<p>Circa 1839. Tipu Sultan had been vanquished and the British had successfully established their reign in the vast region called Mysore. Bangalore had a thriving cantonment and many English families were setting up their homes in the city. The time was ripe for travellers to explore the land and experience the sight, sound and smells of the Mysore state. Some of the earliest explorers of the land were the missionaries. One such missionary was Rev. William Arthur, a Wesleyan minister, who set sail from England ‘on a voyage to the East’. In his book, ‘A Mission to Mysore’, apart from the religious discourses, he vividly documents Mysore state, its people, their social and religious life. <br /><br />The 500 and odd pages give us a detailed description of his long arduous journey, first impressions of India as he embanks in Madras, the journey into ‘up country’ Bangalore, the simple village life in the then Mysore state, the socio-religious practices prevalent then and also a peep into the Vedas, albeit through the eyes of a missionary.<br /><br />The voyage<br /><br />Long sea voyages are always adventurous and exciting. In his book, Rev Arthur pens his excitement of his first whale sighting, dolphin watching and the different hues of the sky during the sunset that ‘outstrips the vocabulary and delights the eye.’ Not that it was all rosy and sweet; the journey was also fraught with sickness and death and the missionaries regularly offered their services during such occasions. During the journey, the missionaries had to learn the ‘native’ languages to preach, the “rudiments of which were perplexing without a living tutor”. </p>.<p>Coming from an English background, it was naturally difficult for Rev Arthur to learn a language where there was a “want of capital letters and division between words and of stops and no space between letters.” Trying to learn Canarese (Kannada) was even difficult when the ship was tossed in rough seas with the book jolting and the lamps swinging violently; they had to read by snatches, “like boys in a class”, he recalls.<br /><br />It is interesting to note the European mindset of that time as he describes with excitement to see a land of people such as “Hyder, the Napolean of the East; Tipu uniting the cruelty of Nero with the religious bigotry of Mary; Carey with the faith of Ibrahim and powers of Gratius; Wellington, rising on the furthest horizon of our empire.”<br /><br />Tryst with India<br /><br />As his ship lands in Madras dockyard, he sees a ‘Tamul boatman’ whom he recalls as “a man of light frame nearly jet black, and a destitute of drapery, except a very scanty morsel” and marvels at the catamarans, much different from an English boat that the native fishermen use.<br /><br />The natives, he says, are keen students of character and is very impressed when a native quickly scans him and understands that he is a missionary. Walking through the busy streets of the then Madras, he is also captivated by the vivid colours of women’s saris. </p>.<p>Though enamoured by the sights of Madras, Rev Arthur makes the journey ‘up country’ to Bangalore where he has to start his mission. He describes Bangalore as a city with broad roads, tree lined avenues and bungalows. The city centre, he explains has a chapel “that houses around 300 people”. “In front of the chapel stretches an open esplanade more than a mile long. On the right hand side extends a series of barracks capable of accommodating a regiment of European Cavalry, one Infantry and two of Sepoys. On the opposite side is a row of houses, a large assembly room and an English Church. At the head of the esplanade is the house of General Cubbon,” he explains.<br /><br />Military air of Bangalore<br /><br />The military air of the city is inescapable; whether it’s in the manoeuvring of the hussars, parade of regiment of sepoys, or the sound of the artillery being practised. The town is more English with very few natives who are mostly Tamil or Mussalmans. The summation of the cantonment in his own words - “the sparkle of military costume, combined with the richness of the foliage, the beauty of the sky, the natives, the palankeens and an occasional train of elephants give a romantic air to Bangalore.”<br /><br />The Cantonment, he states, “is what first meets eye as Bangalore and what many of the residents regard as such, treating the pettah (the real Bangalore) as mere appendage, which they seldom see, some of them never.’ The population of pettah, he estimates at sixty or eighty thousand.<br /><br />Mysoreans, he says, were far less accustomed to foreign rule, and maintained an independent bearing. They lived in the pettah two miles from the military centre and were divided by a dense tope (grove), which had become a perfect metropolis of monkeys. Rev Arthur takes us through the grove with the stories of Hanuman and the veneration that Hindus have for the vicious monkeys. </p>.