which were performed in the field close to the house. The advent of the players was always the signal for my father's youngest brother to nail down the shutters on that side of the house if he thought the acting of the jatras not quite proper for the ladies to hear.
One of our customs is for young girls to make vows as they worship before symbolic figures made of flour, or painted on the ground. "May I have a good husband," prays one. "May I be rich," sighs her worldly-minded sister. Marriage and wealth are as important in the East as in Mayfair. My vows, ordered by my father, were planned on different lines, and usually excited pity or amusement. I promised to give money to the poor, never to tell a lie, to feed animals and birds, and to give people cool beverages during the hot weather.
Oh happy days: I can still smell the incense which burnt before the idol at twilight when the elder ladies made their devotions. From across the gulf of time I can hear the faint tinkle of the bells, and the peace of the past pervades my soul. It was a heavenly feeling when Arati (evening prayer) time came and the elderly ladies, among whom the most prominent figure was that of my dear old grand-mother, bowed themselves in homage to their god in the sanctuary. The conch shells and the bells sounded, the flowers and the incense gave out their delicious perfume, and family life seemed to me heavenly and pure.
