Native Home Life in India
By Mrs. J. L. Shaw
HERE in the far East under the blazing sun of a never-ending summer, and the cool breezes from the snows of the Himalaya Mountains, are found one fifth of the inhabitants of the globe. Three hundred million souls in India! One hundred and fifty million women, nine tenths of whom have never heard of the Saviour! Into some of these darkened homes where only oppression is known, the gospel message, pure and simple, is winning its way, and women bound by custom and caste as truly as though shut behind iron bars, rejoice to hear the story of salvation; and no doubt from these dark corners and high-walled homes will come forth a company to join in the song, “Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, and he will save us: . . . we will be glad and rejoice in his salvation.” In company with Sister Hansen, by means of our English Good Health, we have been gaining access to some of the homes of the high class natives of Calcutta. In the home of the widow of a king the way was opened for us to enter her apartments. As she could speak only Bengali, we made an appointment to go there again, and take Miss Burrus with us. The gentlemen of the house, prince, son-in-law, and attendants not a few, carefully inquired as to our business, and after a third attempt we were admitted into the secluded apartments of the queen. Her son-in-law conducted us to her bare, cheerless rooms, where for weeks, months, and years the greater part of her life has been spent. Should she leave it, it must be in a closely covered conveyance shut in from all observation. She received us with covered face, and her son-in-law remained by to entertain us till Sister Burrus, who knew the customs of India, that a woman is never free to speak in the presence of gentlemen, and especially her son-in-law, said, “If you will leave the room, the Moharani [great queen] will be more free to talk with us.” He quickly excused himself, and at once the queen threw off the covering from her face, and began to talk most freely with us. She said, “Why did he remain?” addressing her maid servants who were standing around. “Did he not know that this was my company; and if this lady had not told him to go, I never could have spoken to these ladies?” She then fully explained how particular she must be in the presence of her son-in-law. To speak to others in his presence would be a great breach of etiquette. She said that if she were drowning, her son-in-law or her husband’s elder brother could not save her. Her husband was killed in the earthquake five years ago. She told us how since then all joyful things had been removed from her life. Although a queen, the curse of widowhood rested upon her as heavily as upon those in less favorable circumstances. Miss Burrus talked with her, and sang the story of Christ’s second coming. She eagerly listened, and tears came to her eyes as she heard the song, Christ the friend of sinners. Though she may never be privileged to hear more of the gospel, these few seeds have been permitted to fall upon her pathway. As we left, she assured us that we would be welcome guests at any time. In many of these places the women would gladly learn of Christ, but the men fear that the women will become unsettled by their contact with Europeans. The next place we visited was a queen’s palace in reality. A young widowed queen lived here. As her husband’s father and mother were dead, she had invited her own father and mother to live with her, and the government had appointed her father administrator of her immense estate. On a former visit the father had become so interested in the principles advocated in Good Health that he visited the sanitarium, and arranged for daily treatment. He gave us a most hearty welcome, and took great pride in showing us to the apartments of his daughter, and introduced us to a queen indeed, in manners, appearance, and surroundings, a young, bright, handsome girl of twenty, but sad indeed, because a widow; for though surrounded with wealth and beauty, she must be shunned by the world, as widows are an omen of evil. A beautiful garden built on the third story of the veranda shut out the gaze of the outside world, and afforded her a place to walk among the flowers. Her yard was filled with palms and beautiful flowers, where she might walk when there were no servants on the premises, which would be an unheard-of thing in an Indian home of this size. The walls of her home were hung with paintings by her own hand. Having studied English two years, she was able to speak fluently. She expressed a desire to visit us if she might be assured that there would be no gentlemen present at the time. In the course of the conversation her father joined us, and began to explain the difference between Christians and Hindus. He said, “You Christians come here to India, and tell us that we have idols, but Christians have idols as well as Hindus.” His home was facing the great park of Calcutta, and he pointed toward the statues of Queen Victoria, Lord Roberts, and other distinguished persons, and said, “These are Christians’ idols.” The remark made quite an impression on our minds, and we have wondered if in many of our lives there are not idols as truly as the idols of wood and stone to which the Hindu bows down. Through the outward life the missionary is preaching the gospel as verily as by pen or voice. No idol must remain in his life if he hopes to raise the heathen from his idolatry. “And the heathen shall know that I am the Lord, saith the Lord God, when I shall be sanctified in you before their eyes.”