The Outcaste Read online

  CHAPTER II

  The run to London by the express was to occupy an hour. As Wenastonand his companions entered the station the train stood ready by theplatform. There was a rush for the carriages, and before they couldmake their way to a first-class smoker, every seat was occupied. Anumber of people were in the same case as themselves, being unable tofind places. He stopped an official and asked when the next trainwould start.

  "A duplicate will be put on as soon as this has been sent off. Therewill be plenty of room in that, sir."

  A quarter of an hour later they were comfortably seated in acompartment which they had to themselves. The train ran smoothly andconversation was possible. The Englishman alone smoked. To thehigh-caste Hindu the replacing of the cigar in the mouth after it hastouched the tongue and lips is an offence against caste. The men hadno objection, however, to the smoke made by another.

  "I suppose there was no doubt about the man being dead?" said Ananda,as they again discussed the event of the day.

  "None whatever," replied Bopaul. "I heard it announced by a member ofthe committee, who gave it out as a reason for stopping all furtheraviation. The competitions were over, and the programme completed.The man was only marking time, so to speak, just to keep the peopleamused."

  "He offered to do it, I heard," remarked Ananda.

  "With the wind increasing he ought not to have been allowed to takesuch a risk," said Wenaston. "It is waste of life to hurl a man intoeternity for such a trivial reason."

  "Hurl a man into eternity," repeated Ananda slowly, his dreamy eyesfixed upon the speaker.

  "Oh, well; that's just a way of talking. I meant the life afterdeath," replied Wenaston, slightly taken aback.

  "The life? You don't mean re-incarnation; trans-migration is not oneof your doctrines of belief. You mean life elsewhere?"

  "Yes, in the future--in another world."

  "Do you really believe that you will have a personality--that you canretain the _ego_ that is in you now--when you enter any other world butthis?"

  "I hope so. We are taught by our religion that something of the sortis to take place. What is your belief?" asked Wenaston, turning theconversation on to Hinduism. Before Ananda could reply, Coomara,assertive in the stronghold of his steadfast faith, spoke.

  "We believe that after a long succession of rebirths on this earth weshall be absorbed in the Deity."

  Wenaston did not reply, and Coomara explained thinking that theEnglishman had not understood.

  "--the great impersonal Brahma, the origin of all things, the Spiritthat your Bible says brooded on the face of the waters when the worldwas without form."

  "You can't expect any positive happiness in such a state," objectedWenaston.

  "Why not?"

  "How can you hope for positive happiness if you are impersonal yourselfand forming part of an impersonal Deity?"

  "There is no reason why we should not enjoy a state or condition ofhappiness if the Deity so willed it."

  Wenaston avoided the exceedingly difficult question of impersonalityand exercise of the Divine will; and turned the conversation to asubject that was directly and humanly personal.

  "Then if you were killed suddenly like that aviator, you would die inthe comfortable assurance that you would join your God and become partof Him."

  Somewhat to his surprise there was no reply. He glanced round at hiscompanions under the impression that they had tired of the topic, andwere no longer interested. The expression of their faces did notconfirm this idea. Coomara's eyes were averted, but Ananda's werefixed upon the speaker; and in their depths lurked a shadow of fearthat Wenaston could not fathom. He turned to the half-closed window.The wind had increased and the threatened storm of rain had begun. Itwas coming down in driving sheets that beat against the glass andobliterated the landscape.

  "We are going to have a stormy night; this is not a shower," heremarked, as he drew up the window and closed it completely.

  It was Bopaul who broke the silence. The seriousness of the subjecthad no effect on him. On the contrary, Wenaston thought he detected anundercurrent of amusement in his tone.

  "Our future life depends on the circumstances surrounding death. Theattainment of everlasting happiness would by no means fall to our lot,I am afraid. It is more likely that we individually would be overtakenby punishment."

  "You have no hell to fear," replied Wenaston.

