Part 1
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS,
Chap. Copyriofit JN'o.
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA.
PANDITA RAMABAI:
The Story of Her Life
PANDITA RAMABAI
The Story of Her Life
BY HELEN S. DYER
New York Chicago Toronto Fleming H. Revell Company
Publishers of Evangelical Literature
"^Vfo C'jptEs Received OCT 22 1900
OaOW DIVISION, NOV 20 1900
Copyright 1900
by FLEMING H. REVELL COMPANY
INTRODUCTION
TOWARDS the close of the eighteenth century, when books were few, a remarkable volume entitled " Monumental Pillars," was published for
English Christians. It was compiled from authentic records of the Lord's dealings in providence and grace with individual Christians; of summary justice meted out to those who had blasphemed His name ; of wonderful dreams and their fulfilment ; of preservation of life through following the inner guidance of the Spirit of God; and similar testimonies tending to show the direct individual methods of God with the children of men, and of the absolute certainty of a particular providential care over their lives.
The story told in the following pages will show how the Lord, having a purpose of grace towards the downtrodden widows of India, has raised up one of that despised class to erect a " Monumental Pillar '' to His name. The whole may be designated as a Record of
Answered Prayers and Fulfilled Promises. Ramabai could adopt the language of Eliezer of old, and say,
6 INTRODUCTION
" I being in the way, the Lord led me." The human part of the work has been persevering faith and obedience ; and as God dehghts to honour faith, the blessing has come, and the work has grown.
When, in the providence of God, my husband was obliged to relinquish the work in India in which we had been engaged for more than ten years, it was impressed upon my mind that the Lord would have us do something in England for Ramabai. This book has been written in response to that impression.
We know also that Ramabai covets the prayers of
God's people. It has therefore been on our hearts to do something to bring this work more definitely before the Lord's remembrancers. Ramabai is intensely desirous that all the glory should be given to God. In a recent letter she writes : " I do not want to be in this place, or have anything to do in connection with it, unless the Lord wants me to be here. It is all His work, and He will take care of it. He is giving me joy, and grace, and strength, for the work day by day. I want you to pray very much for me, that I may be kept very humble and close to Christ." She says that she has had it on her mind to ask Christian people to form prayer circles specially to pray for the salvation of India's twenty-three millions of widows. She believes that if two or three believing ones would meet together and agree upon this subject, and pray specially for it,
INTRODUCTION 7 the Lord would answer their prayer, and qualify those whom she is training to go out in increasing numbers with the Gospel message. In a letter I received from her, in reference to this, she says : " I shall be glad indeed if a Prayer Circle be organized in England, and the Lord permitting, for you to take a leading part in organizing it. I tried to get some friends to do it when
I was in England in 1898; but it was not the Lord's will then to let the plan be carried out. I am awaiting His time and orders, and leave everything to Him."
After much prayerful consideration we have therefore launched the
Sisters of India Prayer Union, to include first of all the work for India's daughters in the hands of Pandita Ramabai, and any other work of faith and labour of love carried on by the women of
India for the salvation of their own people.
I shall be glad to send further particulars to any who may write to me.
Helen S. Dyer.
CONTENTS
PAGE
Introduction • ^
CHAPTER I
The Child of the Forest; An Orphan; A Pilgrim; A
Wife; And a Widow ii
CHAPTER n
The Hindu Widow Begins Her Life-work: Lessons
Learned in England and America 30
CHAPTER HI
Dreams Become Reality; The School for High-caste
Widows Established in India 38
CHAPTER IV
A Visit to the " Sharada Sadan," and a Glimpse at Some of its Pupils 47
CHAPTER V
Some of Ramabai's Pupils Become Christians ; Opposition and Persecution 57
CHAPTER VI
The Marble Halls of Hinduism 66
CHAPTER VII
Plans for the Future; Ramabai's Spiritual Experiences. . T7 lo CONTENTS
CHAPTER VIII
PAGE Asking Great Things of God 91
CHAPTER IX
The Famine of 1897, and the Rescue of Starving Widows 100
CHAPTER X
"Mukti"—the New Settlement at Khedgaon 113
CHAPTER XI
Material Progress and Spiritual Advancement 129
CHAPTER XII
Rescue Work During the Famine of 1900 145
PANDITA RAMABAI:
The Story of Her Life
CHAPTER I.
