southward, Thursdays. This, we are told, is because Siva's trident is turned against those points of the compass on those particular days, and one would therefore be in danger of being transfixed by this divine weapon!

Then a man must not begin any important work on Rahu-kalam. This inauspicious time covers an hour and a half of each day of the week and is at a different hour every day. The only safe hour is from 6 to 7.30 each morning. That hour is free from the influence of Rahu, and is therefore auspicious. And what is Rahu? It is not a planet at all, as was thought years ago; nor is it a mighty snake which periodically swallows the sun or moon. It is merely the ascending node in astronomy wherein alone the eclipses can take place. And yet this imaginary monster has a very real place in the life of this great people, and the foolish dread of it converts a period daily into an inauspicious occasion for important effort.

I will present only one other illustration with a view to showing how extensively this moral attribute of time is ascribed and emphasized in the serious affairs of life in India. For instance, when a man is engaged in the performance of religious duties, it is regarded as of supreme moment that he know when certain acts are of no merit, or, on the other hand, of special merit. Now, there is a regular code of rules for this special purpose. By observing these rules carefully one may accumulate religious merit or power with the gods beyond any one who does not observe them. We are told that a rupee contributed in charity during the time of an eclipse, or at the time when the new moon falls upon Monday, brings as much merit to the contributor, with the gods, as an offering of one thousand rupees at any ordinary time. Who, then, would not choose the right time for his religious activity if time alone is the element which adds value to it, and if motive has evidently so little of importance in giving quality or value to our efforts in the religious life?



CHAPTER XI

ISLAM IN INDIA

There are sixty-five million Mohammedans in India. This constitutes more than one-fifth of the total population, and is considerably larger than the whole population of the Turkish Empire. There are now under the British Empire more Mohammedans than under any other government in modern, or in earlier, times. For at least ninety-five millions of the followers of the Prophet of Mecca are prospering to-day under the aegis of Great Britain; which is probably five millions in excess of the Christian population of the same empire. This is a significant fact.

And this Islamic population in India is growing, too. During the last decade it increased by 9.1 per cent, while the population of India, as a whole, increased only by 1.9 per cent.

Of the Mohammedans of India, only a small portion are descended from the Mussulmans of the West; while the remainder are the results of conversions from Hinduism.



This population is scattered all over India, though North India is the home of the majority of them. Bengal, also, has a large Mohammedan element in its population. It is that part of the country where Islam has gathered in the largest number of converts; for, of the people of that Presidency, more than one-third (25,264,342) are Mussulmans. And in certain portions of East Bengal the Mohammedans are in the large majority.

In South India, too, there is a fair representation of the members of this faith. One can hardly pass through any section of the country without seeing and recognizing them by their physiognomy, costume, or customs.

I

The History of Islam in India

It is nearly twelve hundred years since the first military expedition of this triumphant faith entered this land. It is an interesting fact that the first attack of Islam (711 A.D.) upon India almost synchronizes with the end of the millennium of Buddhistic rule in India. Thus the incoming of the new Hinduism under Sankaracharyar almost coincides with the first onslaught of the western hordes of the Arabian Prophet upon the strongholds of India.

It was a pure conquest of the sword which gave to Mohammed in India, as in other lands, a place and a possession. And those early days of Mohammedan triumph are, in the main, a record of cruel butchery and of widespread massacre. They fulfilled, to the letter, the command of the founder of their faith, which says: "When ye encounter the unbelievers, strike off their heads, until ye have made a great slaughter among them; and bind them in bonds; and either give them a free dismission afterwards, or exact a ransom; until the war shall have laid down its arms. This shall ye do." (Quran (Koran), xlviii. 4, 5.)

The fanaticism and bigotry of that people carried triumph everywhere; and their triumph meant to every Hindu the acceptance of the sword, the Quran, or tribute. For some centuries, indeed, the fortunes of Islam in India wavered, and its undisputed sway was not recognized until the time of Baber, the distinguished founder of the great Mogul Empire in the sixteenth century. It is also true that, among the mild and patient population of this land, the spirit of that militant faith gradually softened until the era of Akbar the Great—a ruler who was not only illustrious as a lawgiver, but also was justly celebrated for his cosmopolitanism and religious toleration. He was succeeded by another great name, Shah Jehan, a man of wonderful administrative powers, but one of narrow sympathies and occasionally given to cruel bigotry. And yet, if he did not possess the graces for a noble character, he adorned his realm with religious edifices which still stand unrivalled in their exquisite beauty.

The cruel Aurangzeeb practically closed the Mogul dynasty by his weakness, bloodthirstiness, and uncompromising bigotry.

It is strange that during the centuries of cruel dominion, of uncompromising fanaticism, and of religious intolerance, the whole population of the land was not absorbed into Islam. But the Mogul Empire passed away. And, while it left a strong impression on the country as a whole, and affected somewhat the faiths of this land and left marvellous monuments of architectural beauty, it did not seriously change the undercurrents of the life of the whole people.

II

The Present Condition of this Faith in India

Like all other faiths in this peninsula, Islam is accepted and practised in all degrees of purity, from the orthodox worship, conducted in the grand and beautiful mosques of Delhi and Agra, to the grovelling, superstitious, heathenish ceremonies which obtain among, and which constitute the religious pabulum of, the masses of Islam in remote villages and in distant sections of the land.

Generally speaking, the religion of Mohammed is not calculated to appeal to the highly poetic mind of India. It is too severe and prosaic in its character. The mind of India delights in mystical elaborations and in the multiplication of fanciful incarnations and other divine manifestations. The Allah of Islam is almost as remote and as unknowable a deity as is the Brahm of the Vedantist. But in the absence of a personal god the Vedantist and Hindus in general have built up a system of numberless incarnations which "play" upon the imagination of the votaries and give ample scope to the remarkably poetic genius of this people.