I HAVE thus far tried to present my readers with a picture of life in an Indian village. There are a good many more subjects connected with it upon which a great deal could be written. Much might be said about the sports and games daily indulged in by the village people, as well as about marriage and funeral ceremonies, which, however, are not peculiar to villages only. Reference might also be made to the village panchayets, of which most of my readers have probably heard. In former times disputes regarding property and caste differences, and disputes arising from breaches of social morality, were all decided by the panchayets, a tribunal composed of five of the most respectable members of the village.
A description of this old and useful institution, which is fast dying out, would be out of place in what professes to be an account of village life as it is at the present day. I hope I have made my sketches of village life in Southern India sufficiently complete to induce in my readers an interest in the welfare of the toiling people who form the majority in this, the greatest dependency of the British Empire. Before closing, however, I wish to make a few reflections on what appears to me noticeable features of Indian village life.
The first is the extreme importance attached to religion. Every other thing gives way to this important aspect of Hindu life. In religion, the Hindu lives, moves, and has his being. His whole action, his whole thought, all that he does day by day, and on occasions of marriages and funeral ceremonies, is tinged with religion. The one pervading idea with the Hindu is how to get rid of future births and obtain eternal beatitude. We have seen how in dramatic performances gods are introduced to bless a truthful and honest man, how educated animals are trained to act the parts of Rama, Laksh- mana, and Sita, and how in popular tales recited in Hindu homes the religious element is largely introduced. We thus find religion to be the foundation of everything Hindu. The very construction of an Indian village bears ample evidence to this fact. A temple is built and dedicated to the deity worshipped, and round the temple a village springs up. It is a rare phenomenon in India, at least in Southern India, to find a village without a temple. The religious Hindu will not settle down in a village where there is no temple, and where, accord- ingly, he has no chance of acquiring religious merit. Our ancient rajahs were careful, when establishing a new village, to build a temple in the centre and endow it munificently. There is also to be found in every Indian village a small temple built in honour of the gramathe- vatha (village deity), which is said to guard the village from all sorts of pestilential diseases. I have given a description of Angalammal, the deity of Kélambakam, and the doings of the temple priest, from which my readers will have learned how the lower classes of the people frequent the temple, carrying flesh, liquor, and other things with them. This custom among Hindus, of worshipping gods and goddesses supposed to preside over pestilential diseases and evil spirits, seems to be a remnant of pre- Aryan times, which on account of the cowardice of the Hindu and his natural delicacy of feeling concerning religion has continued down to the present day. This is the reason why we find this base form of religion prevailing amongst the lower classes of the people, even after the introduction of the purer and higher religion of the Brahmins.
We have seen, however, that the constitution of a village makes provision for the higher religion. We have seen how grants of land have been made for the due performance of worship in the temples. The temple priests and the Brahmin Purohita, who minister to the religious wants of the villagers, have also lands set apart for their use. The lands given to these men are larger in extent than those given to the other servants of the village com- munity; thus showing that religion is deemed of the highest importance by the villagers.
A second important feature of village life is the desire on the part of the inhabitants to secure facilities for water. The village of Kelambakam is situated, as we have seen, on the borders of the river Palar, and it will be found that the large towns and villages in India are generally built on the banks of rivers, or wherever there is plenty of water obtainable. There is also in Kélambakam a large tank, and all villages which are not irrigated by rivers and channels have tanks large enough to hold water to irrigate the fields for about six months in the year. There are also to be found in villages tanks of smaller dimensions, neatly built by the side of the temple, to which the villagers, both male and female, go every morning to bathe. Water is of the utmost importance to the Hindu villager, and really forms one of the inducements for him to settle down in a village. In tropical climates, and in a country like India, where agriculture forms the chief occupation of the people, water is highly necessary. It is also very necessary for the daily ceremonies of the Hindus. Daily washing is enjoined as a religious duty. No wonder, therefore, that we find Hindus sacri- ficing everything else for water convenience. When two Hindus meet and make inquiries of each other’s welfare, the first question asked is whether their respective villages have been blest with rain. Again, when two strangers meet and speak about the relative merits of their villages, the palm is given to the village that can boast of what is called jalasavukiam (water convenience). It is in watering places. that we find people, male and female, meeting and talking all sorts of scandals. It is there that one gets all the news of the village. The construction of a Hindu village depends largely on the water facilities which the selected site affords.
The third thing that strikes me as noticeable is the mutual service system, which is here carried to perfection and practised with success. We in modern times are accustomed to use money as the medium by which we obtain all our requirements. But in Indian villages from time immemorial it has been the practice to render mutual service. The barber attends to the carpenter in return for service rendered to him in making ploughs and other necessary wooden implements. In return for the crow- bar, sickle, and spade supplied by the black- smith, the potter makes cooking vessels and pots for storing grain and other articles of human consumption. The washerman washes.
the clothes of the vythian (physician). This system does not promote competition among village workmen, and the result is that village artisans have not reached a very high state of efficiency in their work. This is one of the disadvantages of the system of mutual service, and there are others, but it has on the whole very well suited the conditions and circum- stances of India.
Still another thing that strikes me as interest- ing is that each village is a little state in itself, with its king in the person of the headman, its minister of finance in the person of the karnam, and so on. There is unity and perfection even in small things, and the meanest villager is thus educated in the art of government, for what is a Hindu kingdom but a congeries of small kingdoms modelled exactly on the principles that govern the larger kingdom ?
