Eurasians -- Fiction; India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
At one of the stations where we stopped for breakfast, as soon as I took
my seat at table, a man, I only knew he was a padri by his clothes,
arose and went to the other side. He probably, the next Sunday in his
service, read, “Since God hath made of one blood,” etc., but this was in
his prayer-book, and what he did at table was of a weekday color. In
company, at times when others were introduced with a smile and a shake
of the hand, some were so afflicted with frigid faces and stiffness in
their necks that I scarcely got a smile or a nod.
I would not lisp a word about this if it were not for their passing as
people of culture and refinement, and more, or worse, as Christians.
While away from India, I almost forgot that I was born under a curse,
but I was so forcibly reminded of it on the steamer, returning, and on
reaching Bombay, that my old feelings came back with renewed vigor, more
so on account of my wife. I endeavor to act like a man. I will not say
gentleman,—as that seems to be a special society made article of which I
think God is ashamed and disowns—and with courtesy and kindness, but I
am instantly and always in India, made to feel that I am an intruder, as
I really am. But who was the author of my intrusion and the cause of my
confusion? Therein is the sting and bitterness.
Instead of asking why I, or we, cannot let this subject drop, should not
you, high-toned merchants, ladies, gentlemen, teachers, preachers,
Christians, followers of Jesus, all of you, show that your practice has
some relation to your creeds and professions? My experience had taught
me what to expect, and I was prepared for anything that might happen,
even the worst, and this nearly always did occur. A man may rough it and
bear any amount of brunt for himself, but if he has a particle of soul
of manhood in him, as a husband, he cannot bear the thought of a slight
or a snub to his wife without taking offense, especially when he is the
innocent cause of it.
We were a kingdom by ourselves, and supremely happy, yet I knew we must
see people and I was in constant dread. The time soon came.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Elsewhere in the archive
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account