Following the Equator: A Journey Around the World. Part 5

In Short

This travelogue chronicles a late-life lecture tour through India, capturing the sensory overload of a continent defined by its extremes. Moving from the opulent courts of maharajahs to the horrors of the bubonic plague, the account blends sharp social satire with historical reflection. It has endured not merely as a record of a vanished colonial era, but as an intimate portrait of a mind wrestling with the contradictions of imperialism, religion, and the "white man’s" uneasy place in a land that feels both ancient and alien.

The Story

The journey begins with the traveler’s arrival in India, a place long mythologized in his boyhood dreams. He is immediately struck by the country’s devotion to names, titles, and lineage—a landscape that runs "richly to name." His narrative is punctuated by the practical realities of travel, such as the necessity of carrying one’s own bedding, a quirk of history that persists even in a modernizing world. He navigates the complexities of hiring local help, contrasting the slow, forgetful incompetence of an elderly servant with the lightning-fast efficiency of a young successor, whom he ironically nicknames "Satan."

As he travels deeper into the heart of the subcontinent, the tone shifts from lighthearted observation to a darker meditation on human cruelty and faith. He explores the history of the Thuggee, the secret, hereditary brotherhood of assassins who once terrorized travelers. He is fascinated by their cold-blooded professionalism and the sheer audacity of their secret network, which functioned for centuries under the nose of the British. He contrasts this violent history with the serene, haunting rituals of the Parsee "Towers of Silence," where the sacred nature of the elements forbids both burial and cremation, leaving the dead to be disposed of in a manner that offends the sensibilities of the colonial observer.

The narrative reaches a chilling peak when he witnesses the spread of the bubonic plague in Bombay. The city transforms from a bustling metropolis into a landscape of "stalking horror," where the silence of deserted streets is broken only by the mournful tramping of funerals. He reflects on the "Black Death" as a uniquely terrifying equalizer, one that forces a mass exodus of the population and leaves the remaining residents in a state of paralyzed, existential dread.

The final segments of the journey take him to Benares, the "sacredest of sacred cities." Here, religion is the only industry that matters, and the air is thick with the intensity of millions of pilgrims who find in the Ganges and the stone temples a spiritual home that transcends the dusty, sweltering reality of their lives. He observes the "lingam" worship—a tradition so ancient it feels as if it were a part of "original Creation"—and finds a strange, begrudging respect for the depth of faith that compels a weary, dying pilgrim to crawl across the city line just to touch the holy ground. He ends his journey not with an easy resolution, but with a lingering sense of India as a "Land of Contradictions," where the trivial—like the irritation of scratchy, poorly designed pajamas—constantly collides with the profound weight of history and mortality.

How It Unfolds

The arrival in the East The traveler recounts his initial impressions, comparing the reality of India to his childhood fantasies of princely titles and oriental splendor. He introduces the logistical challenges of travel, including the bizarre necessity of carrying bedding as a survival requirement in a land of railway journeys and dak-bungalows.

The servant and the system He shares a humorous yet telling anecdote about discharging a slow, inefficient servant in favor of a brisk, energetic young man he names "Satan." This interaction serves as a bridge into his reflections on the colonial bureaucracy and the rigid, often incomprehensible hierarchies of the Indian station.

The shadow of the Thugs The narrative turns to the history of the Thuggee, detailing their secret language, their religious devotion to the goddess Bhowanee, and their uncanny ability to evade detection for generations. He uses these historical accounts to illustrate the "highwayman instinct" that thrived in a fractured, multi-state landscape.

The plague descends A sudden shift occurs as the traveler encounters the reality of a modern-day plague, documenting the panic and the "nightmare of dread" that empties a city. He uses this tragedy to contrast the fragility of life with the rigid, detached nature of colonial administration.

The sanctity of Benares The journey concludes in the holy city, where he observes the overwhelming, singular focus on religious devotion. He describes the pilgrims' fervor, the omnipresence of ancient symbols, and the way the city stands as a boundary between the mundane world and the divine.

The People

The traveler acts as our guide, a man whose "long-ago dreams" are constantly being tested by the gritty reality of the road. He is a critic of his own comfort, often mocking his own sensitivity to heat, cold, and bad service, yet he is also a sharp-eyed witness to the suffering of others. Beside him in his adventures is the elusive "Satan," the young, efficient, and fiercely energetic servant who stands in stark contrast to his predecessor, Manuel. Satan represents the hidden, vital, and occasionally frightening energy of the local culture, always ready to "fly around" on velvet feet to satisfy the traveler’s needs.

The figures of the Indian Princes, such as the Gaikwar of Baroda, inhabit the background of the narrative, serving as symbols of a romanticized, unstable past where a peasant boy could be snatched from his mud pies to occupy a throne. Finally, there are the "official" figures—the British officers and the colonial administrators—who are often depicted as stiff, baffled, or oblivious to the "Asiatic" realities unfolding around them. These figures represent the reach and the limitations of imperial power, appearing as "grand and fine" in their private carriages, yet ultimately out of touch with the deep, spiritual currents of the land they claim to govern.

In Its Own Voice

"You soon find your long-ago dreams of India rising in a sort of vague and luscious moonlight above the horizon-rim of your opaque consciousness, and softly lighting up a thousand forgotten details which were parts of a vision that had once been vivid to you when you were a boy, and steeped your spirit in tales of the East."

The author reflects on the persistent, romanticized power of India before setting foot in the country.

"The plague carries with it a terror which no other disease can excite; for of all diseases known to men it is the deadliest--by far the deadliest."

The author describes the visceral, paralyzing fear that grips the city of Bombay as the epidemic spreads.

"It is the Land of Contradictions, the Land of Subtlety and Superstition, the Land of Wealth and Poverty, the Land of Splendor and Desolation, the Land of Plague and Famine, the Land of the Thug and the Poisoner, and of the Meek and the Patient."

The author attempts to synthesize his overwhelming experiences into a single, complex definition of India.

What It's Really About

At its heart, this is a book about the clash between the traveler’s expectations and the uncompromising, often brutal reality of a foreign land. It interrogates the nature of "civilization," contrasting the supposed progress of the British Empire with the ancient, enduring, and sometimes horrific traditions—like Thuggee or the treatment of widows—that continue to exist alongside it. The text asks whether any observer can truly grasp a place as vast as India, or if they are merely projecting their own biases and "boyhood dreams" onto a canvas of contradictions. It is a meditation on the permanence of human suffering and the ephemeral nature of the systems we build to control it.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate dry, observational wit will find much to admire here. The writing is deeply atmospheric, moving effortlessly from the irritation of a bad night’s sleep to the somber contemplation of a plague-stricken city. It captures the "delight" and "charm" of the Indian landscape with a vividness that remains striking over a century later.

However, the modern reader should be prepared for the realities of the era. The book reflects the period attitudes of its author, including a colonial worldview that can feel jarring and occasionally patronizing to contemporary sensibilities. The style is discursive and sprawling—some may find the length and the frequent detours into historical reports, such as the dry lists of crimes and Thuggee confessions, to be a test of patience. Yet, if you value a voice that is both profoundly skeptical and unexpectedly tender, you will find this a rewarding, if challenging, companion. It stays with you not because it provides a tidy map of the world, but because it captures the feeling of a mind being constantly surprised, challenged, and ultimately humbled by the "multitudinous" nature of human existence. It is a quintessential travelogue for those who seek to understand the traveler as much as the destination.