The chief characteristics of Indian villagers are their simplicity, contentment, and habits of working hard. In food, in dress, and in many other things they are simple. They are not silly and do not waste money on mere frivoli- ties. Although it is true that Hindus show a lamentable weakness for jewels, the charge cannot be laid at the door of the villagers. They are very contented, and they have no high ambitions. If they get enough of rain, and are able to raise sufficient food to sustain them for a year, they are satisfied. They work very hard, and do not think of anything else but their work. They work when there is work, and play when there is no work, and enjoy life’s pleasures most keenly. If in Eng- land public recitations are given by men who have studied the art of elocution to perfection, the simple villager of India has his bards to recite to him interesting old tales for a handful of rice. If civilized Europe can boast of highly trained horses and other intelligent animals, acrobats performing extraordinary gymnastic feats, and jugglers doing wonderful things, the Indian villager has his jugglers and acrobats, his snake-charmers and animal-tamers, ready to show their skill for a small sum. If in other countries opera-houses, theatres, and other similar public places of amusement are maintained at enormous cost, the poor Indian rustic has his village troupe to amuse him for seven shillings a night. And if in foreign countries learned divines thrill the hearts of their congregations with the fire of their elo- quence, the villagers here have their preacher to sermonize on the popular incidents of the Ramayana and the Mahabaratha. But there is an important difference between the two. In the one the highly trained and civilized mind of Europe yearns after perfection in social delights and enjoyments, and cares not how much money is spent, while the Indian villager rests satisfied with what was instituted for his amuse- ment hundreds of years ago, and which time and the altered circumstances of the country have not in the least changed.
A very marked characteristic of the Indian villager is his extremely conservative nature. His life in general flows smoothly on, unruffled by anything uncommon, and undisturbed by the many conflicting interests that are at work in the outside world. Of these he has scarcely an idea. Centuries of isolation have confined him to his home, and even in modern times the civilizing agencies that are at work elsewhere leave him unaffected. To quote the words of Professor Max Müller: “The village is his world, and the sphere of public opinion with its beneficial influences seldom extends beyond the horizon of his village.” A stereotyped and a highly conservative mode of living is adopted which often leads him to look down with contempt upon the changes which are being wrought every day around him, and everything with him seems, as Carlyle would say, " to lie at anchor in the stream of time regardless of all changes." Years have rolled away, changes have been vast and varied, and changes of government have been many, and still the Indian villager resembles exactly his prototype of at least one thousand years ago.
But even this extreme conservatism of the Indian villager has to contend against the highly progressive tendencies of modern times. “The ways of the world,” to quote Carlyle once more, “are more anarchical than ever. . . . We have got into the age of revolutions. All kinds of things are coming to be subjected to fire as it were ; hotter and hotter the wind rises around everything.” India is now advancing at a re- markably rapid rate, and new features are appearing even in the life of an Indian village. It is not my intention here to enumerate all those new features that have arisen, but I will mention two which seem to me to be very important, and which will require to be looked into sooner or later.
Owing to the nature of land taxation in India, by which payment of revenue is made in coin and not in grain, as was the case in olden times during the days of Hindu rajahs, a new class of people have sprung up who of all the people seem to be particularly favoured in their trade. These are the money-lenders, and every village has its usurer. I have in my account of Muthusamy Chetty, the usurer of Kélam- bakam, shown how this leech in human shape contrives to impoverish the toiling villagers. When the villager’s dwelling is to be repaired, to the usurer he must go. If he has to buy a pair of bullocks, he must have recourse to the money-lender. If marriages and other cere- monies are to be performed, the usurer is ever ready to lend him money; and above all, the instalments of Government revenue to be paid before all his crops can be secured and realized, are gladly advanced by the money-lender. The villager can do nothing but borrow at exorbi- tant rates. Thus, in India, we see the strange anomaly of the money-lender furnishing the cultivator with farming capital. The result is that the poor villager is simply paid for his labour, while the lender takes all the profits, “although he has no proprietary interest in the land.” The plant and stock in any concern in which an English capitalist engages belongs to himself, but in India the villager who owns the land is simply in the position of an English labourer, who has no such ownership. And in India we find the still further anomaly of capital without proprietary interest securing a higher rate of interest than that obtainable in England. Here we find the few flourishing while the many suffer. The only remedy is, as I have already pointed out, to institute agricultural banks in every district, and advance money to the cultivators at moderate interest.
Another successful class of people has also sprung up in India. There are to be found in villages nowadays people with a smattering of law leading on innocent people to unnecessary and costly litigation. Every village has its local lawyer, and we have seen how in Kélam- bakam, Appalacharri successfully managed to bring about a quarrel between the potter and the panisiva, how the dispute lingered on for a year and more, how Appalacharri himself played the chief part therein, and how during all that period he successfully fleeced both the parties. The time has now come for steps to be taken to put down this class of men, who are dreaded by the villagers and whose favour is gladly courted by them. A revival of the old system of settling disputes by village panchayets would be a step in the right direc- tion.
For the present I take leave of my readers. For years I have freely mingled with the simple villagers, and it is because I feel strongly that they are a people deserving of sympathy that I have ventured to put together these hurried sketches, in the hope that they may lead people to take an interest in their welfare.