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A FEW THINGS I REMEMBER OF
MY TIME IN INDIA
ELIZABETH BIRCH (FORMERLY HODGES, LATE
PUNCHARD)
In 1922 India was under British Rule when I travelled
there from England with my baby son
Albert James PUNCHARD to
join my husband Edward James
PUNCHARD who was a Farrier Sergeant in the
Brtitish army. I left Southampton during the latter part of
a really very, very hot summer in England with a water
shortage and I thought it could not be much hotter anywhere
else. However I soon found out my mistake after being in
India a short time.
We had a very interesting voyage out just stopping at two
ports, Malta and Aden where the boat was almost overrun by
Arabs selling beads, trinkets and fruit. Then we travelled
on through the Arabian Sea until we reached Bombay - India
at last. We disembarked the next morning and I have often
asked myself what I expected India to be like? Certainly not
what I saw. Bombay seemed quite a fine city. The main
streets were very wide with trees growing each side like our
own avenues, and there were large hotels, houses and shops.
I saw native women walking along with large baskets of fruit
on their heads and one especially caught my eye for she saw
an object on the ground, what it was I could not see, but
without bending her back a little bit she reached out her
foot and picked the object up with her toes and then raised
it and took with her hand what she had picked up. I was to
see many women do the same thing whilst I was out there.
I noticed the only transport there was a sort of carriage
called a Garry. It held two people at the back and just the
driver in front. There was also a hood to put up over the
passengers when it rained. These garries were very
comfortable to ride in and we did all our sight seeing in
Bombay in one of these.
The next day we started on our journey from Victoria
Station in Bombay to Meerut staying a short while at Agra
and Delhi but as it was quite dark by the time we reached
Delhi we saw nothing of the place only the natives running
to each carriage trying to sell their sweets which were be
made in the shape of animals and houses and all sorts of
things. Two Sikhs came into our carriage at Delhi (as our
stop came almost the next station we were no longer in a
reserved carriage) and took the top berths where they got
themselves ready for bed by taking off their turbans,
combing out their long hair and then began to say their
prayers which they were still doing when we left the train
at Meerut. I could not help thinking that if we said more
prayers and were as devoted as they were we should be better
Christians and not so often in doubt.
We stepped out into a very bright moonlit night, so
bright one could have read a book. We hired a tonga, which
is a sort cart in which two sit at the front and two at the
back with only a piece of wood to keep the back passengers
from falling out.
Our quarters were large with high pitched rooms lit by
electric light. Fans kept the rooms cool and we had a lovely
garden of flowers - I never saw such vivid colours and the
man who attended to them brought me a lovely bunch of them
and I bought them for 3 Annas not knowing they came from my
own garden. One grew to be very careful of the wiles of some
of the natives.
Meerut is a lovely little place with beautiful wide
avenues, nice shops and the one place of most interest was
the Church. It was a grand building and the Rector was a
fine man. We used to attend services there for I never found
a Wesleyan Chapel as they were called then. The Church still
showed signs of the Indian Mutiny. The outside was
pock-marked with bullet holes which the Rector was very
proud to show us.
It was rather hot during the day but very cold during the
night and we were glad to have a big fire in the evening.
All the cooking was done on charcoal fires by an Indian cook
and it was really wonderful how very good it all was. The
man was a high caste Hindu which was a good thing really as,
because there were so many things he was not supposed to
touch with his hands he kept a bowl of water and a cloth
near him and was continually washing his hands.
One evening we saw some women coming along chanting some
tune and carrying little chatties. They went up to a tomb
which lay not many yards from our quarters where they each
put something into a bigger chattie on the tomb. When we
asked the bearer what it was all about he said it was food
for the soul of the dead man for he was a great man. But we
said it was not true the birds ate the grain but he said ,
"But Mem Sahib, his soul is a bird," and no amount of
talking would make him change his mind. The natives are very
strong in their beliefs. One sees what a hard task a
missionary has to try to make them see differently.
We would have liked to stay longer in Meerut - it was
such a lovely place, but one day we were sent for and told
we must get ready straight away to go up to a place called
Dera Ismail Khan where a farrier sergeant had died suddenly
and my husband was to take his place. We were only to be
there a few weeks and then we were all to go to Jubbulpore.
There was very little to notice on that 3 day journey. We
reached Dera Khan station at 1 o'clock in the morning and
spent the rest of the night in large armchairs. We woke in
the morning to a terrible noise and smell and when we looked
out saw quite a herd of camels being loaded with supplies to
be taken 15 miles across the desert to the place we were
going to, Dera Ismail Khan. It was very interesting watching
the camels as they lowered themselves by bending their front
knees and waiting patiently until they were loaded and then
in such a slow majestic style they each rose up ready to
start their journey across the desert. I don't know how long
they took, we left at 11 o'clock and we never passed them on
our way.
