My three years in Manipur : $b and escape from the recent mutinyGrimwood, Ethel St. Clair
History
My three years in Manipur : $b and escape from the recent mutiny
Grimwood, Ethel St. Clair
Grimwood, Ethel St. Clair, 1867-1928; Manipur (India)
In a very few days we had shaken down most comfortably. We had brought
with us everything we possessed, and I soon had as pretty a drawing-room
as anyone could wish for. The next thing my husband had to do was to make
friends with the Maharajah. For this purpose a durbar was arranged, and
it took place about two days after we had been there, at eight in the
morning. It was a very imposing function indeed. Red cloth was spread
all over the veranda and on the front steps, and our whole escort of
sixty Ghoorkas was drawn up on the front lawn. The Maharajah arrived
with a grand flourish of trumpets, attended by all his brothers, and
accompanied also by a large following of Sepoys, slaves and ministers
of state, each of the latter with his own retinue. The Maharajah was a
short, fat, ugly little man, with a face something between that of a
Burmese and a Chinaman—rather fairer than the Bengal natives, but much
scarred with small-pox. He was dressed very simply in white—a white coat
with gold buttons, and a very fine white muslin Dhotee.[2] He had a large
white turban on his head, in which was stuck a spray of yellow orchids.
Gray woollen stockings covered his legs, fastened at the knee with blue
elastic garters with very fine brass buckles and little bows, and his
feet were encased in very large roughly-made laced boots, of which he
seemed supremely proud.
His eldest brother, the Jubraj, was a second edition of himself, only
stouter and uglier. Next in order rode the Senaputti, whom I have already
described, and he was followed by five younger brothers. My husband had
to go to the outer gate to meet his highness with his hat off, where he
shook hands with all the princes, and then walked with the Maharajah back
to the house and into the durbar hall, which was in the centre of the
Residency. The whole durbar, being only a complimentary ceremony, did not
last more than ten minutes, but before he left the Maharajah expressed a
wish to see me; so I appeared and shook hands with them all, and smiled
amiably, as I did not know enough of the language then to speak to them.
They all stared at me very solemnly, as though I were a curious kind of
animal, and shortly afterwards they took their departure.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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