THE CHILD OF THE FOREST ; AN ORPHAN ; A PILGRIM ; A wife; and a WIDOW.
" God hath chosen the weak things of the world to confound the things which are mighty ; and base things of the world, and things which are despised, hath God chosen, yea, and things which are not, to bring to nought things that are: that no flesh should glory in His presence."—I Cor. i.
27-29. AN eloquent commentary on these inspired words may be found in the life and work of Pandita Ramabai. For in her " God hath chosen " a weak Indian widow to do mighty works in His great name. An emancipated member of a class of women held in the bondage of idolatry and superstition for ages,
Ramabai, having found light, liberty, and salvation for herself, seeks the same for her fellow-widows, her race, and her country. Measurably in sight of a comfortable
Government appointment—the Eldorado of thousands
12 PANDITA RAMABAI in India—she gave it up, in the prospect of devoting herself to the uplifting and enlightening of Hindu widows.
It is characteristic of Ramabai that she works with all her heart and soul for the highest ideal she knows and as soon as more light dawns upon her, she leaves the things that are behind, and reaches out to that which opens up in the vista of the future. This thought explains the developments of her work and plans during the past years, and prepares those who know her well for further surprising developments in the future.
If Ramabai's work has not patterned itself after the exact ideal set out in her mind when she returned to
India in 1887—to begin a school that should open the paths of knowledge to young widows in such a way that they should not have to dread the loss of their ancestral religion—it has been prosecuted according to the pattern revealed to her " in the Mount." ^
While still holding open a door to a liberal education to the high caste Hindu widow, without causing her to break her caste, Ramabai has herself become the moving spirit in an aggressive. Evangelistic, and Industrial Mission.
To sketch the developments of this work as personally observed by the writer, is the object of these chapters; but an outline of the life-story of this re-
*Heb. viii. 5-
THE CHILD OF THE FOREST 13 markable woman is necessary for those unacquainted with her history.
There are factors in making Ramabai the woman she is which date back to forty years before her birth, when her father, Ananta Shastri, a student at Poona, was witness of the (to him) astonishing fact that a woman could be taught to read and recite Sanskrit.
His tutor was also tutor to one of the princesses in the household of the Royal Peishwa; and Ananta Shastri made up his mind that knowledge was an excellent thing for a woman as well as for a man, and that his wife should be taught to read also. In due time he returned to his ancestral home in the Mangalore district but his bride and his mother both opposed his efforts to teach the former, and he was obliged to relinquish the plan.
Years passed ; his family grew up, his wife died, and he set out on pilgrimage. From a fellow-pilgrim with daughters he obtained a fine little girl of nine years for his second wife, took her home and delivered her to his mother, as usual, for domestic training, but asserted his right to teach the child to read. Continual opposition caused him to realize that this experiment was likely to fail also ; so he took his wife and started off into the forest, where a rude home was made. The child-wife was tenderly cared for, but sedulously taught; so that in the process of years, when woman-
14 PANDITA RAMABAI hood and the cares of family life came on, it was her voice that taught the sacred learning of the Brahmins to the children of the family. The father was revered as a holy as well as a learned man, and pilgrims and students flocked into his forest home. Ramabai venerates the memory of her father, believing that, like
Cornelius, the old Brahmin scholar was one of the class whom Peter confessed to be " accepted " with
God.^
It was in this forest home that Ramabai's childhood was spent; and among her earliest recollections are those of being awakened in the early mornings by a loving mother to hear and repeat her lessons. Her love of reading was from a child remarkable. Sanskrit, in which all the classics of Hinduism are written, was to her as her mother tongue. The ponderous volumes which form the scriptures of Hinduism were all accessible to her, and she became familiar with their contents and doctrines. At twelve years of age she had committed to memory eighteen thousand verses from the Puranas. This religious learning forms the highest education of the Brahmin or priestly caste, to which Ramabai's family belonged. She says that though she was not formally taught Marathi, yet hearing her parents speak it, and being in the habit of reading newspapers and books in that language, she
THE CHILD OF THE FOREST 15 acquired a correct knowledge of it. In the same manner when travelHng about she acquired also a knowledge of Kanarese, Hindustani, and Bengali. In fact, she may be said to have a knowledge of all those dialects of India which are based on the Sanskrit, the sacred language of the East. With her parents and brother all enthusiasts in Brahminic learning, and pioneers in the education of women, it was no wonder that Ramabai's remarkable talents were cultivated, till she became, under their instruction, a "prodigy of erudition.*'
I have before me a photograph taken in Bombay between thirty and forty years ago. It is a copy of an old daguerreotype, a family group. The father, an aged man; the mother, a comely woman under thirty a boy and a girl in their teens ; and Ramabai, a little maiden of seven, nestling at her mother's side. Their Spartan adherence to all Hindu customs was well illustrated by this journey to Bombay. They came from the Malabar coast by sea in a country vessel, and not a morsel of food or a drop of water passed the lips of one of them while on the journey, which lasted three days—Ramabai remembers them keenly now, as days of misery.
