India and the Indians

The Story

The narrative begins with a metaphor for India’s modern condition: the process of waking up. Like a schoolboy being roused for the morning’s duties—prayer, washing, and feeding the pony—the author suggests that India is currently in a state of transition. It is an awakening that is leisurely, idiosyncratic, and, from his perspective, in need of a guiding hand. The author, a missionary residing at Yerandawana, positions his account as a series of personal observations gathered over a long residence, intended to provide the necessary preparation for anyone seeking to work or empathize with the country. He frames his task as the "kindly" duty of ensuring that, as India fully wakes, she possesses the tools for sanitation, work, and spiritual direction.

The book moves through the practicalities of daily life, emphasizing the friction between traditional Indian practices and the encroaching influence of the West. He describes the construction of a village church, noting that the building’s unusual design—and the fact that passersby stopped to stare at it—was a significant cultural milestone, indicating that the Indian mind was finally registering new, unwonted impressions. He balances this with discussions on dress, noting that while the adoption of European attire by Indian Christians is often mocked, it is an inevitable tide in a country where clothing denotes religion or caste rather than nationality. He observes that even as these changes occur, traditional arts are being eroded by cheap, imported European tastes, creating a "painful incongruity" in local homes where gaudy advertisements are displayed as fine art.

As the text progresses, the author addresses the "experimental" nature of missionary work. He admits that there is no singular, successful method for conversion, and that results are largely dependent on the personality of the worker rather than any organized system. He critiques the early reliance on secular education as a precursor to spiritual conversion, noting that it often led to a preoccupation with material success that crowded out religious inquiry. Instead, he advocates for a visual, narrative approach, using specific religious imagery—such as the pictures of the life of Christ—to engage the Indian mind, which he finds more responsive to sober, deliberate storytelling than to grand, abstract cartoons.

The latter portion of the book focuses on the mundane and the challenging realities of life on the ground. The author details the intricacies of household management, the persistent struggle with insect pests, and the frustrations of maintaining infrastructure in a climate that fluctuates between blistering heat and freezing nights. He highlights the pervasive nature of bribery, or "palm oil," and the difficulty of finding honest labor in a system where work is viewed with a low ideal and constant supervision is required. He also touches on the social rigidity of the caste system, which remains the primary barrier to progress, preventing even those who wish to step outside their traditional roles from doing so.

The account concludes with a reflection on the resilience of cultural identity. Even those who convert to Christianity often struggle to fully shed their Hindu habits, as evidenced by the story of a carpenter-convert whose life remained deeply marked by his past, despite his devotion to his new faith. The author finishes not with a sense of triumph, but with a grounded acknowledgement of the slow, uneven pace of change. He leaves the reader with the impression that India is a place that will never be "Westernized" in the way the colonizers might expect, but will instead continue to evolve in a uniquely Indian way, resisting complete transformation and maintaining its own internal logic.

The People

• The Author (Edward F. Elwin): A missionary who views himself as a mentor to the Indian people. He seeks to guide India toward modernization and Christianity, yet he remains deeply attached to the individuals he describes, often tempering his criticisms with a sincere, if paternalistic, affection.
• Felix: The archetype of the "waking" Indian student. He represents the need for constant, repetitive instruction. He is the personification of the author's argument that, without external guidance, the potential of the Indian mind remains dormant or undirected.
• Bhumya Virappa Chondikar: A carpenter-master and convert to Christianity. He represents the persistence of tradition. Despite his sincere devotion to the Church, his inability to fully break with his Hindu identity—exemplified by his retention of the pigtail—serves as a cautionary case study on the limits of conversion.
• The Mother-in-Law: A representative of the domestic order. She is portrayed not as the villainous figure often found in literature, but as a pragmatic, devoted woman, managing the household and the education of her daughter-in-law with an earnest focus on domestic excellence.
• The Patel: The village headman who, when faced with local unrest, chooses to flee to the city. He serves as an example of the failure of traditional leadership structures to cope with the pressures and demands of changing times.

