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Rambles and Recollections of an Indian Official by William Sleeman

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While Madhoji Sindhia, the Gwalior chief, was prime minister, he made
the emperor assign to his daughter the Bala Bai in jagir, or rent-
free tenure, ninety-five villages, rated in the imperial 'sanads'
[deeds of grant] at three lakhs of rupees a year. When the Emperor
had been released from the 'durance vile' in which he was kept by
Daulat Rao Sindhia, the adopted son of this chief,[5] by Lord Lake in
1803, and the countries, in which these villages were situated, taken
possession of, she was permitted to retain them on condition that
they were to escheat to us on her death. She died in 1834, and we
took possession of the villages, which now yield, it is said, four
lakhs of rupees a year. Begamabad was one of them. It paid to the
Bala Bai only six hundred rupees a year, but it pays now to us six
hundred and twenty rupees; but the farmers and cultivators do not pay
a farthing more--the difference was taken by the favourite to whom
she assigned the duties of collection, and who always took as much as
he could get from them, and paid as little as he could to her.[6] The
tomb of the old collector stood near my tents, and his son, who came
to visit it, told me that he had heard from Gwalior that a new
Governor-General was about to arrive,[7] who would probably order the
villages to be given back, when he should be made collector of the
village, as his father had been.

Had our Government acted by all the rent-free lands in our
territories on the same principle, they would have saved themselves a
vast deal of expense, trouble, and odium. The justice of declaring
all lands liable to resumption on the death of the present incumbents
when not given by competent authority for, and actually applied to,
the maintenance of religious, charitable, educational, or other
establishments of manifest public utility, would never have been for
a moment questioned by the people of India, because they would have
all known that it was in accordance with the customs of the country.
If, at the same time that we declared all land liable to resumption,
when not assigned by such authority for such purposes and actually
applied to them, we had declared that all grants by competent
authority registered in due form before the death of the present
incumbents should be liable on their death to the payment to
Government of only a quarter or half the rent arising from them, it
would have been universally hailed as an act of great liberality,
highly calculated to make our reign popular. As it is, we have
admitted the right of former rulers of all descriptions to alienate
in perpetuity the land, the principal source of the revenue of the
state, in favour of their relatives, friends, and favourites, leaving
upon the holders the burthen of proving, at a ruinous cost in fees
and bribes, through court after court, that these alienations had
been made by the authorities we declare competent, before the time
prescribed; and we have thus given rise to an infinite deal of fraud,
perjury, and forgery, and to the opinion, I fear, very generally
prevalent, that we are anxious to take advantage of unavoidable flaws
in the proof required, to trick them out of their lands by tedious
judicial proceedings, while we profess to be desirous that they
should retain them. In this we have done ourselves great
injustice.[8]

Though these lands were often held for many generations under former
Governments, and for the exclusive benefit of the holders, it was
almost always, when they were of any value, in collusion with the
local authorities, who concealed the circumstances from their
sovereign for a certain stipulated sum or share of the rents while
they held office. This of course the holders were always willing to
pay, knowing that no sovereign would hesitate much to resume their
lands, should the circumstance of their holding them for their
private use alone be ever brought to his notice. The local
authorities were, no doubt, always willing to take a moderate share
of the rent, knowing that they would get nothing should the lands be
resumed by the sovereign. Sometimes the lands granted were either at
the time the grant was made, or became soon after, waste and
depopulated, in consequence of invasion or internal disorders; and
remaining in this state for many generations, the intervening
sovereigns either knew nothing or cared nothing about the grants.
Under our rule they became by degrees again cultivated and peopled,
and in consequence valuable, not by the exertions of the rent-free
holders, for they were seldom known to do anything but collect the
rents, but by those of the farmers and cultivators who pay them.

When Saadat Ali Khan, the sovereign of Oudh, ceded Rohilkhand and
other districts to the Honourable Company in lieu of tribute in 1801,
he resumed every inch of land held in rent-free tenure within the
territories that remained with him, without condescending to assign
any other reason than state necessity. The measure created a good
deal of distress, particularly among the educated classes; but not so
much as a similar measure would have created within our territories,
because all his revenues are expended in the maintenance of
establishments formed exclusively out of the members of Oudh
families, and retained within the country, while ours are sent to pay
establishments formed and maintained at a distance; and those whose
lands are resumed always find it exceedingly difficult to get
employment suitable to their condition.