<p>As he crosses the gate of the fort, he opens the pettah to the eye of a European: “Here is a strong contrast to the broad avenues and the military town of Bangalore. There are no red bricks, grey stones, windows, balconies or lamp posts. You see a long moderately narrow street with houses of one story, flat-roofed and whitewashed and windowless. Parallel with them runs a thinly planted avenue of cocoa-nut trees. Monkeys are countless and scrambling up the side walls, playing antics up the roof, bounding from the houses to the trees, and peering everywhere in search of plunder.<br /><br />The street is thronged by turbaned men, some fully clad in shining white, the majority bare from the waist up, some with flowing beard, some with moustache and some with every hair shaven from the very eyebrow. There are a number of women bearing water pots, some basket of fruits, some having a child on the hip with its face against the mother’s side. His first glimpse of an Indian bazaar is equally descriptive. </p>.<p>“Instead of the grand buildings and glittering display that suit your Eastern notions, there is the same long narrow street, differing only in this – that the houses are not built up in the front but open in the fashion of a coach house.” Though he admires the vivid colours of the Indian dresses, he is amused by the lack of fashion in men. He justifies that with the fact that “the endless variety of articles which a cold climate and changeful fashions have introduced into Europe is unknown where the breezes are kindly and a man is content to dress like his grandfather”.<br /><br />Food habits<br /><br />Though rice was used in general, the author states that raagi was the staple food of Mysore. On making of the dish, he describes, “It is ground, made into a sort of thick pudding, rolled up between the hands into long quids, which are dipped into a condiment formed of several spices, and swallowed by efforts that none can make who has not had the benefit of early training.” </p>.<p>“The natives look with contempt of the imbecile frames of those who eat only rice,” he says, while giving an example of a conversation with a man on this subject. “Said a youth to me one day, in extolling his country’s food, as would a Scot his bannocks, “Sir, an hour after a meal of rice, you feel as if you had eaten nothing; it is melted and gone: but, after a meal of raagi, it is just as if a cannon-ball had sat down in your stomach; it stands by you the livelong day.”’ The missionary’s work is an excellent window to an India 200 years back.</p>
<p>Circa 1839. Tipu Sultan had been vanquished and the British had successfully established their reign in the vast region called Mysore. Bangalore had a thriving cantonment and many English families were setting up their homes in the city. The time was ripe for travellers to explore the land and experience the sight, sound and smells of the Mysore state. Some of the earliest explorers of the land were the missionaries. One such missionary was Rev. William Arthur, a Wesleyan minister, who set sail from England ‘on a voyage to the East’. In his book, ‘A Mission to Mysore’, apart from the religious discourses, he vividly documents Mysore state, its people, their social and religious life. <br /><br />The 500 and odd pages give us a detailed description of his long arduous journey, first impressions of India as he embanks in Madras, the journey into ‘up country’ Bangalore, the simple village life in the then Mysore state, the socio-religious practices prevalent then and also a peep into the Vedas, albeit through the eyes of a missionary.<br /><br />The voyage<br /><br />Long sea voyages are always adventurous and exciting. In his book, Rev Arthur pens his excitement of his first whale sighting, dolphin watching and the different hues of the sky during the sunset that ‘outstrips the vocabulary and delights the eye.’ Not that it was all rosy and sweet; the journey was also fraught with sickness and death and the missionaries regularly offered their services during such occasions. During the journey, the missionaries had to learn the ‘native’ languages to preach, the “rudiments of which were perplexing without a living tutor”. </p>.<p>Coming from an English background, it was naturally difficult for Rev Arthur to learn a language where there was a “want of capital letters and division between words and of stops and no space between letters.” Trying to learn Canarese (Kannada) was even difficult when the ship was tossed in rough seas with the book jolting and the lamps swinging violently; they had to read by snatches, “like boys in a class”, he recalls.<br /><br />It is interesting to note the European mindset of that time as he describes with excitement to see a land of people such as “Hyder, the Napolean of the East; Tipu uniting the cruelty of Nero with the religious bigotry of Mary; Carey with the faith of Ibrahim and powers of Gratius; Wellington, rising on the furthest horizon of our empire.”