In Its Own Voice

When describing the inherent difference in how Indians and Europeans approach the concept of "waking up" to modernity, the author notes:

For some years past it has been one of my daily duties to arouse an Indian boy, and I know exactly how an Indian wakes.

Regarding the aesthetic confusion that arises when Western objects are introduced into Indian spaces without proper context or training, he writes:

Pictures from England, interspersed with mirrors, form the chief decoration on the walls of many of these saloons.

He offers a poignant, if frustrated, reflection on the difficulty of changing ingrained cultural attitudes toward property and care in a mission environment:

Indians have yet to learn to treat books with the respect which is instinctive amongst people of refinement in most European countries.

What It's Really About

The book is an extended meditation on the friction between two disparate worldviews. At its core, it is an argument about the limitations of cultural influence. The author, while committed to the civilizing and evangelizing project of the British Empire, is remarkably honest about the resistance this project meets. He is essentially asking: How does a culture, deeply rooted in tradition and caste, absorb change without losing its fundamental character?

The text rejects the notion of a simple, linear transition to modernity. Instead, it posits that India remains a "leisurely" society, one that views Western concepts of efficiency, sanitation, and even art with a skeptical or indifferent eye. The author is preoccupied with the idea of "responsibility"—the moral burden he believes the English have toward their subjects—but he frequently concedes that this responsibility is often met with misunderstanding or complete failure.

There is a recurring tension between the author’s desire for "wholesome" progress and his observation that the "tide" of foreign customs cannot be stayed or controlled. He is deeply interested in the physical environment as a shaper of character; the heat, the insects, the monsoon, and the grinding of grain are not mere background details, but forces that dictate the rhythm of life and the nature of the people. The book implicitly questions whether the "Western" way of life is truly compatible with the Indian climate and social structure, often noting that attempts to force this compatibility—such as building houses with ventilators that make them too cold, or introducing English clothes—are frequently rejected by the very people they are meant to benefit.

Finally, the work is about the failure of categories. The author struggles to reconcile the "heathen" identity with the "Christian" identity, finding that for many, the two are not mutually exclusive but exist in a complicated, layered state. This makes the book less of a triumphant missionary report and more of a candid, if dated, ethnographic record of a man who realizes that the "conversion" of a country is a far more slow, messy, and unpredictable process than he had once believed. He frames this not as a tragedy, but as a reality that requires patience, "sympathy," and a constant, vigilant presence.

Why Read It Today

Readers who appreciate detailed, observational prose will find much to admire in these pages. The author has a keen eye for the texture of daily life—the smell of attar of roses in a garland, the sound of bees in a room, and the way a bullock-cart driver navigates the roads. It is a slow, methodical read that asks you to sit with the author in the verandah of a mission bungalow, watching the world go by.

However, modern readers will undoubtedly encounter significant challenges. The author writes from a position of unquestioned imperial authority; his tone, while warm and well-intentioned, is undeniably paternalistic. His descriptions of Indian people as "children" who need to be told how to pray or wash are artifacts of a specific colonial mindset that will strike a contemporary audience as condescending. Furthermore, the book’s structure is anecdotal and disjointed, functioning more as a collection of "discursive notes" than a cohesive argument. It does not possess a narrative urgency; it unfolds at the same "leisurely" pace the author attributes to his students.

Despite these period attitudes, the book remains a fascinating primary document. It does not attempt to gloss over the difficulties of the mission or the frustration of the missionary. You are reading a man who is actively trying to reconcile his expectations with the reality of an India that refuses to conform to his plans. It stays with you because of its honesty about failure: the abandoned wells, the "white elephant" bungalows, and the converts who never quite leave their old lives behind. It captures a moment where the British were firmly in charge, yet perpetually bewildered, and the Indian people were navigating the presence of the British with a quiet, persistent, and often humorous resilience. It is an honest look at the limitations of influence, and for that reason, it provides a unique window into the human reality behind the grand history of the British Raj.