The face of the country between Delhi and Meerut is sadly denuded of
its groves; not a grove or an avenue is to be seen anywhere, and but
few fine solitary trees.[9] I asked the people of the cause, and was
told by the old men of the village that they remembered well when the
Sikh chiefs who now bask under the sunshine of our protection used to
come over at the head of 'dalas' (bodies) of ten or twelve horse
each, and plunder and lay waste with fire and sword, at every
returning harvest, the fine country which I now saw covered with rich
sheets of cultivation, and which they had rendered a desolate waste,
'without a man to make, or a man to grant, a petition', when Lord
Lake came among them.[10] They were, they say, looking on at a
distance when he fought the battle of Delhi, and drove the Marathas,
who were almost as bad as the Sikhs, into the Jumna river, where ten
thousand of them were drowned. The people of all classes in Upper
India feel the same reverence as our native soldiery for the name of
this admirable soldier and most worthy man, who did so much to
promote our interests and sustain our reputation in this country.[11]

The most beautiful trees in India are the 'bar' (banyan), the
'pipal', and the tamarind.[12] The two first are of the fig tribe,
and their greatest enemies are the elephants and camels of our public
establishments and public servants, who prey upon them wherever they
can find them when under the protection of their masters or keepers,
who, when appealed to, generally evince a very philosophical
disregard to the feeling of either property or piety involved in the
trespass. It is consequently in the driest and hottest parts of the
country, where the shade of these trees is most wanted, that it is
least to be found; because it is there that camels thrive best, and
are most kept, and it is most difficult to save such trees from their
depredations.

In the evening a trooper passed our tents on his way in great haste
from Meerut to Delhi, to announce the death of the poor old Begam
Samru, which had taken place the day before at her little capital of
Sardhana. For five-and-twenty years had I been looking forward to the
opportunity of seeing this very extraordinary woman, whose history
had interested me more than that of any other character in India
during my time; and I was sadly disappointed to hear of her death
when within two or three stages of her capital.[13]


Notes:

1. January, 1836.

2. Mr. Fox Strangways gives specimens of songs sung at wells in his
learned and original book, _The Music of Hindostan_ (Oxford, 1914,
pp. 20, 21).

3. Brij Bowla in the original edition. The name is correctly written
Birju Baula or Baura. A legend of the rivalry between him and Tansen
is given in _Linguistic Survey of India_, vi, 47. His name is not
included in Abul Fazl's list of eminent musicians, or in Blochmann's
notes to it (Ain trans. i, 612), and I have not succeeded in
obtaining any trustworthy information about him. Marvellous legends
of the rival singers will be found in _N.I.N. & Qu._ vol. v, para.
207.

4. Abul Fazl describes Tansen as being of Gwalior, adding that 'a
singer like him has not been in India for the last thousand years'.
Nos. 2-5 and several others in Abul Fazl's list of eminent musicians
in Akbar's reign are all noted as belonging to Gwalior, which
evidently was the most musical of cities (Blochmann, transl. Ain, i,
612). Sleeman appears to have been mistaken in connecting Tansen with
Patna. But the musician must really have become a Musalman, because
his tomb stands close to the south-western corner of the sepulchre at
Gwalior of Muhammad Ghaus, an eminent Muslim saint. No Hindu could
have been buried in such a spot (_A.S.R._, vol. ii, p. 370).
According to one account Tansen died in Lahore, his body being
removed to Gwalior by order of Akbar (Forbes, _Oriental Memoirs_,
London, 1813, vol. iii, p. 32). The leaves of the tamarind-tree
overshadowing the tomb are believed to improve the voice marvellously
when chewed.

Mr. Fox Strangways notes that Hindu critics hold Tansen 'principally
responsible for the deterioration of Hindu music. He is said to have
falsified the rags, and two, Hindol and Megh, of the original six
have disappeared since his time' (op. cit., p. 84).

