An Indian Interlude

Press, Volume XCIX, Issue 29264, 23 July 1960, Page 3

An Indian Interlude

Indian Interlude. By Babbot. Hammond, Hammond. 255 pp. One of the essentials of a good autobiography is the creation of a bond of understanding between the writer and tlie reader. Throughout this book the author maintains for herself and- her family an obstinate anonymity which, as her name appears in connexion with the copyright, is pointless and irritating. The reminiscences in themselves, however, are interesting enough.

From 1932 to 1950 the author and her husband were resident in Northern India, where her father-in-law, referred to always as VJ.H.” was a landowner and businessman on a considerable scale. Part of his land holdings were 1000 acres in a district in the Himalayan foothills, and here he had built himself a house which he called the Abbey. This he turned over to the use of his son and daughter-in-law tor a summer residence. The first of their three sons was bom here (with no assistance save from an Indian midwife) and having nearly perished from Septicaemia the author repaired to a Lahore hospital for subsequent confinements. Being the owner of five villages—the gift of “J.H.”— theflcouple were busy enough for several months in the year cultivating their land, but it was the annual holiday at the Abbey which gave most meaning to their lives.

During those 18 years perils of every sort beset the author, and she had to have two Pasteur treatments after contacts with hydrophobic dogs. Her husband being a rioted shot, she sometimes accompanied him on shikari Which brought its own dangers, and being, like so many European women, interested in caring for the health of the poorer natives, she was caught on one occasion by her husband innocently bathing the dirt off a foot which was half eaten away with leprosy.

After the war she was to realise the full effects of the British Government’s decision to hurry on Indian independence, and was to be the sorrowful observer of the hideous carnage between Moslems and Hindus which followed. But her greatest bitterness was to see her servants whom she loved, and who she thought were fond of her, systematically and without conscience, steal every possession of the family’s on which they could lay hands. This was their last experience of India before leaving it to start life again in New Zealand.

Though she lays stress on the beauty and serenity of life in their mountain retreat, the picture Babbot. draws is not attractive to a reader unfamiliar with India. The avoidable suffering of the poor caused by dirt, disease and the indifference of their wealthy compatriots is no great recommendation Of the Indian way of life, andhavmg contributed as best she could to the welfare of the people she must have left the country without real regret. . ’