Reference no: EM133366161

Case Study: Another place of considerable interest to the natives of England [1] was the Indian Bazar where Hindu and Muhammadan artisans carried on their avocations [2], to witness which men, women and children flocked from all parts of the kingdom. A dense crowd always stood there, looking at our men as they wove the gold brocade, sang the patterns of the carpet and printed the calico with the hand. They were as much astonished to see the Indians produce works of art with the aid of rude apparatus they themselves had discarded long ago, as a Hindu would be to see a chimpanzee officiating as a priest in a funeral ceremony and reading out Sanskrit texts from a palm leaf book spread before him. [3] We were very interesting beings no doubt, so were the Zulus before us, and so is the Sioux chief at the present time (1887.) Human nature everywhere thirsts for novelty, and measures out its favours in proportion to the rarity and oddity of a thing. [4] It was from the ladies that we received the largest amount of patronage. We were pierced through and through by stares from eyes of all colours-green, gray, blue and black-and every movement and act of ours, walking, sitting, eating, reading, received its full share of "O, I, never!" The number of wives we left behind at home was also a constant theme of speculation among them, and shrewd guesses were sometimes made on this point, 250 being a favourite number. [5] You could tell any amount of stories on this subject without exciting the slightest suspicion. Once, one of our number told a pretty waitress-"I am awfully pleased with you, and I want to marry you. Will you accept the fortieth wifeship in my household which became vacant just before I left my country?" She asked-"How many wives have you altogether?" "Two hundred and fifty, the usual number," was the ready answer. "What became of your wife, number 40?" "I killed her, because one morning she could not cook my porridge well." [6] The poor girl was horrified, and exclaimed- "O you monster, O you wretch!" Then she narrated the sad fate of a friend of hers. She was a sweet little child, when an African student studying in Edinburgh came and wooed her. They got married in England and fondly loved each other. Everything went well as long as the pair lived in England, but after a short time he took his fair wife to his desert home in Liberia. Not a single white man or woman could she see there, and she felt very lonely. But the sight of her mother-in-law, who dressed in feathers and skins came dancing into the house half-tipsy, was more than she could bear. She pined for a short time and died. [7]

Of course, every nation in the world considers other nations as savages or at least much inferior to itself. It was so from the beginning and it will be so as long as human nature will retain its present character. [8] We did not therefore wonder that the common people should take us for barbarians, awkward as we were in every respect. They have very strict notions of dress, manners and the general bearing of a man, any deviation from which is seriously noticed. [9] Utmost indulgence was however shewn to us everywhere. Her Majesty was graciously pleased to lay aside the usual rules, and this favour was shewn us wherever we went. Gentlemen and ladies of high education and culture, however, honoured us as the representatives of the most ancient nation now existing on the face of the earth. They would frequently ask us home, get up private parties and arrange for all sorts of amusements. In other houses we grew more intimate and formed part of the family party. To these we were always welcome, and could go and come whenever we liked. We got some friends among them, and these gentlemen would often come and fetch us home if we absented ourselves for more than the ordinary length of time. I fondly remember the happy days I passed with them, and feel thankful for the kindness they shewed me during my sojourn in their country. [10]

In public matters non-official gentlemen were also very partial to us. "We want to hear the turbanned gentleman" was the wish often and often expressed. But we ceased not to be a prodigious wonder to strangers and to the common people. Would they discuss us so freely if they knew that we understood their language? [11] It was very amusing to hear what they said about us. Often when fatigued with work, or when cares and anxieties cast a gloom upon our mind, we found such talks about us more refreshing than a glass of port wine. I wish I had the ability to do justice to the discussing power of these ladies and gentlemen exercised in their kind notice of us, for in that case I could produce one of the most interesting books ever published. Or if I had known that I would be required to write an account of my visit to Europe, I would have taken notes of at least some of the remarkable hits on truth unconsciously made by ignorant people from the country, which are applicable to all nations and which set one to philosophise on the material difference that exists between our own estimate of ourselves and the estimate which others form of us. [12]

If we were interesting beings in the eyes of the Londoners, who had oftener opportunities of seeing their fellow subjects from the far East, how much more would we be so to the simple villagers who came by thousands to see the wonders of the Exhibition. Their conduct towards us was always kind and respectful. They liked to talk to us, and whenever convenient we tried to satisfy their curiosity. Men, women and children, whose relations are in India serving as soldiers or in any other capacity, would come through the crowd, all panting, to shake hands with us and ask about their friends. Many queer incidents happened in this way. "Do you know Jim,-James Robinson you know of Regiment?" asked a fat elderly woman, who one day came bustling through the crowd and took me by storm, without any of those preliminary manoeuvres usually adopted to open a conversation with a stranger. I expressed my regret in not having the honour of Jim's acquaintance. The good old lady then explained to me that she was Jim's aunt, and gave me a long history of her nephew, and the circumstances which led to his enlistment as a soldier. If the truant nephew lost the golden opportunity of sending through us his dutiful message to his aunt, she on her part was not wanting in her affectionate remembrances of him. Among other things, most of which I did not understand, for she did not speak the English we ordinarily hear nor was her language quite coherent at the time, she begged me to carry to Jim the important intelligence that Mrs. Jones' fat pig obtained a prize at the Smithfield Agricultural Show. [13] I shewed my alacrity to carry the message right off to Jim in the wilds of Upper Burma by immediately taking leave of the lady, who joined her friends and explained to them that I was a bosom friend of her nephew.