Akbar, in the seventh year of his reign (1562-3), compelled the Raja
of Riwa (Bhath) to give up Tansen, who was in the Raja's service. The
emperor gave the musician Rs. 200,000. 'Most of his compositions are
written in Akbar's name, and his melodies are even nowadays
everywhere repeated by the people of Hindustan' (Blochmann, op. cit.,
p. 406). Tansen died in A.D. 1588 (Beale).

5. Shah Alam is the sovereign alluded to. Mahadaji (Madhoji or
Madhava Rao) Sindhia died in February, 1794. His successor, Daulat
Rao, was then a boy of fourteen or fifteen (Grant Duff, _History of
the Mahrattas_, ed. 1826, vol. iii, p. 86). The formal adoption of
Daulat Rao had not been completed (ibid., p. 91).

6. This observation is a good illustration of the tendency of
administrators in a country so poor as India to take note of the
infinitely little. In Europe no one would take the trouble to notice
the difference between L60 and L62 rental.

7. Lord Auckland, in March, 1836, relieved Sir Charles Metcalfe, who,
as temporary Governor-General, had succeeded Lord William Bentinck.

8. The resumption, that is to say, assessment, of revenue-free lands
was a burning question in the anthor's day. It has long since got
settled. The author was quite right in his opinion. All native
Governments freely exercised the right of resumption, and did not
care in the least what phrases were used in the deed of grant. The
old Hindoo deeds commonly directed that the grant should last 'as
long as the sun and moon shall endure', and invoked awful curses on
the head of the resumer. But this was only formal legal phraseology,
meaning nothing. No ruler was bound by his predecessor's acts.

9. This is not now the case.

10. 'It is difficult to realize that the dignified, sober, and
orderly men who now fill our regiments are of the same stock as the
savage freebooters whose name, a hundred years ago, was the terror of
Northern India. But the change has been wrought by strong and kindly
government and by strict military discipline under sympathetic
officers whom the troops love and respect.' (Sir Lepel Griffin,
_Ranjit Singh_, p. 37.)

11. Gerard Lake was born on the 27th July, 1744, and entered the army
before he was fourteen. He served in the Seven Years' War in Germany,
in the American War, in the French campaign of 1793, and against the
Irish rebels in 1798. In the year 1801 he became Commander-in-Chief
in India, and proceeded to Cawnpore, then our frontier station. Two
years later the second Maratha War began, and gave General Lake the
opportunity of winning a series of brilliant victories. In rapid
succession he defeated the enemy at Koil, Aligarh, Delhi (the battle
alluded to in the text), Agra, and Laswari. Next year, 1804, the
glorious record was marred by the disaster to Colonel Monson's force,
but this was quickly avenged by the decisive victories of Dig and
Farrukhabad, which shattered Holkar's power. The year 1805 saw
General Lake's one personal failure, the unsuccessful siege of
Bharatpur. The Commander-in-Chief then resumed the pursuit of Holkar,
and forced him to surrender. He sailed for England in February, 1807,
and on his arrival at home was created a Viscount. On the 21st
February, 1808, he died. (Pearse, _Memoir of the Life and Military
Services of Viscount Lake_. London, Blackwood, 1908.) The village of
Patparganj, nearly due east from Humayun's Tomb, marks the site of
the battle. Fanshawe (p. 70) gives a plan.

12. The banyan is the _Ficus indica_, or _Urostigma bengalense_; the
'pipal' is _Ficus religiosa_, or _Urostigma religiosum_; and the
tamarind is the _Tamarindus indica_, or _occidentalis_, or
_officinalis_.

13. The history of the Begam is given in Chapter 76, _post_.




CHAPTER 71


The Station of Meerut--'Atalis' who Dance and Sing gratuitously for
the Benefit of the Poor.

