A CHARIER OF SNAKES

Evening Star, Issue 18393, 29 September 1923, Page 12

A CHARIER OF SNAKES

"THE REAL EAST."

UNCANNY POWERS OF A NOMAD. [By a Correspondent of ‘The Times.’] It was a hot day. I was sitting at my office table, which had been brought out on to the verandah to avoid tho stuffy atmosphere of the room in which I .usually work. My munshi (Indian clerk) squatted on a mat beside me, and was droning out tho day’s vernacular correspondence in his usual monotone. Gradually borne to my ears on the light breeze came tho musical chant of tho “ bin,” tho pipe used by the snaka charmers all over India, with which they are said to coax tho reptiles from their hiding-places. The founds grow louder, and presently the musician came in view. A picturesque figure he made—a saffroncolored turban wound about his head, and Ilia long, loose garments, of the same hue, waving gracefully in the wind. His foot were encased in long, pointed shoes, artistically embroidered, and across his shoulders lie carried a pole, from either end of which a cloth bundle was slung, containing all his kit and stock-in-trado. On seeing me ho halted near the cactus hedge bordering my compound, and, making a low obeisance, inquired; 11 Ap mere tamasha dekbna chahto bain?” (“Does your honor wish to see me perform?”) I told my munshi to send the man away, as I had several times seen so-called snaka charmers perform their usual entertainment, consisting of setting a mongoose to worry a half-drugged snake, from which the fangs have already been removed—a rather revolting performance. The man was preparing to move era when I suddenly thought that I would liko to buy his Their music has always fascinated mo, and is unlike anything else I have over heard. The notes aro all in a minor key, very penetrating and rather sad. Tho “ bin ” itself consists of a hollowed gourd with about six inches of tho vine attached—-the vino, too, being hollowed out and used ns a mouthpiece. A hole is cut in tho big end of tho gourd, largo enough to allow two bamboo sticks to bo inserted, and in each of those sticks is placed a reed, the joints made airtight with a kind of wax. Holes are pierced at fixed intervals in the bamboo sticks—sis or eight in one stick and one in tho other. The former produce the various notes, while the latter acts in tho same way as tho drone of tho bagpipe.

ANSWER TO A CHALLENGE. I called the man to mo and ho camo and squatted in tho verandah, after carefully placing his bundles on the ground and_ salaaming humbly. On closer acquaintance ha was rather startling. He had long, matted hair and a pair of wildlooking eyes, and his nails looked like talons. He seemed rather astonished when I asked him to sell mo his “ bin.” Apparently Englishmen do not usually make such strange requests. What could a Sahib want with a “bin”? His refusal to sell was quite definite, but, instead of going away, ho untied one of his bundles and disclosed a round, flat basket with a lid.

He then picked up his pipe, and, seating himself cross-legged before the basket, began to play. At first the notes were low and coaxing, but gradually grow in’ volume until they developed into a very spirited measure. Suddenly the lid of the basket was forced up from inside, and the distended head of a large cobra appeared. It swayed to and fro, keeping time with the music, occasionally striking at tho musician. It could do him no harm, ns its fangs had been removed. Presently tho music decreased in volume and expired in a final wail, while tho cobra sank back into tho basket. My wildlooking visitor thereupon replaced the lid, tied up his bundle, and, again salaaming, asking that he might be rewarded for his entertainment. T laughingly remarked that I did not think much of Ids performance, and added that it did not compare very favorably with a real snake charmer’s tamasha (show), such as a light between a mongoose and a snake. The man was far from abashed, but, taking my remark as a challenge, ho asked: "The Sahib thinks that this is all I cap show him—that only this feeble one (indicating tho bundle containing the cobra) will .answer my call. Como! I will show the Presence that I can entice even tho jungle snnho from his lair.” Without further ado he began to discard his clothing, leaving himself with only a cloth about his loins. Then, seizing his “ bin,’.’ ho began to play loudly, at tho same time dancing lightly to and fro, his eyes glaring madly. The music, if such it may bo called, consisted merely of two notes in a minor key played alternately in quick succession.

Swaying backwards and forwards, the snake charmer danced his way across (ho lawn toward a dense bed of flowers. Suddenly he ceased playing and came to a standstill, beckoning me eagerly to come to him. I made my way gingerly across the lawn, and as I approached he said, in a tense whisper: “Listen, Sahib! The Evil One answers my call. See! Hera ho comes.” Ho pointed to the flower bed. I could see nothing, but moved back to a safe distance. The snake charmer tore a handful of grass from the lawn and made a sudden dive into the flower bed, shouting i “Ha Shaitan! (Satan) I have caught you." There was a tremendous hiss, and the man stood upright, holding at arm’s length a 6ft viper which he had seized near the tail, while it darted its head hither and thither in a fruitless attempt to strike him.

