We put them on again,
and left this "holy of holies" of the secular mysteries, with our
minds still more perplexed than before. In the Fakirs' Avenue we
found Narayan, Mulji and the Babu, who were waiting for us. The
chief Brahman would not hear of their entering the pagoda. All
the three had long before released themselves from the iron claws
of caste; they openly ate and drank with us, and for this offence
they were regarded as excommunicated, and despised by their
compatriots much more than the Europeans themselves. Their
presence in the pagoda would have polluted it for ever, whereas
the pollution brought by us was only temporary; it would evaporate
in the smoke of cow-dung--the usual Brahmanical incense of
purification--like a drop of muddy water in the rays of the sun.
India is the country for originalities and everything unexpected
and unconventional. From the point of view of an ordinary European
observer every feature of Indian life is contrary to what could
be expected. Shaking the head from one shoulder to another means
no in every other country, but in India it means an emphatic yes.
If you ask a Hindu how his wife is, even if you are well acquainted
with her, or how many children he has, or whether he has any sisters,
he will feel offended in nine cases out of ten. So long as the
host does not point to the door, having previously sprinkled the
guest with rose-water, the latter would not think of leaving.
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