India -- Description and travel; India -- Politics and government -- 1765-1947
The sad thing was that in the beautiful streets where Mahratta nobles
had built their simple palaces under the Peshwas a century ago, many
of the houses now stood dark and empty, in terror of the plague.
Hardly eleven years had passed since the pestilence first appeared,
imported from Hongkong as people thought, and in those eleven years
it had killed nearly six millions of India’s inhabitants. Six
millions out of three hundred millions may not sound very much; it is
only two in every hundred spread over eleven years. But the loss
was not equally distributed, and when I was told that within those
eleven years the inhabitants of Poona had been reduced to nearly
one-third, I knew why so many homes were dark on a night of lamps
and family affection. At the time, the plague was striking down from
twelve to fifteen, or at the highest twenty, so that its visitation
was regarded as light. But I remember the panic when a single case
was reported in London, or even at the more comfortable distance of
Marseilles, and so it was natural to find that many families had gone
to live on selected open spaces outside the city. There among rocks
and withered grass they kindled their little lamps and celebrated
family joy in any hut of wicker, matting, canvas, petroleum
tins, old boxes, boards, or branches which they and the Imperial
Government could manage to rig up between them. Many shopmen had even
transferred their little stores of grain, sweets, and cottons to this
countrified scene, and the general effect was like a scrappy Derby
Day without the races.
Having crossed a bridge, to the left of which thin columns of smoke
still rose from the smouldering bodies of yesterday’s dead, I passed
through one of these Health Camps, as official language fondly
calls them, and found before me a partly finished building of solid
stone—unfinished, but with something already monastic and grave in
its straight-roofed hall and line of cloistral habitations. It was
the rising home of the “Servants of India Society,” and in front of
his own small house the founder and “First Member” of the Society was
standing to receive me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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