Walking quickly across the lawn to the carriage drive, my strange visitor threw the on to the gravel, and, as it wriggled its way towards the grass, he made a quick movement and again seized it—this time behind the head. The snake was now powerless, raid the man lifted it, writhing, from the ground. Then, taking up his discarded saffron-colored robe, he rolled one corner of it into a small ball and thrust it at the reptile's head. The head shot forward, and two white fangs buried themselves deep in the cloth. The snake charmer gave tho cloth a deft twist and a sharp pull, then opened it, showing a wet patch of poison with two bleeding fangs embedded m the centre, while blood Issued from the snake’s mouth. “ See, Huzoor, the Evil One is now helpless ” quoth iho charmer, and threw the snake to the ground, where it scuttled into the verandah to avoid tha unaccustomed heat of the sun. SNAKES IN THE HOUSE. My visitor again Balaam ed and asked, in 1m flowery Eastern language, for a fitting reward. I gave him two rupees, at the same time wondering 11 ho had “planted” the snake on no with the connivance of my servants before starting his performance. I wa.s soon, however, to change my ideas. Far my visitor, as if reading my thoughts, remarked: “Is the Sahib aware that there a.re other snakes hero, even inside his house? Did I not hear them talking whilst dealing with this viper?” I was forced to smile, as I immediately concluded that the man merely wanted an opportunity to get inside my bungalow and help himself to my kit. These snake charmers all belong to criminal tribes, and live on what they can beg, borrow, or steak Again the fellow seemed to know what was passing in my mind, for he remarked : “ There is no need for mo to enter the Sahib’s house. Should he desire it, I will call the snako hither.” He picked up Ids “ bin ’ and began to play. It was a repetition of his previous dirge, but tills time he danced towards the door of a disused bathroom, which was kept locked. I followed eagerly. Dancing to and fro, the man arrived at some six paces from the door, and, playing his pipe with ouo hand, ho pointed with the other. I watched intently, and thoro I saw something move in a crack between the door-post and the brickwork. The musician continued to play, and the head of a snako appeared, then its body. Finally a krait wriggled into full view and came quickly towards tha man. It was only a small snake, some 18in long, but known os one of the moat venomous in India; its bite is fatal in three hours. It was within 3ft of the snake charme- when ho suddenly thrust out his arm and seized it behind the head. Again taking but saffron-colored robe, he

treated tho krait os he had treated tho viper. By this time I was beginning to fool rather nervous, and looked anxiously around, wondering when and where the next snako would appear. Hurriedly I gave the man another five rupees, hoping that ho would pack up and go; but he asked for an old coat to keep him warm In tho winter, Eventually I gave him a blanket, and he called down tho blessings of Allah on my head, but did not dep t art until I had given him a note certifying that the blanket was a gift. He was afraid that the police might accuse him of being in possession of stolen property. Before departure ho carefully collected his latent acquisitions from under the flower pots where they had hidden themselves, and, coiling thorn up in much the same manner as one would coil up a rope, tied them into the spare ends of his loincloth. Then, having resumed his saffroncolored robs and taken np his polo, with its accompanying bundles, he bowed low and departed. Ho was soon lost to view, but the wailing notes of his pipe were audible for some minutes, dying gradually away in the distance. Reluctantly 1 returned to my office table and tho droning voice of my “munahi,” as he resumed tho reading of tho daw’s reports. I felt that I had at last gol a glimpse of tho real East, os I had always imagined it from nursery days—the East of tho ‘Jungle Book’ and the 'Arabian Nights,’ I have since thought about the uncanny powers of my snako channel - . He belonged to a nomadic tribe, which has never lived under a roof, and which, like our English gipsies, always sleeps under the stars. When rain or cold forces th-cra to seek shelter, such shelter consists of a bivouac made of hedge sticks and old rags. Their diet consists of grass, frogs, and snakes. From childhood such people are on intimate terms with the jungle and full that it contains. They live on more or less equal terras with the creatures of tho wild, and this power which they have over snakes, and which, no doubt, they also have over other animals, appears aa strange and uncanny only to those whom the world calls civilised—whose ears have boon dulled by tho roar of the cities, tho noise of tha steam engine and the motor, and whose sight has lost Its koannea.: through too much paring over books.