The poverty that overtook the family in Ramabai's early teens was partly caused by the open house kept for so many years for pilgrims and students; and then
J 5 PANDITA RAMABAI came the beginnings of the terrible famine which culminated in South India in 1876-77, but which, Ramabai says, was keenly felt by many three years before. The share of the ancestral land, to which her brother was heir, was sold, with his consent, to pay the family debts, and the family went on pilgrimage. How they parted with all their money, jewels, and valuables in the vain hope of propitiating the gods and securing a return of fortune's favours, Ramabai has pathetically told in her " Famine Experiences," as follows :-—
" My recollections carry me back to the hard times some twenty-two years ago. The last great famine of Madras presidency reached its climax in the years
1876-77, but it began at least three years before that time. I was in my teens then, and so thoroughly ignorant of the outside world that I cannot remember observing the condition of other people, yet saw enough of distress in our own and a few other families to realize the hard-heartedness of unchanged human nature.
" High caste and respectable poor families, who are not accustomed to hard labour and pauperism, suffered then, as they do now, more than the poorer classes. My own people, among many others, fell victims to the terrible famine. We had known better days. My father was a land-holder and an honoured Pandit,* and had acquired wealth by his learning. But by-and-by,
*A learned man or teacher.
THE CHILD OF THE FOREST 17 when he became old and infirm and blind in the last days of his earthly life, he lost all the property in one way or another. My brother, sister, and myself, had no secular education to enable us to earn our livelihood by better work than manual labour. We had all the sacred learning necessary to lead an honest religious life, but the pride of caste and superior learning and vanity of life prevented our stooping down to acquire some industry whereby we might have saved the precious lives of our parents.
" In short, we had no common sense, and foolishly spent all the money we had in hand in giving alms to
Brahmins to please the gods, who, we thought, would send a shower of gold mohurs upon us and make us rich and happy. We went to several sacred places and temples, to worship different gods and to bathe in sacred rivers and tanks to free ourselves from sin and curse, which brought poverty on us. We prostrated ourselves before the stone and metal images of the gods, and prayed to them day and night ; the burden of our prayer being that the gods would be pleased to give us wealth, learning, and renown. My dear brother, a stalwart young fellow of twenty-one, spoilt his health and wasted his finely built body by fasting months and months. But nothing came of all this futile effort to please the gods—the stone images remained as hard as ever, and never answered our prayers. Oh that we had i8 PANDITA RAMABAI found out then that, 'Every man is brutish in his knowledge, every founder is confounded by the graven
The idols image ; for his molten image is falsehood ' ; have spoken vanity, and the diviners have seen a lie, and have told false dreams ; they comfort in vain.'