On the 30th,[1] we went on twelve miles to Meerut, and encamped close
to the Suraj Kund, so called after Suraj-mal, the Jat chief of Dig,
whose tomb I have described at Govardhan.[2] He built here a very
large tank, at the recommendation of the spirit of a Hindoo saint,
Manohar Nath, whose remains had been burned here more than two
hundred years before, and whose spirit appeared to the Jat chief in a
dream, as he was encamped here with his army during one of his
_kingdom-taking_ expeditions. This is a noble work, with a fine sheet
of water, and flights of steps of 'pakka' masonry from the top to its
edge all round. The whole is kept in repair by our Government.[3]
About half a mile to the north-west of the tank stands the tomb of
Shah Pir, a Muhammadan saint, who is said to have descended from the
mountains with the Hindoo, and to have been his bosom friend up to
the day of his death. Both are said to have worked many wonderful
miracles among the people of the surrounding country, who used to see
them, according to popular belief, quietly taking their morning ride
together upon the backs of two enormous tigers who came every morning
at the appointed hour from the distant jungle. The Hindoo is said to
have been very fond of music; and though he has been now dead some
three centuries, a crowd of amateurs (atalis) assemble every Sunday
afternoon at his shrine, on the bank of the tank, and sing gratis,
and in a very pleasing style, to an immense concourse of people, who
assemble to hear them, and to solicit the spirit of the old saint,
softened by their melodies. At the tomb of the Muhammadan saint a
number of professional dancers and singers assemble every Thursday
afternoon, and dance, sing, and play gratis to a large concourse of
people, who make offerings of food to the poor, and implore the
intercession of the old man with the Deity in return.

The Muhammadan's tomb is large and handsome, and built of red
sandstone, inlaid with marble, but without any cupola, that there may
be no _curtain_ between him and heaven when he gets out of his 'last
long sleep' at the resurrection.[4] Not far from his tomb is another,
over the bones of a pilgrim they call Ganj-i-fann, or the granary of
science. Professional singers and dancers attend it every Friday
afternoon, and display their talents gratis to a large concourse, who
bestow what they can in charity to the poor, who assemble on all
these occasions to take what they can get. Another much frequented
tomb lies over a Muhammadan saint, who has not been dead more than
three years, named Gohar Sah. He owes his canonization to a few
circumstances of recent occurrence, which are, however, universally
believed. Mr. Smith, an enterprising merchant of Meerut, who had
raised a large windmill for grinding corn in the Sadr Bazar, is said
to have abused the old man as he was one day passing by, and looked
with some contempt on his method of grinding, which was to take the
bread from the mouths of so many old widows. 'My child,' said the old
saint, 'amuse thyself with this toy of thine, for it has but a few
days to run.' In four days from that time the machine stopped. Poor
Mr. Smith could not afford to set it going again, and it went to
ruin. The whole native population of Meerut considered this a miracle
of Gohar Sah. Just before his death the country round Meerut was
under water, and a great many houses fell from incessant rain. The
old man took up his residence during this time in a large sarai in
the town, but finding his end approach, he desired those who had
taken shelter with him to have him taken to the jungle where he now
reposes. They did so, and the instant they left the building it fell
to the ground. Many who saw it told me they had no doubt that the
virtues of the old man had sustained it while he was there, and
prevented its crushing all who were in it. The tomb was built over
his remains by a Hindoo officer of the court, who had been long out
of employment and in great affliction. He had no sooner completed the
tomb, and implored the aid of the old man, than he got into excellent
service, and has been ever since a happy man. He makes regular
offerings to his shrine, as a grateful return for the saint's
kindness to him in his hour of need. Professional singers and dancers
display their talents here gratis, as at the other tombs, every
Wednesday afternoon.

The ground all round these tombs is becoming crowded with the graves
of people, who in their last moments request to be buried (zer-saya)
under the shadow of these saints, who in their lifetime are all said
to have despised the pomps and vanities of this life, and to have
taken nothing from their disciples and worshippers but what was
indispensably necessary to support existence--food being the only
thing offered and accepted, and that taken only when they happened to
be very hungry. Happy indeed was the man whose dish was put forward
when the saint's appetite happened to be sharp. The death of the poor
old Begam has, it is said, just canonized another saint, Shakir Shah,
who lies buried at Sardhana, but is claimed by the people of Meerut,
among whom he lived till about five years ago, when he desired to be
taken to Sardhana, where he found the old lady very dangerously ill
and not expected to live. He was himself very old and ill when he set
out from Meerut; and the journey is said to have shaken him so much
that he found his end approaching, and sent a messenger to the
princess in these words: 'Aya tore, chale ham'; that is, 'Death came
for thee, but I go in thy place'; and he told those around him that
she had precisely five years more to live. She is said to have caused
a tomb to be built over him, and is believed by the people to have
died that day five years.

