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IN the bad old days of the Raj the annual summer exodus to the hills must have resembled Napoleon’s Grand Army on the march except that camels were used as beasts of burden instead of horse-drawn wagons, or pack mules. For a family consisting of the sahib, memsahib, three or four children and an English nanny, a team of eleven camels was considered ‘just right’. Each animal was labelled with a number and the itemised contents of its load. Camel No. 5, for instance, carried ‘one chest of drawers, two iron cots, tea tables and pans for washing up.’ Camel No. 11 bore on its back ‘two boxes containing drawing room sundries, servants’ coats, iron bath, cheval glass and plate basket. A piano, where carts could be used, required a cart to itself and had to be swung so as ‘to avoid being injured by jolting.’ These recommendations, and much else, are contained in a book entitled The Complete Indian Housekeeper & Cook, first published in 1888 and running into nine editions, the last of which appeared in 1917. The joint authors of the book were Grace Garddner and Flors Annie Steele who, if I remember rightly, became well-known as a writer of children’s stories. The fly-leaf bears the following inscription: ‘To the English girls to whom Fate may assign the task of being house-mothers in our Eastern Empire this little book is dedicated.’ The book has a chapter on the duties of the mistress which has unkind words to say about the memsahibs who, because they are careless with Indian servants, "put up with a degree of slovenliness and dirt which would disgrace a den in St. Giles." Such mistresses, says the book, "never go into the kitchen for the simple reason that their appetites for breakfast might be marred by seeing the khidmatgar using his toes as an efficient toast-rack or their desire for dinner weakened by seeing the soup strained through a greasy turban." There is a great deal more about domestic servants that might be both amusing and instructive for the housewife of today. A system of rewards and punishments is recommended. Servants should be engaged, says the book, at the lowest rate possible and so much as ‘bucksheesh’ conditional on good service. A khidmatgar, for example, should be paid Rs 9 per month and an additional rupee for rendering satisfaction. Our of this extra emolument came the fines beginning with a pice for forgetfulness and mounting to the entire sum of one rupee for lying. A somewhat drastic alternative to the fines was an enforced dose of castor oil ! As the last edition of the book was published during World War I, the two writers conceded that there was some justification for the servants’ clamour for higher wages. ‘What with atta seven seers to the rupee and ghee one rupee four annas a seer.’ The chapter on domestic servants ends with the following words: "Luncheon and dinner ordered, the mistress should proceed to the storeroom where both the bearer and the khidmatgar should be in attendance. Another few minutes will suffice to give out everything required for the day’s consumption, the accounts, writing of orders etc, and then the mistress (with sinking heart) may begin the daily inspection of the pantry, scullery and kitchen. We do not advise an unably haughtiness but an Indian household can no more be governed peacefully without dignity and prestige than our British Empire." The book has more than a good word to say about the quality of cooking ingredients available in the bazaar. I quote: "Indian flour from many local mills, notably in Delhi, and Bombay, will be found quite equal to Snowflake American and more than half as cheap again. Indian virmicelli or samai is no bad substitute for Italian and the sooji will take the place in all recipes of semolina.’ The chapter on "native dishes" contains recipes for some whose names are no longer familiar. Dumpoke, for instance, was made of boned chicken, boiled rice, fresh herbs, onions and hard-boiled eggs. For Kulleah Yekhanee, 32 units of solid, lean mutton were required to which were added 4 onions, 1/4 unit each of ginger and cloves, 1 unit curry powder, 2 of lime juice and salt to taste. The concoction was to be "stewed till tender." I would very much like to hear the comments of a chef in one of our five-star hotels on these weird culinary products! The final chapter in the preface to the 9th edition reads: "Prices will rise but if the earnest housekeeper will herself cipher out the percentage of this rise, and see if the enhanced cost tallies with the ratio of her increased expenditure all around, she will be able to judge whether life in India is necessarily or unnecessarily expensive’. Not being an economist or a mathematician this exercise is beyond my comprehension!
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