In addition to this, the men
carry bamboo spears with iron points as a slipshod measure of defence
against possible attacks from wild animals. When viewed from a
respectable distance these articles invest the ultra-gentle Bengali with
a suggestion of being on the war-path, a delusion that is really absurd
in connection with the meek Bengali ryot.
The houses of the villages are now heavily thatched, and mostly enclosed
with high bamboo fencing, prettily trailed with creepers; the bazaars are
merely two rows of shed-like stalls between which runs the road. In lieu
of the frequent painted idol, these jungle villagers bestow their
devotional exercises upon rude and primitive representations of
impossible men and animals made of twisted straw. These are sometimes set
up in the open air on big horseshoe-shaped frames, and sometimes they are
beneath a shed. In the privacy of their own dwellings the Bengali ryot
bows the knee and solemnly worships a bowl of rice or a cup of arrack.
The bland and childlike native of Hindostan falls down and worships
almost everything that he recognizes as being essential to his happiness
and welfare, embracing a wide range of subjects, from Brahma, who created
all things, to the denkhi with which their women hull the rice.
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