Read Mémoires d'un Éléphant blanc. English Page 26


  CHAPTER XXIV

  THE BRAHMAN

  I really knew not what to do, and my reflections grew more and moregloomy, when I noticed that I had by degrees wandered out from theforest, which now lay behind me.

  A rich plain on which were fields and meadows and villages was beforeme, stretching out as far as the eye could see. A white road traversedthis plain at some distance.

  It was now twilight; the fields were deserted, and not a peasant wasto be seen anywhere on the far-off road. I determined to reach thishighway, however, for it certainly would lead me somewhere--probablyto some city where I might be received. Cast out and rejected by myfellow-elephants, my only hope now rested on the kindness of men....

  As I was passing through a field of vegetables I could not resist thetemptation of stealing a few, and in this way appeasing to some extentmy hunger.

  Night had fallen when I gained the road. I set out to follow it,snatching a fruit now and then from the trees that bordered it.

  I had gone but a short distance when my eye fell upon a dark objectlying at the foot of the embankment. I went near, and looking closely,I saw that it was a man.... Was he dead?--or only asleep?... I sniffedat him, and felt the warmth of his breath--he was alive! I examinedhim still more closely; his clothing was ragged and stained with dustand mud. His appearance was that of a labourer, and yet, around hiswaist I noticed the "_cord_" which marked him as a Brahman. A Brahmanin such rags might be one of those who sometimes adopt the life of aBeggar, in obedience to the precepts of their religion. His breath,however, recalled the odour of certain strong liquors, imported by theEuropeans, some of which I had seen in bottles, and had smelt withdisgust; This showed that he was not leading the life of abstinencesuitable for a Mendicant Brahman. He was, no doubt, one of thoseunfortunate Brahmans fallen into poverty and disgrace--"_Apad_," asit is called in the Indian language. The holy law permits these tolabour at any kind of work, such as in ordinary circumstances would beentirely forbidden to their "caste."

  After looking at him for a long time I was able to make out hisfeatures. He had not a cruel face. No doubt he would receive me gladly,and perhaps welcome me as a gift from the Gods!... I had been so longunused to being alone that I could not endure it.... A companionshiphere offered itself.... What would it be like?... I had no means ofguessing; but even were the Brahman to prove the cruellest of masters,I felt that I would rather submit to be maltreated by him than to livealone.

  I gave him a little blow with my trunk, to waken him. He opened hiseyes, and stammered:

  "Eh!... What's that?"

  The night air, which had grown cold, now fully aroused him, and he sawme.

  "What is this? Whose elephant is this? Can it be he who has waked meup, poking me with his trunk?--does he mean to hurt me, I wonder?"

  He got up, painfully and with difficulty. I gave a few littlesupplicating whimpers, to show that, on the contrary, I was asking forhis sympathy. Pretty soon he ceased to fear me.

  "Well!" said he, "I do not know where you come from, but--bah!--that isnone of my business! We should treat animals as kindly as human beings.It looks as if you wanted to make friends with me!" I bent my head insign of assent, as I had seen men do.

  "You seem very intelligent! I am only a poor unfortunate Brahman, in'Apad,' obliged to accept the hardest, sort of work in order to live,and to labour at tasks that are far beneath my rank. No doubt I amexpiating sins committed in some former existence. But, follow me,if you choose! You shall share my poor living: and, perhaps, you mayeven prove useful to me; for one who owns an elephant can obtain morelucrative employment than he who has only his strong arms and good-willto offer."

  To show him that I accepted his proposal to live with him for thefuture, I bent my forefoot, inviting him to mount on my back. Heunderstood, and climbed up, and when he had settled himself to the bestof his ability, he said:

  "Go ahead! Follow the road before you! Perhaps the Gods have sent youto me for my advantage! Choose your own way. I have neither house norfriends; anybody may receive us who will."

  I was no longer alone; and in my forlorn condition this was a bitof good luck. I walked along the road, feeling less despondent, andcarrying my new master.

  This new master was called Moukounj. Many a time when we tramped longdistances without finding any one who would give work to either orboth of us, I would hear him talking to himself, and recounting hismisfortunes, and I ended by knowing them by heart. His tale was simpleenough. He belonged to a rich family of Brahmans, and had spent hisyouth at Lahore, where he had received instruction in all that itbehoved a Brahman to know, at the hands of excellent masters. Later onthe Rajah of the Mahrattas took him into his service as "_pourohita_";the "pourohita" is a priest whom the princes employ to offer sacrificesto the Gods in their name. I have heard the English say that richEuropeans employ priests of their own religion to perform similarduties, and that they are called "_chaplains_."

  Moukounj was highly thought of by the Rajah of the Mahrattas, whotreated him in the most friendly manner; and he might have risen toeminence and great honour, had it not been for a terrible fault. Hecould not resist the temptation of drinking strong liquors and wascontinually getting drunk. When intoxicated, he had several times beenguilty of grave infractions of the Court etiquette, and in spite of theregard felt for him by the Rajah, he was dismissed.

  This disgrace did not cure Moukounj of his weakness; on the contrary,he fell into the way of drinking more and more. At last, avoidedby everyone, turned out of every household, despised by the otherBrahmans, he finally sank to beggary, and tramped about the country,thankful to take any sort of work that offered. He had been a Cook; hehad been a Stone-mason--but everywhere his fault prevented him fromremaining any length of time.

  At present he was engaged most of the time in helping the Navvies andthe Stevedores, and he lived on very meagre wages, the greater portionof which he spent for that yellow liquor which the Europeans call"_Eau-de-Vie_" ("_Water-of-Life_")--why I do not know, for it seems tome that, far from giving them _life_, it slowly kills them!...

  Thanks to me, Moukounj was now a little better off; he hired me out tocarry heavy burthens, and himself to carry light ones; and the coarsevegetables he bought to feed me cost but very little.

  Our life was very monotonous. If we found ourselves in a city whereMoukounj could not find work--we left, and wandered on till we foundsomething to do.

  Moukounj was, on the whole, not a bad fellow--always ready to beuseful where he could--the way he had received me was proof of this!He was jolly and good-natured, and loved to remember and recite thefine speeches he had learned at Lahore. But when drunk his dispositionchanged; he grew irritable; he became ugly and violently angry; hequarrelled with his fellow-workmen, and went so far as to beat me.

  I certainly was not happy. When the work I was employed in seemedtoo humiliating, and when Moukounj lashed me with blows--I sufferedbitterly. But why rebel? Things might be worse--so I submitted.

  I thought constantly of my old life, wondering what had become of thelovely Parvati; did the Prince love her?... Was she happy?... Did sheever remember me?...

  I tried to frame replies to these questions that would be as comfortingas possible, and these thoughts softened somewhat my sorrows.

  I never could tell you the names of all the cities we saw, all therivers I crossed, the mountains I climbed with Moukounj. I rememberone French city where I helped to build a palace for the Governor; Ialso carried the rails for a tramway they were building just outsideof Madras. I did much other work of about the same kind, and I passedseveral years in this wandering and monotonous existence.