  "We need not fear the hell described by the teachers of your religion;but we have an equivalent. It lies in our transmigration doctrine.Rebirth on earth as some inferior creature is our hell; existence as ahorse, a dhoby-donkey, a rat, a loathsome pariah, a dog or a reptileaccording to the heinousness of our sins."

  Bopaul smiled grimly as he caught the expression on the faces ofCoomara and Ananda. The latter could not conceal his horror at thecontemplation of an existence in a lower birth, where pain andservitude, he believed, would crush out every joy of life. Hissensitive nature revolted against the thought of the indignities andsufferings such a birth must involve. Coomara's fatalism saved him insome degree from the dread that overwhelmed Ananda. If he weredestined to a succession of inferior births it would be impossible toavoid them. The inevitable must be faced. As well might a man try todraw the sun down from its place in the heavens and stop its course asto endeavour to upset the law of destiny.

  "It certainly sounds appalling," commented Wenaston.

  "Such a fate is as much dreaded by the orthodox Hindu as the fatebelieved by Christians to be the portion of malefactors after death,"said Bopaul, without hesitation.

  "Then you must take care never to offend your Deity," remarked Wenaston.

  "Our code of offence is different from yours. We have no decalogue. Imay commit murder, for instance, without offence, if I kill a pariah oran out-caste; but if the victim of my enmity happened to be a Brahman,the aspect of the deed would be utterly changed. The sin would beenormous. Nothing short of a cycle of inferior births could reinstateme and restore me to the position I occupy at the present time."

  "None of you are likely to kill a Brahman, I imagine," said Wenastonlightly, and with the design of dissipating a little of the solemnitythat seemed to have settled upon Coomara and Ananda.

  His well-meant efforts were unavailing. It was evident that so seriousa subject was not to be dismissed in a moment.

  "There are other ways of transgressing, which, if persisted in, bringdown upon us the curse of inferior rebirth," said Bopaul."Carelessness and neglect in the performance of our religious duties.Manu, the law-giver, himself defines sin in clear, unmistakeable terms.We can transgress by neglecting to read the Vedas; by falling away fromprescribed customs; by remissness in the performance of holy rites. Inaddition, offences may come through using a wrong diet and omittingceremonial ablutions and prayers. In short, our sins chiefly consistof the breaking of our caste rules by omission or commission."

  "Your code is simple enough if you have it all laid down by yourlaw-giver. All you have to do is to take care not to break yourrules," observed Wenaston, ignoring a fact that he was well aware of.

  The conversation had gone beyond the limits of light inconsequent talk;and he was watching for an opportunity to express his views courteouslyand without giving offence on caste and the absurdity of clinging to abelief in rigid ceremonial. By profession he was an educationalist.Without any intention of proselytising it came naturally to him tocombat beliefs that he considered to be obsolete and obstructive toprogress of thought. He had started the conversation simply to passthe time as they travelled. He continued it that he might tilt withoutoffence at that which he took to be the greatest obstacle to theadvancement of education among the Hindus. His words were not withouteffect. It was Bopaul who ventured to speak out and declare what wasin the mind of all three.

  "In our case we have broken the rules of caste, and broken them badly.The journey to England alone involves a rupture of a serious nature."

  Ananda wore a
n expression of anxiety that he did not attempt to hide.It was true. From the Hindu point of view he was living in sin. Hehad not only offended against the order of his caste in crossing thesea; but every day that was passed in the foreign country was acontinuance of sin. The sense of sin lay heavy on his conscience andat times weighed him down to the verge of nervous melancholy. Underits influence he had, soon after his arrival in England, written anurgent letter to his father praying that he might be permitted toreturn and perform those purificatory rites which would remove theburden of offence.

  There was no possibility of escape as long as he remained in a foreignland. The daily ablutions were but half performed; the daily worshipof the household gods was omitted altogether for want of the necessaryaccessories--the metal image, the rice, camphor, sugar and ghee. Inthe matter of diet there was dire offence in the preparation of hisfood; also in the method of partaking it. Contamination was in thevery shadow of the crowd that jostled him in his going and coming. Hisappeal to his father met with no response.

