INDIA REVISITED: VIII. TRAVANCORE, THE ENCHANTED LAND
By F. YEATS-BROWN
[Mr. Yeats-Brown's ninth article, which will appear next week under the title of "Indian India," deals further with life in the territories ruled by the Indian princes.] " THERE must have been many pourings to make 1: the country so fertile," said the estimable merchant with whom I travelled to Trivandrum, as he looked out of the window at a prospect of lush paddy- fields and waving palms.
He was right. The dry climates of the north charge the system with electricity, but leave a desolate look upon the face of the earth. The aspect of Travancore, on the contrary, is such that you would expect to find in it, as you do, a gentle, charming, educated and uxorious people. It is cut off by mountains from the rest of India. It has never been conquered ; and it is the most literate State in the country, spending a fifth of its revenue on education.
" Look at all the hubbubs we hear in the north ! " said the estimable merchant. " Here we have no bothers like that of Shahidgunj." (He was alluding to a mosque within the precincts of a Sikh temple in Lahore, which had recently been the cause of riots.) " We Moslems are few in Travancore, but the Maharajah Sahib treats us all as his children."
True. The poison of religious hatred is almost un- known in Indian States. In British India, alas, tension is growing between the two chief religions. Moslems will complain that music is played by Hindus in such a manner as to disturb them , at their devotions, or Hindus will allege that cows arc being killed too close to their place of worship. Several such disturbances have occurred this year. Travancore has a variety of creeds, and has been tolerant of them all for more than a century. The last upset was in 1823, when the Brahmins objected to the women of the depressed classes covering their breasts in public. Now, of course, the depressed classes are almost everybody's darlings. This year an " untouchable " has been made a Judge of the High Court.
There are 1,750,000 Christians in Travancore, of whom the Roman Catholics number nearly a million. Next come the various Eastern or Syrian rites, with 515,000 followers. The remainder are various kinds of Pro- testants. The fact that there are no fewer than 21 other Bishops and Archbishops in the State points to the difficulty of achieving unity amongst a people accustomed to the infinite complexity of the Hindu pantheon. The Salvation Army has 1,251 centres in these parts. The C.M.S. has 112 churches. The L.M.S. established the first Christian Girls' School at Nagercoil, near Cape Cormorin, in 1819. It is now a flourishing community with more than 700 pupils, and 100 students living in hostels. Seeing these barefoot, lustrous-eyed maidens cooking, sewing, playing quoits and basket-ball, attending lectures under electric fans, I wished that .the citizens who provided for this school long ago, and those who are still providing for it, could see it now that it is so securely and prosperously established. Many kind thoughts go back and forth between sunny Nagercoil and foggy London. .
The oldest Christian rite, not only in Travancore, but perhaps in the world, is the .Syro-Malankaran, whose adherents claim that St. Thomas himself baptised the first of them, when he landed on this coast in 59 A.D. He called them Nazarenes, for the term Christian had not yet come into use: . (Acts xi. 26). The first converts were Brahmins ; and one of their, early Bishops, John, was at the Council of Nicaea in 325 A.D.
In September, 1930, after many decades, of negotiation and discussion, five Syro-Malankarans successfully applied to the Chair of St. Peter for permission to retain their liturgy while becoming members of the Catholic Church. The Pope established the ecclesiastical Province of Trivandrum in June, 1932. and designated Dr. Mar Ivanios as the Archbishop Metropolitan for the faithful of this rite.
At present the new Archbishop possesses jurisdiction over only some 30,000 followers and 50 priests, but the numbers are increasing daily. He is a tall man, still young, with Wonderful dark eyes and a magnetic per- sonality. He began life as a Professor of Economics, but soon gave up his academic career, which had been a brilliant one, in order to devote himself to the priesthood of his native Church. Before he was called to his present position he had established 147 parishes and 30 schools in Travancore, as well as two Orders—the Brotherhood and the Sisterhood of the Imitation of Christ—which are forest hermitages in the typical Indian tradition. * * * * *
His present Highness, the Maharajah of Travancore, ascended the throne of his ancestors in 1931, after his mother had ruled as Regent for eight years. In Travan- core the ancient custom of descent through the female line prevails, not only in the reigning family, but through the whole Nair community, so that the eldest son of the eldest sister is heir, thereby preserving the hereditary blood against taint ; or, more accurately, insuring that half the family genes are in fact the genes of that family.