All these things I learned as I wandered among the tombs of the old
saints the first few evenings after my arrival at Meerut. I was
interested in their history from the circumstance that amateur
singers and professional dancers and musicians should display their
talents at their shrines gratis, for the sake of getting alms for the
poor of the place, given in their name--a thing I had never before
heard of--though the custom prevails no doubt in other places; and
that Musalmans and Hindoos should join promiscuously in their
devotions and charities at all these shrines. Manohar Nath's shrine,
though he was a Hindoo, is attended by as many Musalman as Hindoo
pilgrims. He is said to have 'taken the _samadh_', that is, to have
buried himself alive in this place as an offering to the Deity. Men
who are afflicted with leprosy or any other incurable disease in
India often take the samadh, that is, bury or drown themselves with
due ceremonies, by which they are considered as acceptable sacrifices
to the Deity. I once knew a Hindoo gentleman of great wealth and
respectability, and of high rank under the Government of Nagpur, who
came to the river Nerbudda, two hundred miles, attended by a large
retinue, to _take the samadh_ in due form, from a painful disease
which the doctors pronounced incurable. After taking an affectionate
leave of all his family and friends, he embarked on board the boat,
which took him into the deepest part of the river. He then loaded
himself with sand, as a sportsman who is required to carry weights in
a race loads himself with shot, and stepping into the water
disappeared. The funeral ceremonies were then performed, and his
family, friends, and followers returned to Nagpur, conscious that
they had all done what they had been taught to consider their duty.
Many poor men do the same every year when afflicted by any painful
disease that they consider incurable.[5] The only way to prevent this
is to carry out the plan now in progress of giving to India in an
accessible shape the medical science of Europe--a plan first adopted
under Lord W. Bentinck, prosecuted by Lord Auckland, and
superintended by two able and excellent men, Doctors Goodeve and
O'Shaughnessy. It will be one of the greatest blessings that India
has ever received from England.[6]


Notes:

1. January, 1836. The date is misprinted 20th in the original
edition.

2. _Ante_, chapter 56 [13].

3. 'Amongst the remains of former times in and around Meerut may be
noticed the Suraj kund, commonly called by Europeans 'the monkey
tank'. It was constructed by Jawahir Mal, a wealthy merchant of
Lawar, in 1714. It was intended to keep it full of water from the Abu
Nala but at present the tank is nearly dry in May and June. There are
numerous small temples, 'dharmsalas' [i.e. rest-houses], and 'sati'
pillars on its banks, but none of any note. The largest of the
temples is dedicated to Manohar Nath, and is said to have been built
in the reign of Shah Jahan. Lawar, a large village . . . is distant
twelve miles north of the civil station. . . . There is a fine house
here called Mahal Sarai, built about A.D. 1700 by Jawahir Singh,
Mahajan, who constructed the Suraj kund near Meerut' (_N.W.P.
Gazetteer_, 1st ed., vol. iii, pp. 406,400). This information,
supplied by the local officials, is more to be depended on than the
author's statement.

4. 'The "dargah" [i.e. shrine] of Shah Pir is a fine structure of red
sandstone, erected about A.D. 1620 by Nur Jahan, the wife of the
Emperor Jahangir, in memory of a pious fakir named Shah Pir. An
"urs", or religions assembly, is held here every year in the month of
Ramazan. The "dargah" is supported from the proceeds of the revenue-
free village of Bhagwanpur' (ibid., vol. iii, p. 406). The text of
the original edition gives the pilgrim's name as 'Gungishun', which
has no meaning.

5. An interesting collection of modern cases of a similar kind is
given in Balfour, _Cyclopaedia_, 3rd ed., s.v. 'Samadhi'.

