Memoirs of a griffin : $b Or, A cadet's first year in IndiaBellew, Francis John
General
Memoirs of a griffin : $b Or, A cadet's first year in India
Bellew, Francis John
India -- Description and travel
The pretty invalid station of Chunarghur is a few miles from Sultanpore,
on the opposite bank of the river; as you approach it, the fort,
crowning a lofty table rock, and abutting on the Ganges, has, with its
numerous Moorish buildings and lines of circumvallation, a very striking
and picturesque effect; and its reddish hue and that of the rock
contrast pleasingly with the verdant gardens and white residences of the
European inhabitants.[49]
The general, a hoary old Indianized veteran, gave my friend, with whom
he appeared to be on intimate terms, a very hearty reception. It being
Christmas Day, he had mounted his red uniform coat, which, from the hue
of the lace, and other unmistakable signs, it was very clear, had been
laid up in ordinary for a considerable time; but though his upper works
were European, all below indicated one who had imbibed, in the course of
fifty or sixty years’ service, a taste for the luxurious appliances of
an Indian existence. His legs, like those of Colonel Lolsaug, were
encased in voluminous _pajammas_, which finished off with a pair of
Indian gilt slippers.
We had a capital breakfast, at which an abundance of solid cheer,
interspersed with glasses of amber jelly, and garnished with evergreens
and flowers, “jasmin and marigolds,” produced a truly Old English
effect.
The old general leaned back in his easy chair, stretched his legs on a
morah, smoked his magnificent hookha, and prepared to receive a host of
people waiting outside to pay their respects.
In India, Christmas Day is called by the natives our “_Burra Din_,” or
great day. Our native soldiers and dependants attend in their best
attire, to pay their respects, and present, according to their means,
little _nuzzurs_ or gifts, as tokens of good-will and fidelity. Your
Kansaman brings a basket of sweetmeats; the shepherd, a kid from the
flock; the gardener, a basket of his choicest fruit, flowers, and
vegetables; the bearers deck the bungalow with evergreens, or plant a
young tree in front of the door, and so forth.
It is a pleasing homage to master and his faith; and altogether, with
the temperature of the weather and the solidity of the fare, tends
strongly to awaken bygone recollections of youth, and all the charities
and endearments of our island home at that delightful and merry season.
The _chick_, or blind, being now rolled up, a _posse_ of venerable
veteran native officers entered, exhibiting on their persons the various
obsolete costumes of the Indian army of half a century back, gradually
approximating from the uncouth attire of the sepoy of the olden time,
with its short vandyked _jangheeas_, half-way down the thigh, cut-away
coat, and ludicrous triangular-fronted cap, to the more perfect
Europeanized dress at present worn.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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