AT THE INDIAN SEASIDE

Evening Star, Issue 19918, 14 July 1928, Page 22

AT THE INDIAN SEASIDE

SHAMES AND SCORPIONS 'WARE SHARK! [Written by George Cecil, for the ‘ Evening Star.’] Although India is rich in seasides, no European dreams of “ seasiding ” at them. Some places, like Waltair, on tho east coast, where the palm trees dominate the essentially Indian surroundings, are attractive, being singularly picturesque. Indeed, with their liat-rool'ed, white-walled houses, about which the copper and yellow convolvulus grows, and their intensely green vegetation, they are truly delectable. Tim trees, literally swarm with gailyplumaged parakeets; baboons and other varieties ul the monkey tribe pejfiorm merry antics; when the wonderful Indian moon is at its brightest the country is illuminated as though by magnesium. All, in short, is fairyland. Yet tho exile fights shy of tho Indian seaside.

“And why,” you will ask, “do Anglo-Indians refuse to walk on India’s coral strand? What could bo more delightful than a background of mango trees with monkeys gambolling in tho branches and playfully hurling over-ripe mangoes at cadi other? It [lasses one’s comprehension.”. . . If, romantic reader, you were to answer your questions by going there you would quickly learn the reason. For, despito the alluring conditions, the heat during Hie greater part ol the year is positively appalling. Towards tho end of October it begins to bo bearable; November brings a refreshing .evening'breeze, December fairly cool, January suggests an English spring; but February ushers in the heat, March intensifies it. As to April 15, the first day ol tho oflicail “hot weather,” muggincss rci»ns everywhere, and for the next seven months the Europeans give.tho seaside as wide a berth as possible. No -white man goes there unless sum-a-ned by duty or business. THE SEASIDE GAMP.

Alid-wintcr, however, _ finds a lew exiles at the Indian seaside. The men shoot in the nearest jungle by day, boat of an evening, and sleep soundly o’ nights. The women find the restful life good for their jangled nerves, ami the children —in charge of an “ayah” —play “ ’neath the shade ol the shoJt’ring palm,” ax the poet has it. Accommodation being scarce, the ‘ sahib,” tho “ mcm-sahib,” and tho “ babalog ” aro housed in tents, one of which serves as a drawing 100 m, dining room, and nursery all in one. Blue and white-striped carpets (made in the local gaol) cover tho earthen floor, and “chicks” (blinds) of very thin strips of bamboo fastened together by gaudily-tinted string keep _ out the flies. Each sleeping tent has its bathroom tent attached, an arrangement which is highly approved ol by tho snakes, who arc partial to cold water. Scorpions, 100, fake up their quaitois there. , . Sea bathing is not always possible, for tho shark, ft nasty (and most unnecessary) brute may hover near at hand, ready to snap up the European, whom ho regards as an exceptionally dainty morsel. Even tho natives, who manage to turn most things to account, have no uso for the shark. Unlike tho Chinese, they do not care for tho creature’s Sin, roasted or boiled, according to taste. To them the animal is a pest and the emissary of Satan. “ ,r lis the child of tho Devil ” is how they describe it. Of an evening one puts out to sea a little way to catch a fish or two lor dinner. On tho Bombay coast a delicious flat fish, known as tho pomphret. obligingly awaits capture, but few its relations tempt tho appetite. Excellent—and gigantic—prawns arc to be found, and these arc skilfully curried by the black cook. Ho is an artist in tho curry department. Between the fishing expedition and dinner time comes a saunter in the “bazar,” where, in some places,_ tho native children smoke unsavoury cigars of village manufacture. The “momsahib” asks for native jewellery, chiefly consisting of turquoises of poor colour badly set in silver, while the “sahib’ offers to reward anyone who will put him in the way of bagging a tiger, or less pretentious game. And the “ha-ha-log ” buy toys, which, being of baked clav. do not long survive their purchase. On tho wav back to the camp the “ mem-sahib ” remembers that there is no dessert. So a small native boy climbs a palm tree and descends to earth with a conule of coi.-ounuis. the fresh milk of which is pre-eminently drinkable. As to bananas, they grow by the roadside in tho most accommodating manner imaginable. THE “FAILED 8.A.”

Madras, as a “seaside resort,’’ is none too attractive. The heat is unpleasant, the dust is frightful, and there is an atmosphere of depression. Nor is Bombay exactly popular, lor, except in December and January, tno greater part of the dav is more than trying. Still, tho surroundings are picturesque in the extreme; the hay, with Malabar Hill and the Parsec Towers of Silence as a background, is a wonderful sight. The natives also find the beach to their liking. Clad in voluminous white garments and strange headgear, they walk and talk, mostly about money, an ever-engrossing topic with thorn. Coloured students by Urn dozen search out quiet nooks; surrounded by their text books, they /diligently cram for university examinations. To become a B.A. is the native s ambition. If, however, he fails to pass, tho letters “ F.8.A.” (“ Failed 8.A.”) appear after his name, and he is as proud as a dog with two tails. Education, it thus mav ho deduced, is esteemed.

There are many delightful bungalows along the sea front, which, with their sotting of tropical trees and shrubs, brilliant (lowers and almost impossibly green lawns, are a joy to the eye. Meals are taken on the broad verandah, and after dinner one motors up Malabar Hill and admires a view such as “ poet-artists fancy.” But there are “hot-weather” moments when even Marcatc is preferable to Bombay and its attractive surroundings.