1.02.09. Book 2: Ch 9. The Minor Operation

CHAPTER IX THE Brownie soon showed of what stuff she was made. She had, when she came to us, long trailing ears, the idea of her caste and various others of this South land being that the more the jewels hung in such an ear lie along the shoulder, the more admir­able it is. But none of our girls had such ears. For this doubtless they are grievously commiserated by all but the more educated, Still the Brownie, being nothing if not thorough, wanted her ears short, and this meant a cutting, called by the nearest Govern­ment dispenser a minor operation.

It might have been major, however, in the Brownie’s imagination, nor should I greatly enjoy to lie down on the operating table in that grubby little surgery, and feel a pair of scissors snipping about my ears. This particular man not only cut, he did what he called trimmings; these were literal trimmings, and conducted with exactly as much deliberation as if he had been dealing with tuckers. Then when one was done there was the other. And this was the least of considerations. The real crux lay in the fact that, should a court case follow, the fact that a portion of flesh belonging to the caste had been deducted from the debated goods would not by any means ease the situation. Such matters expressed in legal language can be made to sound quite serious. We knew that; but the Brownie was fixed in her determination to get rid of her horrid heathenish ears, and it was done accordingly.

"And much to be approved," remarked the operator, clipping carefully, "such being remnants of barbaric age of remarkable ignorance," for he and his were of short-eared customs. And he dis­coursed on education, and the benefits thereof, much in the spirit of those two frank souls, who, in an essay on Friendship for the matriculation examination not long ago, wrote feelingly, "We must always have friends; they might become Stationmasters, and give us free passes, or even become Judges, which they can help us more if accused." And again, "He stuck to his kiths and kins and gave them all best posts." Not one word in fifty did the Brownie understand even when he descended to Tamil; but then her ears were fully occupied with their own affair: and did not listen much. This was a pity, for his flow was wonderful. And as always when under this sort of waterspout I wondered however he did it, till I remembered his literature. That explained it. We do not often dip into these wells, but quite lately we did. It was by mistake. An advertisement gloriously worded offered a book promising rather rare historical information; and we bought it.

We did not proceed far. Garbage is not attrac­tive food. But a sentence or two remain with us, have become indeed household words. The pleased human face, for example: "Each undulation of the face while smiling was shedding sweet lustre like moonbeams all round"; or an absent-minded person: "Lost in a dream as it were which en­veloped her as with a halo"; or a troubled spirit: "A flood of tears came gushing into his both eyes which he with the utmost effort could ill afford to keep under control"; "Her corrugated eyebrows quivering lips and convulsing bosom evinced the most ineffable anguish"; and, most lovely and lucid of all, this on fear: "The very blood running into her veins seemed to have divided itself to shallow her up into its chosen." But such were endless, every page sparkled with them: "A dreamland of felicity beaming with the effulgence of the vernal bright moon floating in the ocean of liquid gold before their fancied vision. To picture in fancy its splendour would indeed be soaring on elysian reverie far beyond the conception of human conception. The fragrant candles burning with it emitted beautiful sweet scented odour and light of uncommon effulgence converting the hall into the pleasure hall of the gods. All the while sweetest music was pouring ambrosia into the ears of those present there." And these pleasant things happened "where all the beauties and rareties of the world conglomerated." When we retired from the pages of that book; there was, as it remarked about somebody else, "no other alternative than to run away laughing in our sleeve."

They that feed upon them are like unto them; but is it not instructive to see what beauties and rareties can be "conglomerated" with our plain English tongue? One cannot help wondering what will become of it when the new Indian policy takes effect on the schools and colleges of the land. Perhaps the soul of it will join company with those souls of which that bright book writes, "they took eternal rest under the cover of the earth." But the medical’s talk, though interesting, was unnecessary, and I tried to get him off his conversa­tion exclusively on to his work; in vain: it was too good an opportunity to miss, and to do him justice I must say he worked well too. The ears were quite a success. I thought the Brownie might be faint afterwards, and had some sal volatile ready. Not she. She screwed her face into a bunch and never moved even under the trimmings. The minor operation over, she slipped off the table, said salaam to the operator, and smiled to me. Never was such an imperturbable Brownie. The first thing thereafter was to learn to read. After a month or two of struggle I found the poor Brownie in tears on her knees. She was explaining to her Father in heaven, Who was, she was sure, interested in the matter, that all these years she had been kept, and now she had been brought and "joined" and all was well, only she could not learn to read. Would not He Who had done such great things for her do this last little thing?

It was done. The Brownie learned to read. But the story shows her exactly, for she was not endowed with "mystigating intellect," another of our new words, she was in fact stupid. The first time she travelled by train she could not be persuaded to hurry and was nearly left behind. "I thought it would wait for me," she said, calculating as half India does the speed of all vehicles by the habits of the familiar bullock-cart. But though not clever she was very strong and very simple in her faith, and worth so much to the Father of us all, that there was nothing He would not have done to help her. For there is power in the Name. She had called upon the name of the Lord, "0 Lord, I beseech Thee deliver my soul." She had loved what she knew of the One with the Name that is above every name. Whisper that name in the ear of the Father, ever so faintly, ever so ignorantly, and instantly all the angelic forces of heaven are at your service; and energies are set in motion on your behalf, beside which the torrent of our river when a tremendous rainstorm floods the watershed, and great, mad, leaping, racing, living white thunders down the ravine, is as the trickle of a dew drop down a daisy stem. And now for this trifle He was at hand again, for there is nothing in all creation too small for Him to note. The relatives heard about the minor operation, but they did not file a suit, which was an unspeakable relief, for fights in the courts-or anywhere else for that matter-are anything but joys. There is such a thing as the joy of battle; I know it: it is a very solemn joy. But for the most part battles are full of the most prosaic weariness, toil, discouragement and fear. The glamour and the poetry, and the glory of them-who knows anything of these things at the time? It is just grim hand to throat fight.

Last night we overheard a forest fight. Crash, crash went what sounded like dry branches cracking one against the other, sometimes the trampling and crashing sounded far down the ravine, then it would come nearer, till the noise seemed to be plunging about in the river-bed by our pool; every stamp, every crack echoed through the house.

There was a little moon, but the forest lay in black darkness, and except for the racket which was doubled as all sounds here are by the precipitous rocks, it was quiet as a church. We sat up in the dark for twenty minutes or so and listened, not lighting a lamp because we half hoped to see the big forms of the two sambur emerge from the forest fringe at our doors. Gradually the noise died away, and we wondered how much of their beautiful antlers remained to either of them.

We have learned in Dohnavur to thank God for peaceful, commonplace days and quiet nights, though we do ask to be kept from that sloth of spirit which would shrink back from battle; and for everyone who offers to us I copy these words from Garibaldi to his soldiers:

"Come. . . I promise you weariness, hardship, and battles. But we will conquer or die." And these too from Pere Didon:

"I do not want people who come to me under certain reservations. In battle you need soldiers who fear nothing. . . ." And again:

"This sacred work demands not lukewarm, selfish, slack souls, but hearts more finely tempered than steel, wills purer and harder than the diamond."

Cleaning Up O holy Lord of all hallowing, keep undefiled for ever This house that hath been lately cleansed. - 2Ma 14:36 .