Table Of ContentA TRYST WITH THE GODS
BY
M,M. SALANAVE
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Th Chariot of Th Daw.n
see page 15
This design was inspired somewhat by a painting on the ceiling
pedaneInldofianthearItnisdt.ianMrr.ooNma,gaBrokmerb,aywhAort inSchtouorln, twheaswionrskpirofeda tbyaletnhte
noble Mural paintings of Adjanta caves. The one responsible for
tthhies cilrleudsittr,atifionanythetrheefroere be,premfearys rtoeflerecmt abinackintotheMrb.acNkaggraoruknadr tahnadt
the ancient Buddhist monks artists of 2,000 years ago.
A TRYST WITH THE GODS
BY
M. M. SALANAVE
Copyright 1932 by
M. M. SALANADE
PRINTED IN U. S. A.
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Harbison & Harbison
Oceano,California
Prolusion
India- an impression
There is a pretty and ancient legend of a fairy who, by
w
some strange la of her being, was compelled to appear
at times disguised as an ugly snake. Those who injured her
while in this guise were banned forever from receiving any
of the blessings she was capable of bestowing. To those who
sympathized and defenıled her, in spite of her repulsive ooutefr
appearance, she eventually revealed herself in her true form
pristine beauty. And rich Was their reward - temporal and
spiritual
. *
Life is full of things to wonder at in India, full of strange, un
expected bewildering sights and sounds She can excite your sympathy
, .
and horror. She can freeze your blood with her pestilences, lepers and
monsters manufactured and real. Bu,t she can also fire you with
admiration for her matchless beauties and evidences of ancient culture
for, be it remembered, India was old in science and philosophy ages be
fore America, *land of Speed and Efficiency experts, became the high
powered civilization she boasts of being today.
*(Incidentally, Americans should also remember they have India to thank for
bcheainngce'ddisoconveroeudr.'lanTdhaatndCobluemliebvuisn,g seheekihnagd toreafcinhdedahinseagroear,l roinuatpeprotopriaIntedlyia,
named the natives INDIANS
.)
Yes, without doubt life is full of things to wonder at in India. But
it takes much patience and many days of time—weeks and months
when it can be managed—to even dimly glimpse the heart of the true
Mother India. Mere surface -seeing is futile. There is also a difference
in seeing. Many see only with their eyes, others through them. But to
see any place well and truly one must remain there long enough for
the spell of glamour and strangeness, even hideousness if there be any,
to wear away and fade entirely out of the picture --through familiarity.
Being a self-reliant, far venturing sort, I choose to travel alone at
half speed , leisurely exploring strange places rather than to race about
with tourist parties—presumably too timid to travel except in packs. In
droves they take passage on excursion boats that return them home again
like unclaimed letters in a post bag—'around the world in sixty days.'
The rule is to 'do” a country in a fortnight, or less, rushing from hotel
in taxi, guidebook in one hand, a sterilized and medicated handkerchief
in the other for emergencies, stopping off a day here, an afternoon
there, a forenoon elsewhere, then on the way rejoicing. One is re
minded of driver ants. But to merely 'walk right in and turn around and
walk right out again', superficially exploring famous places appeals not
to me. I'd rather remain at home and just dream of far places.
An overweening American woman on tour in India told me she did'
2
Benares in one day ! Benares, house of Shiva , and built before Time the
Destroyer was born. Benares , ‘ red-rose city of the gods', with its carved
marble temples, gilded fanes, cloud-capped palaces, serpentine streets
and crowded bazaars, busy ghats seething with unnumbered thousands of
bathers, the holy Ganges, bejewelled sacred cows, beggars, lepers, yogis
and ash-smeared ascetics, 'done' in a day!
My sensations and impressions of India were gained by staying
there long enough —would that it had been longer —to perceive oc
casional streaks of sunlight 'mid the darkness and, better yet, to not mis
take streaks of sunlight for the sun itself.
Greatly fancying unusual experiences, and not unduly squeasy, I
did not at all mind being pushed aside by pampered bulls or jostled
by beggars; neither wasI shocked at the sight of thousands of ascetics
covered with nothing more substantial than an air of abstraction and
sometimes a daub of ashes.
And I never tired of admiring India's daughters, graceful gentle crea
tures with lustrous eyes,‘humble as grass, patient as a tree.' Even though
a Hindu woman be a maharani, she is still meek and humble, for she
realizes she is born of the unfortunate sex, of a lower birth, behind
which lies an inscrutable mystery and about which she is strangely re
luctant ever to speak. The West therefore remains in blissful ignorance.
3
These are the 'patient and resigned' little mothers of India to whom
the West sadly points as being ignorant and unhappy . Patience and resigna
tion and a sweet spirit of reasonableness do not seem to aptly describe
Western women , particularly American women . Someone has had the
temerity to suggest that our so-called modern education often breeds
discontent and dissatisfaction from which the ignorant seem to be
singularily free.
At any rate, it is certain that the life of the average Hindu
woman , which so often calls forth pity and protest from her Western
sisters, does not mean at all what we of the West think it does. And,
incredible as it seems, most of India's daughters instead of feeling envy
for our emancipated condition, actually lament our mistaken ideas of
life and its real purpose.
Before a redundance of sympathy is poured upon the 'poor little
mothers of India,' consider that 'wells of loneliness,' so peculiarily a
Western exigency, are unheard of in India.
Many Westerners call Hindus idolaters. Yet, no'twice-born' son of
India who knows his Gita, as do most of the cultured and educated, be
lieves in any divine attributes of the red stone lingam,s the carved
serpents and elephant-headed stone and wooden images seen every