Once, I was sitting in one of the swellish restaurants at the Exhibition, glancing over a newspaper which I had no time to read in the morning. At a neighbouring table sat a respectable-looking family group evidently from the country, from which furtive glances were occasionally thrown in my direction. I thought I might do worse than having a little fun, if any could be made out of the notice that was being taken of me. I seemed tobe suddenly aware that I was being looked at, which immediately scared away half a dozen eyes from my table. It took fully five minutes' deep undivided attention to my paper again to reassure and tempt out those eyes from the plates where they took refuge, and the glances from them, which at first flashed and flickered like lightning, became steadier the more my mind seemed to get absorbed in the subject I was reading. The closer inspection to which I submitted ended in my favour. Perhaps, no symptom being visible in my external appearance of the cannibalistic tendencies of my heart, or owing probably to the notion that I must have by that time got over my partiality for human flesh, or knowing at least that the place was safe enough against any treacherous spring which I might take into my head to make upon them, or owing to whatever other cause, the party gradually grew bolder, began to talk in whispers and actually tried to attract my attention towards them. [14] The latter duty ultimately devolved upon the beauty of the party, a pretty girl of about seventeen. Of course it was not intended for my ears, but somehow I heard her say- "Oh, how I wish to speak to him?" Could I withstand such an appeal? I rose and approaching the little Curiosity asked- "Did you speak to me, young lady?" She blushed and hung down her head. Her papa came to the rescue. "My daughter, Sir, is delighted with the magnificent things brought from your country to this Exhibition. She saw some writing in your language on a few plates and shields, and is anxious to know its meaning. We did not know whom to ask, when we saw you. Will you take a seat here, and do me the honour to take a glass of something with me? What will it be? Sparkling moselle I find is good here; or shall it be champagne or anything stronger?" He said. The proferred glass was declined with thanks, but I took a chair and explained the meaning of some of the verses damascened on the Koftgari ware. The young lady soon got over her bashfulness, and talked with a vivacity which I did not expect from her. She was delighted with everything I said, expressed her astonishment at my knowledge of English, and complimented me for the performance of the band brought from my country, viz., the West Indian band composed of Negroes and Mulattos, which compliment made me wince a little, [15] but nevertheless I went on chattering for a quarter of an hour and furnishing her with sufficient means to annihilate her friend Minnie, Jane or Lizzy or whoever she might be, and to brag among her less fortunate relations for six months to come of her having actually seen and talked to a genuine "Blackie." [16]

Question 1. What is significant about Mukharji's use of the phrase "natives of England"?

Question 2. Define avocations.

Question 3. In Mukharji's opinion, how do the English people view the Indians?

Question 4. Do you believe this observation still applies today?

Question 5. What is Mukharji's attitude towards the English people's preoccupation with the Indians' wives?

Question 6. What stereotype or commonly held belief is Mukharji's friend playing on?

Question 7. What is unintentionally humorous or ironic about this story, especially the girl's "sad fate?"

Question 8. Do you agree with this statement? Why or why not?

Question 9. Do you think this statement applies to our society today? Why or why not?

Question 10. How do the common people treat Mukharji and his friends compared to the wealthier, better-educated people?

Question 11. Have you ever experienced overhearing someone discuss you in another language? If you speak another language, have you ever been surprised to discover someone you thought couldn't understand you was listening to your conversation? How did it make you feel?

Question 12. What "truth" do you suppose Mukharji is referring to here? What truths apply to all people, regardless of where they come from?

Question 13. What is Mukharji's opinion of this "good woman?" What attitude is behind the words "important intelligence?"

Question 14. In Mukharji's opinion, what beliefs does this family have about Indians? What is his opinion of this family?

Question 15. What mistake does the girl make that shows her cultural ignorance? What is Mukharji's attitude towards the West Indians?

Question 16. What is Mukharji's attitude towards this girl?

Question 17. Mukharji spends much of this essay describing the English fascination with Indians. Do you think he is as fascinated by the English as they are with him? Why or why not?

Question 18. What is Mukharji's attitude toward most of the people he encounters?

Question 19. Consider that during this time, India belonged to the British Empire under Queen Victoria. Might that affect Mukharji's attitude toward the English?