  Resigning himself to his fate he did his best to become reconciled tohis environment. Occasionally he regarded the English men and womenwho surrounded him with something like envy. They did not appear to beovershadowed by any gloomy apprehensions of the future. Did they covertheir fears and forebodings with a contentment that was assumed? A fewquestions put to the Professor disabused his mind of that suspicion.They were as happy as they appeared to be, he was told. Their creedreassured them and banished fear. Christ, their great teacher, hadgiven them definite promises in the Gospels that left them in nouncertainty. The way was easy for any one who chose to follow it, andno man could complain that he was driven against his will into a stateof sin and offence equivalent to that which troubled the exiled Hindu.Ananda, as he listened to the Professor, went so far as to envy theChristians their faith. He had no intention of becoming a Christian,but there was undoubtedly relief for them in their immunity from thehorrible dread of re-entering this world as a disgusting insect or amiserable beast of burden. With eyes fixed eagerly upon Wenaston helistened for his comment on the situation.

  "You are the victims of circumstances over which you have no control.Your parents sent you to England without consulting your wishes. Doyou really believe that their action has caused you to sin and deprivedyou of your hope of heaven?"

  "Not our hope of the future," corrected Bopaul. "When the offence iswiped out by propitiatory ceremonies we shall be restored to the favourof the gods."

  "What if you die before your return to India?"

  "Ah! then we die in sin, and the dreaded rebirth cannot be avoided; butwe hope to escape such a catastrophe and to return safely to ourcountry to perform the necessary expiatory ceremonies."

  "It is a monstrous belief!" cried Wenaston, moved in spite of himselfas he glanced at Ananda overshadowed by fear, and at Coomara on whosecountenance was written the hopeless resignation of the fatalist. "Itis incredible that a beneficent Deity can order a weary round ofinnumerable re-births in a lower instead of a higher existence, andcondemn men to undergo this penance for deeds in which there is no evilintention; deeds for which they themselves are not responsible. Evenif you are fortunate enough at the end of unthinkable cycles of earthlyexistence to reach the limit, you can hope for nothing better thanabsorption in an impersonal Spirit. To my mind such a fate is littleshort of annihilation."

  He looked at Coomara, who, with eyes averted and lips firmly closed,listened to these heretical suggestions unmoved. As Wenaston spoke,the Hindu moved his seat, slipping into the opposite corner near theother window. It was his method of showing that he did not wish totake any further part in the conversation. Bopaul was eager tocontinue it, and Ananda could not resist the fascination that heresyhad for his inquiring nature. None of them ventured to comment on theopinions just enunciated; and Wenaston continued.

  "The thought of the extinction of the ego in man is nothing less thanappalling. I know that there are certain men among our Westernstudents who have entertained the idea; they honestly try to persuadethemselves that they believe in the cessation of every kind of lifeafter death; but I cannot credit them with faith in such a theory. Tobegin with, extinction is not possible to the human understanding. Thescientist pronounces extinction to be unknown with matter. There ismutation, disintegration, but never extinction. We have every reasonto believe that the spiritual law follows on the same lines as the lawof material life, although the theory is not supported by any knownlaw. There is undoubtedly implanted in every soul the belief in ahereafter. Your faith leads you to expect rebirth in this world. Mineis immeasurably superior. It transcends all earthly----"

  His words were suddenly cut short. The carriage rocked on its wheelsand lurched on one side, throwing its occupants forward with greatviolence. A moment later a steel monster crashed through thepanelling, rending the cushions and splintering the wood.

  On it came with horrible celerity, catching Coomara in the corner wherehe had just settled himself. Before he could struggle out of itsreach, it pinned him down with its full weight.

  A cry that was stifled into a groan escaped his lips as the horriblebuffer crushed the life out of his fragile body; Coomara the orthodoxwent to meet his fate, whatever it might be; the relentless cycle ofinferior rebirths or the peace that passeth all understanding promisedby a loving and merciful God.