Eurasians -- Fiction; India -- History -- British occupation, 1765-1947 -- Fiction
I think that the world, as well as schools, is cursed with too much
legislation. Statutes, laws, regulations, restrictions, prohibitions at
every turn, are enough to make us all sinners. I often think of that old
fable of Eve and the apple, that if the Lord had told her to go out and
gather all the apples in the garden and eat as many as she wanted, she
would have said that she did not like apples, and never did from the
time she was born, they were too acidulated, and she would not have
tasted even one; but when she was told not to touch any of them she was
bound to break the rule, even if she broke her neck and the necks of all
of us, her children. I cannot leave this without noticing a question
that has often bothered me, because I am no theologist and yet cannot
take everything by faith on the mere say so of man or men—and that is,
since the Lord foreknew what Eve would do, why did He place the apples
in the garden and then forbid her to take them? Did He not lead her into
temptation? That is, if the story about her is true. If, knowing the
predilections of my bearer for appropriating my property, and
particularly for his dislike of seeing silver and copper coin lying
around unused, why should I freely place them about in his sight to
excite his desire of reciprocity, in order to tempt him and so bring
punishment upon himself and upon his children? Would not I, an educated
fore-thinking sahib be more to blame for what I did, than what he a poor
ignorant man did? Though I have studied much, and thought a little, yet
I am often puzzled by such simple questions.
It is the little things of life that bother us the most. Poor Johnny
could take a flogging that raised great welts on his body without a
squeal, but he could not kneel to say his prayers when the other boys
could see him. I have ridden an elephant, a noble tusker, all day in the
forest after tigers and he never flinched, but in the evening when he
was hobbled to a tree, one little mosquito buzzing about his ears would
set him frantic with rage. It is the mean, petty annoyances that make
life a burden, and it is not strange when they become frequent, that
many take tickets of-leave for parts unknown.
CHAPTER VII.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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