<br /><br />Tryst with India<br /><br />As his ship lands in Madras dockyard, he sees a ‘Tamul boatman’ whom he recalls as “a man of light frame nearly jet black, and a destitute of drapery, except a very scanty morsel” and marvels at the catamarans, much different from an English boat that the native fishermen use.<br /><br />The natives, he says, are keen students of character and is very impressed when a native quickly scans him and understands that he is a missionary. Walking through the busy streets of the then Madras, he is also captivated by the vivid colours of women’s saris. </p>.<p>Though enamoured by the sights of Madras, Rev Arthur makes the journey ‘up country’ to Bangalore where he has to start his mission. He describes Bangalore as a city with broad roads, tree lined avenues and bungalows. The city centre, he explains has a chapel “that houses around 300 people”. “In front of the chapel stretches an open esplanade more than a mile long. On the right hand side extends a series of barracks capable of accommodating a regiment of European Cavalry, one Infantry and two of Sepoys. On the opposite side is a row of houses, a large assembly room and an English Church. At the head of the esplanade is the house of General Cubbon,” he explains.<br /><br />Military air of Bangalore<br /><br />The military air of the city is inescapable; whether it’s in the manoeuvring of the hussars, parade of regiment of sepoys, or the sound of the artillery being practised. The town is more English with very few natives who are mostly Tamil or Mussalmans. The summation of the cantonment in his own words - “the sparkle of military costume, combined with the richness of the foliage, the beauty of the sky, the natives, the palankeens and an occasional train of elephants give a romantic air to Bangalore.”<br /><br />The Cantonment, he states, “is what first meets eye as Bangalore and what many of the residents regard as such, treating the pettah (the real Bangalore) as mere appendage, which they seldom see, some of them never.’ The population of pettah, he estimates at sixty or eighty thousand.<br /><br />Mysoreans, he says, were far less accustomed to foreign rule, and maintained an independent bearing. They lived in the pettah two miles from the military centre and were divided by a dense tope (grove), which had become a perfect metropolis of monkeys. Rev Arthur takes us through the grove with the stories of Hanuman and the veneration that Hindus have for the vicious monkeys. </p>.<p>As he crosses the gate of the fort, he opens the pettah to the eye of a European: “Here is a strong contrast to the broad avenues and the military town of Bangalore. There are no red bricks, grey stones, windows, balconies or lamp posts. You see a long moderately narrow street with houses of one story, flat-roofed and whitewashed and windowless. Parallel with them runs a thinly planted avenue of cocoa-nut trees. Monkeys are countless and scrambling up the side walls, playing antics up the roof, bounding from the houses to the trees, and peering everywhere in search of plunder.<br /><br />The street is thronged by turbaned men, some fully clad in shining white, the majority bare from the waist up, some with flowing beard, some with moustache and some with every hair shaven from the very eyebrow. There are a number of women bearing water pots, some basket of fruits, some having a child on the hip with its face against the mother’s side. His first glimpse of an Indian bazaar is equally descriptive. </p>.<p>“Instead of the grand buildings and glittering display that suit your Eastern notions, there is the same long narrow street, differing only in this – that the houses are not built up in the front but open in the fashion of a coach house.” Though he admires the vivid colours of the Indian dresses, he is amused by the lack of fashion in men. He justifies that with the fact that “the endless variety of articles which a cold climate and changeful fashions have introduced into Europe is unknown where the breezes are kindly and a man is content to dress like his grandfather”.<br /><br />Food habits<br /><br />Though rice was used in general, the author states that raagi was the staple food of Mysore. On making of the dish, he describes, “It is ground, made into a sort of thick pudding, rolled up between the hands into long quids, which are dipped into a condiment formed of several spices, and swallowed by efforts that none can make who has not had the benefit of early training.” </p>.<p>“The natives look with contempt of the imbecile frames of those who eat only rice,” he says, while giving an example of a conversation with a man on this subject. “Said a youth to me one day, in extolling his country’s food, as would a Scot his bannocks, “Sir, an hour after a meal of rice, you feel as if you had eaten nothing; it is melted and gone: but, after a meal of raagi, it is just as if a cannon-ball had sat down in your stomach; it stands by you the livelong day.”’ The missionary’s work is an excellent window to an India 200 years back.</p>