6. See _ante_, chapter 15, note l4. Dr. W. B. O'Shaughnessy
contributed many scientific papers to the _J.A.S.B._ (vols. viii, ix,
x, xii, and xvi).




CHAPTER 72


Subdivisions of Lands--Want of Gradations of Rank--Taxes.

The country between Delhi and Meerut is well cultivated and rich in
the latent power of its soil; but there is here, as everywhere else
in the Upper Provinces, a lamentable want of gradations in society,
from the eternal subdivision of property in land, and the want of
that concentration of capital in commerce and manufactures which
characterizes European--or I may take a wider range, and say
Christian societies.[1] Where, as in India, the landlords' share of
the annual returns from the soil has been always taken by the
Government as the most legitimate fund for the payment of its public
establishments; and the estates of the farmers, and the holdings of
the immediate cultivators of the soil, are liable to be subdivided in
equal shares among the sons in every succeeding generation, the land
can never aid much in giving to society that without which no society
can possibly be well organized--a gradation of rank. Were the
Government to alter the System, to give up all the rent of the lands,
and thereby convert all the farmers into proprietors of their
estates, the case would not be much altered, while the Hindoo and
Muhammadan law of inheritance remained the same; for the eternal
subdivision would still go on, and reduce all connected with the soil
to one common level; and the people would be harassed with a
multiplicity of taxes, from which they are now free, that would have
to be imposed to supply the place of the rent given up. The
agricultural capitalists who derived their incomes from the interest
of money advanced to the farmers and cultivators for subsistence and
the purchase of stock were commonly men of rank and influence in
society; but they were never a numerous class.[2] The mass of the
people in India are really not at present sensible that they pay any
taxes at all. The only necessary of life, whose price is at all
increased by taxes, is salt, and the consumer is hardly aware of this
increase. The natives never eat salted meat; and though they require
a great deal of salt, living, as they do, so much on vegetable food,
still they purchase it in such small quantities from day to day as
they require it, that they really never think of the tax that may
have been paid upon it in its progress.[3]

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Obituary: Donald Westlake
Articles published by guardian.co.uk Books

Theatre review: Three Women, Jermyn Street, London
Obituary: Prolific crime novelist, Oscar-nominated screenwriter and man of many pseudonyms

Obama to feature in Marvel comic

We do not know the women's names, but their voices are quite distinct. All are pregnant. But while the first woman awaits the birth of her baby with a moon-like serenity, the other two are not so lucky. One, whose previous pregnancies have failed to go to term, is experiencing a heartbreaking late miscarriage; the other is a young student whose accidental pregnancy will end in her child being put up for adoption.

Sylvia Plath's only play was never intended for the stage, being broadcast instead on BBC radio in August 1962. Less than six months later, Plath killed herself, but not before the burst of astonishing creative energy that produced her extraordinary, terrifying Ariel poems.

Anyone who knows Plath's poetry will see the connection between Three Women and Plath's subsequent poems, particularly in the way she talks about the agony of childbirth, the rush of love for this tiny alien being, and both the wonder and wounded rawness of motherhood. It is a beautiful piece, full of startling imagery that draws you in through the sheer intensity of its femaleness, and because it so precisely articulates the emotions that are often thought but seldom voiced by women - certainly not in the early 1960s - about men, motherhood and our relationship to our bodies.

It's been 20 years since there has been an attempt at a professional stage version and - in a theatre world that happily accepts the poetic offerings of Sarah Kane and Debbie Tucker Green, or the staged possibilities of The Waves, one of Plath's own inspirations for the piece, I see no reason why it shouldn't be brought to life. Sadly, it doesn't breathe here, in a production by Robert Shaw that is clearly a labour of love, but which never finds a way to give the internal a physical reality. Plath's poetry, like most babies, is more robust than it appears - and won't break if treated with a little less reverence and considerably more grit.

Instead, what we are offered is tinkling piano music, mournful mood lighting, an innocuous pale setting, as well as three perfectly good but indisputably ladylike performances that capture none of the wounded redness of Plath's poetry, and do her the disservice of making her sound bleached and somewhat prissy. It's a pity. What might have been a wonder ends up a mere curiosity.

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