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The road we travelled on was made with sticks
and branches laid on sand and it was certainly an
experience I am not eager to ever try again. There
seemed miles of it and such bumps as one never
thought possible. I held my little son who was a
year old as tight as possible to save him being
shaken too much. We passed herds of camels, large
and small being driven along as you would sheep. We
also saw some lovely large cactus - it made me
think of the desert blossoming like a rose - they
looked so green it seemed impossible that they
could live and grow so big with almost no water. We
also went over bridges made from boats which was
not very comfortable either. What they were for I
didn't know - there was no water in the dykes, but
of course there is a reason for everything.
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We spent five weeks at Dera Ismail Khan living in a Fort
which was like a little village inside and except for
anything very big there was no reason to go outside. The
kitchens were made of mud with a mud stove on which our
native cook always managed to cook some good meals. The
natives there were Pathans and seemed very tall compared
with the Hindus. We spent Christmas there and we had a
little carol service and at the close the Natives brought
flower garlands for us to wear. After lunch we went for a
litle walk but the sand got into our shoes so that we were
glad to get home again. The evening we spent around the fire
eating nuts and oranges etc sent from the canteen to every
family.
Then the day came for us all to leave our sandy village
and prepare for our journey to Jubbulpore crossing the
desert once again to Dera Khan station where a special
carriage was waiting for us. It took four days to get there
and as we travelled along we stopped at quite a number of
small stations and in the evening watched the people get out
of their carriages which at that time were not much more
than trucks and were as crowded as they could possibly be.
One wonders they did not all fall out when the train
stopped. I saw women with huge bundles on their heads and
most of them with a small baby tied on their backs and often
a child hanging on to their Saris whilst the men walked
along carrying nothing. I hope and pray that the women's lot
may be easier now, it was heart breaking to see them working
in the fields with their babies strapped to their backs.
I saw more at Jubbulpore than anywhere else. We used to
go to the market early in the morning before the sun got too
hot and buy all we needed there. The shopkeeper would be
sitting on the ground with all his goods around him -
fruits, vegetables, meat (such as it was) and lovely
materials, silks, muslin and voile and beautiful lace. The
vendor would ask "What Mem Sahib want?" then the bargaining
would begin. It is often difficult for newcomers to the
country to enter into the spirit of bargaining.
It became very hot and we were beginning to feel it very
much also the creeping things began to show themselves - the
tarantula spider, the scorpion, chameleons, twig insects and
tree rats who would nip in the house and eat cakes or
anything they could see. But there was one great joy, we
discovered the little Methodist, or rather, Wesleyan Church.
The minister was the Rev. Tom Sheriff and we used to attend
evening service there as much as possible. The one thing I
remember most was the Sunday School Anniversary when the
children sang their special hymns and said their
recitations. It took my thoughts back to home and childhood
days and I little thought I should be going home so
soon.
There was so much to see - the grand processions when we
saw the Rajah on his elephant all dressed up in gay coloured
robes sparkling with shining jewels sitting on a purple rug
with all his retinue coming along behind him. It was a
wonderful sight, what money must have been spent on it all.
Then we saw the poorer people having their dances and, it
seemed, nearly going mad, shouting themselves hoarse so that
the Ayahs could hardly speak next day and all were much too
tired to work.
I could write so many things but time has dimmed my
memory a great deal. Our Bearer was a wonderful man who
could speak English very well and I remember once talking to
him about our God and he said, "Mem-Sahib, my God says I
must not steal, I must not lie or kill and I must always
help everyone I can and yours does the same - so what is the
difference, Mem-Sahib?" and I could not find anything more
to argue about.
My husband's death brought my stay in India to an end
except for a further five weeks when I had a room at the
home of the Major and his wife where the monkeys came to
visit us and stole all the mangoes.
During my last few weeks in India the Rev. Sheriff was a
great help to me and through him I saw God's hand in
everything and realised that God was just as close to me in
India as he was at home in England. God never leaves you
alone and He brought me home Safely to England and happiness
once more.
P.S. I wish I had thought to ask my Mother in what
vehicle they crossed the desert. KRH.
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Those
standing from left to right : unknown man with cap, unknown
woman in flowerpot hat, Robert
Edward BIRCH, unknown,
Nance BIRCH, unknown
woman, Richard Verrier
BIRCH, unknown woman,
Cecily HENNEKER ( who
was bridesmaid) unknown woman with visible hatpin,
Richard Henry BIRCH,
Robert COCHRANE, unknown
woman, Eliza HENNEKER,
Alice HODGES (nee
AMOS),
James HODGES.