. Is it matriarchy which has made this-an enchanted land? There is no doubt that the position of women has con- duced to a distinctive culture, and that their predominant influence has brought with it a certain serenity. Conjugal quarrels are uncommon. Middle-class Nair women arc faithful to their husbands while bearing children ; after- wards they please themselves. The husband is often relegated to the background, but he does not seem to find that that situation is at all intolerable. Life is simple in Travancore. Taxes are light and the ground fertile. Women arc gay and kind.. For food you have only to pull a few bananas off a tree. The bathing is the best in the world. If to the intoxication of the tropic night you would add a stronger draught, the toddy palm is. there to yield its juice. Every prospect pleases, and Bishop Heber abused his licence as a poet when he said of these regions that " only man is vile." But I suspect him of being an anti-feminist, for he wrote a delicious lyric to his wife in which he described her as listening to the reading of his poems with a " meek, attentive ear."
The Women's College in Trivandrum is a magnificently equipped institution, with students whose academic qualifications are as noteworthy as their charm is excep- tional. The College is administered by a clever young Englishwoman, still in her twenties, and is constantly visited and supervised by Her Highness the Junior Maharani. Comparisons are invidious, and I have few qualifications as an inspector of seminaries, but I never saw a jollier gathering of girls.
As to the Women's Hospital, I can say with confidence that it is one of the best in all India, for has not Lady Willingdon said so in the visitors book ? No one could be a better judge. The . hospital Is managed entirely by Indian. women doctors. When Dr. •Lukhose took charge twenty years ago, there were fifty patients. Now there is a daily average of 350 out-patients and 250 in-patients. although the accommodation for the latter consists of 150 beds. The bedless lie on the floor, and are glad to be there. - The deliveries in the Maternity Ward average seven a day. Dr. Lukhose has a dozen doctors under her, and in addition to managing the hospital she performs three or four major operations every week. Every second year she sends out fifteen fully-trained midwives. .Would that she could train 1,500 a year : they would all And immediate employment. * Travancore is famous for its national dances, but this was not the season of the year for the Khattakali mime, nor for the religious masques. Quite unexpectedly, however, I saw the dancing of some little girls in a Trivandrum High School.
Hundreds of children crowded, round my car when I arrived. Being photographed sent them into ecstasies of delight. Upstairs, I thought I was going to see an ordinary school. I do not know any Malayalam, and the head mistress (exceptionally) did not speak any English, so I could not make out why she wanted me to sit in a solitary chair in an empty hall. However, I did as I was bid. Immediately the whole school entered and sat down on the floor. Then sixteen little girls floated towards us . . . floated in like leaves and blossoms borne on a spring wind. They were demure, graceful children, aged from eight to twelve, in saris of crimson, and lemon, and green, and silver, wearing violets and jasmine in their glossy-black hair, so that the whole room was filled With perfume. Looking towards their leader, who was a little older and decidedly plumper than the others, they formed a ring in single file behind her, and broke into sudden, shrill song; dancing and turning with arms outstretched, supplicating, enticing, admonishing, calling down the wrath of Heaven, like the figures on an Etruscan vase. Their voices, bodies, hands, the cling-clang of their anklets, and the tread of their bare feet were all in Perfect rhythm. The song changed from love to war. When they stamped, they stamped so unitedly that the whole room shook : musth elephants might have been posturing before me instead of little girls : then, without pause, they glided on, swift and noiseless, even their anklets making no sound. Voices whispered and sank : they were ghosts in a scented silence. Presently the theme rose again to heroic heights : they were worshipping Padman- abhaswami, the lotus-navelled god to whom the city is dedicated (as Savonarola made God the Podesta of Flor- ence), they were welcoming the Man-Eagle that is the vehicle of Vishnu, and they were playing as milkmaids before the Divine Cowherd of Ilrindaban.
An hour passed like a minute. They sank to the floor exhausted. The spectators shouted and clapped and laughed ; and again everyone went into ecstasies on seeing my camera. But for me the picture is nothing : these children live and move.
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