HOUSEKEEPING IN INDIA.

Otago Witness, Issue 2849, 21 October 1908, Page 80

HOUSEKEEPING IN INDIA.

THE MEMSAHIB'S TRIALS. Laws and measures, clauses and statutes for the future benefit of India, are ordi1 nary matters, ever 1 ripe for argument and discussion. But in India is one import- ! ant province concerning which neither J Viceroy nor Council may legislate, nor ! any Honourable Secretary for India arbi : ! trate. As it was in the days of John | Company, so it is now, so shall it be ■ foi a century to come. Neither po<wer nor ' authority, pomp nor circumstance shall swerve or alter this — the kingdom of the household, for all that therein is lies under the sovereignty of the servant, and there shall be none other law but his. , The neiwdy-ordained Memsahib, ignorant of the tenacity with, whioh the ordinary Indian walks in. tihe wayr of his fathers and forefathers, will not at first understand the autocracy of the servant ; more, she will resent advice on it from the ma- , tron of greater experience. She will insist on the righteousness of ponderous cookery books, patent washing machines, 1 and a French laundiy system, and will endeavour to instil a reverence for such in i the uncomprehending minds of her KhanI samah, her cook, her wash-man, and the rest of the retiraue. / | —The God of Custom.— The 6€Tvants will punctuate her 'ectuw-s • with salaams, but in the security of the cook-house, with hookahs in full smoke, will speak with igrave disrespect of the Memeahib's wisdom. ' "Huh!" one will grant, "of -what new foolishness is this young Memsahilb ! Like a storm of wind a.re her words. Truly, Allah made this Memsahib mad, or in the carriage driving she would 1 go, not speaking of euch humlble matters as brooms and bread crusts." And t«he chorus will be, "Of a truth I there is no wiedom in so much talk cf brooms and bread crusts." Then ""ill domestic India begin silently, stolidly, to demonstrate the force of Custom, and woe to the venturesome Memsahib who would dare run counter to the Indian god of Custom ! Once the servants have decreed "It is the Custom," there can be no appeal, ibe the catastrophe an earthquake, an intemperate cook, or an ice bHil which is of breathless proportions. , The Memsahib sensible enough to recognise the limitations oi her power will quickly abandon the ambition of teaching a grateful household the latest hints on using stale bread or old newspapers, as gleaned from "a ladies' paper, anJ, instead, will learn to propitiate the (god of Custom. But the bride who scorns swh weak wisdom will repent in tears ?.i d headaches — more, her male relations will arise in wrath and fling at her that awful Indian accusation, 'You cannot get on with the cook!" \ For, mark you, that Custom ordains it is not t-he cook who must get on with the Menusahib : it is she who must humour the cook ; it is she who shall be dependent on her dependants — she who shall, in truth, be the governed and not the lawgiver. Many are the stories of obstinate Memsahibs and their practical instruction in the sanctity of Custom. — A Resourceful Cook. — • There was, once upon a time, r.he Memsahib who insisted that her cook should make obeisance at the>hour of 11 daily, and render an account of all stores brought from the bazaar. The cook, with great hurrobleness, protested that 11 wa6 not the hour of Custom. TKe Memsahib replied that he could go to deep in the afternoon instead. Wh<"n, next morning, a message came to that cook from the Memsahib that she awaited his presence and his accounts, the cook sent salaams and sorrows that he was unable to leave the cookhouee. The Memsahib insisted that she waited and he must come. The greater the insistence the more profound were the salutations of the cook. In indignant haste the Memeahib repaired to the cook-house prepared to administer justice without leniency. An apologetic, dark face peered at her from the half- closed door. " It is account time," cried the Mcmi eahiib. "Come at once." ! The dark head bowed. " That shall be as the Presence commands," answered the cook. "But in half of the cloth with which I cover my unworrhv body is the pudding .of plums, now boiling, and one half i« clothing me. I am but a poor man, and cannot cut my cloth. Am Ito brin,^ the pudding with me into the Presence, or am I l o leave the pudding of plum? to its boilirt?, and will the Presence forgive the unclothing of my unworthy body?" That "same Meirwahib's sister, newly from Home, and very observant of the ways of the household, was an interested lift oner to one of the daily interviews with the cook. In her ignorance of the Hipdu.-tani language, eJie knew not that the woid piice is "dam" in the vernacular, and was .horrified at hearing the Memsahib of the house repeating the word So frequently When the cook had salaamed and de

parted, the new arrival expostulated sternly. " Really, dear," she said, " the man may be very aggravating, but it's not very nice of you to ewear co much at him. You never used to swear at home." — Unconsidered Profits. — | The resource and ingenuity of the average cook are usually beyond all anticipation, especially where his small illegitimate profits are concerned. If, for example, has Memsahib insists on the daily dinner joint combining good quality, with moderate price — a combination which finds no favour with a cook who every day brings the "bazaar" — he will institute » method of passive resistance. The dinner joint will appear for the Memsahib's morning inspection, and be beyond all cavil ; but the same .joint at the dinner hour will be found to have shrunken into skin and gristle of true awfulnees. Perhaps a disinterested Khan&amah will eventually explain the puzzle. "Cook bringing good meat morning", showing .Memsahib, selling good meat cook next door, getting cheap meat Memsahib's dinner, putting in pocket 10 annas'."' In most households the Khansainah has charge of the silver, linen, and stores, and' should the latter disappear with suspicious alacrity it is he who will swear by the beard of the Prophet Mahommed that surely in the night some devil is concerning himself with the matter, for the servant of the Presence watches the tea and* sugar with untiring fidelity all through the day. This gentleman aJso delights in the possibilities of a burra. Khana, or big dinner. Let but some half-dozen guests be due to dine at the home of the Presence, and my lord Khansamah will be almost apopletic with importance. And even the Menx&aihib who, for financial reasons, must necessarily be limited to modest entertain.- " ing will find her dinner table a-sparkle and a-gMtter most imposingly with silver and crystal borrowed from the neighbour- ' ing servants. But although it is customary and correct in India, that land of changing homes and uncertain sojourns, to borrow from a. neighbouring Khansamah silver forks and! picHe-stairds on occasion, the subterfuge is sometimes provocative of uncomfortable moment's — as, for instance, when a lady, innocent of both the byways of Indian etiquette and her Khansamah's obliging habits, may remairk : "Why, how strange ; your salt-cellars are exactly like ours — and the same initials ! How extraordinary !" I — Testimonials of Sorts. — I The Khansamah's references are one of hie most interesting connections. When engaging a new servant it is usual to demand his chite — otherwise, testimonials. These may be bona-fide references, borrowed or manufactured ones. The latter are gorgeous and wonderful inventions' written by the bazaar writer for a few pice ; the borrowed ones cost about the came to hire ; and the original testimonials may be candid enough to make such statements as : "I employed this man a month. It waa a month too long." Or "This man worked a week and stole two rupees. Don't wait for the week." The aspiring Khaneamah will present such documents with a deep salaam and confiding smile, but a little experience of the results wiM generally convince him of the superiority of the bazaar "^writers' chits. | But no Khansamah contretemps excels in naivete the following incident, -with which all young Mem-brides from England are solemnly warned. At the dinner table one evening the Khansamah was bidden to note the smudged state of the drinking glasses. He apologised and retreated with them into the pantry. A thirsty and impatient Sahib presently followed him to rescue a glass, and found the Khansamah seated on the ground energetically polishing the glasses with a sock. He expostulated with the erring one, and awaited an explanation. "Why am I beaten?" cried the Khan* fiamah indignantly ; "the sock is but a dirty one." — Evelyn G. Cole, in the Daily Mail."