" We knew the Vedanta, and knew also that we worshipped not the images, but some gods whom they represented—still all our learning and superior knowledge was of no avail. We bowed to the idols as thousands of learned Brahmins do. We expected them to speak to us in wonderful oracles. We went to the astrologers with money and other presents, to know from them the minds of the gods concerning us. In this way we spent our precious time, strength, and wealth, in vain. When no money was left in hand we began to sell the valuable things belonging to us—^jewelry, costly garments, silver-ware; and even the cooking vessels of brass and copper were sold to the last, and the money spent in giving alms to Brahmins till nothing but a few silver and copper coins were left in our possession. We bought coarse rice with them and ate very sparingly ; but it did not last long. At last the day came when we had finished eating the last grain of rice—and nothing but death by starvation remained for our portion. Oh the sorrow, the helplessness, and the disgrace of the situation
" We assembled together to consider what we should
THE CHILD OF THE FOREST 19 do next; and after a long discussion came to the conclusion that it was better to go into the forest and die there than bear the disgrace of poverty among our own people. And that very night we left the house in which we were staying at Tirpathy—a sacred town situated on the top of Venkatghiri—and entered into the great forest, determined to die there. Eleven days and nights in which we subsisted on water and leaves and a handful of wild dates—were spent in great bodily and mental pain. At last our dear old father could hold out no longer—the tortures of hunger were too much for his poor, old, weak body. He determined to drown himself in a sacred tank near by, thus to end all his earthly suffering. It was suggested that the rest of us should either drown ourselves, or break the family and go our several ways. But drowning ourselves seemed most* practicable. To drown oneself in some sacred river or tank is not considered suicide by the Hindus; so we felt free to put an end to our lives in that way. Father wanted to drown himself first; so he took leave of all the members of the family one by one. I was his youngest child, and my turn came last. I shall never forget his last injunctions to me. His blind eyes could not see my face; but he held me tight in his arms, and stroking my head and cheeks, he told me, in a few words broken with emotion, to remember how he loved me, and how he taught me to do right, and never depart
20 PANDITA RAMABAI from the way of righteousness. His last loving command to me was to lead an honourable life if I lived at all, and to serve God all my life. He did not know the only true God, but served the—to him—unknown God with all his heart and strength; and he was very desirous that his children should serve Him to the last.
' Remember, my child,' he said, * you are my youngest, my most beloved child. I have given you into the hand of our God; you are His, and to Him alone you must belong, and serve Him all your life.'
" He could speak no more. My father's prayers for me were, no doubt, heard by the Almighty, the allmerciful Heavenly Father, whom the old Hindu did not know. The God of all flesh did not find it impossible to bring me, a great sinner and unworthy child of His, out of heathen darkness into the saving light of His love and salvation. I can now say to the departed spirit of the loving parent—
' Yes, dear father, I will serve the only true God to the last.' But I could not say so when my father spoke to me for the last time.
I listened to him, but was too ignorant, too bewildered to understand him, or make an intelligent answer. We were after this dismissed from father's presence; he wanted an hour for meditation and preparation before death.
" While we were placed in such a bewildering situation, the merciful God, who so often prevents His
THE CHILD OF THE FOREST 21 sinful children from rushing headlong into the deep pit of sin, came to our rescue. He kept us from the dreadful act of being witnesses to the suicide of our own loved father. God put a noble thought into the heart of my brother, who said he could not bear to see the sad sight. He would give up all caste pride and go to work to support our old parents ; and as father was unable to walk, he said he would carry him down the mountain into the nearest village, and then go to work. He made his intentions known to father, and begged him not to drown himself in the sacred tank. So the question was settled for that time. Our hearts were gladdened, and we prepared to start from the forest. And yet we wished very much that a tiger, a great snake, or some other wild animal would put an end to our lives. We v/ere too weak to move, and too proud to beg or work to earn a livelihood. But the resolution was made, and we dragged ourselves to the jungle as best we could.
It took us nearly two days to come out of the forest into the village at the foot of the mountain. Father suffered intensely throughout this time. Weakness caused by starvation and the hardships of the life in the wilderness hastened his death. We reached the village with great difficulty, and took shelter in a temple; but the Brahmin priests of the temple would not let us stay there. They had no pity for the weak and helpless.
So we were obliged again to move from the temple and
22 PANDITA RAMABAI go out of the village into the ruins of an old temple where no one but the wild animals dwelt in the night.
There we stayed for four days. A young Brahmin seeing the helplessness of our situation gave us some food.
" The same day on which we reached that village, my father was attacked by fever from which he did not recover. On the first day, at the beginning of his last illness, he asked for a little sugar and water. We gave him water, but could not give sugar. He could not eat the coarse food, and shortly after he became unconscious, and died on the morning of the third day.
" The same kind young Brahmin who had given us some food came to our help at that time. He could not do much. He was not sure whether we were
Brahmins or not ; and as none of his co-villagers would come to carry the dead, he could not, for fear of being put out of caste, come to help my brother to carry the remains of my father. But he had the kindness to let some men dig a grave at his own expense, and follow the funeral party as far as the river. Father had entered the Order of a Sannyasin before his death. So his body was to be buried in the ground according to the commands of the Shastras. As there was no one else to carry the dead, my brother tied the body in his dhoti like a bundle, and carried it alone over two miles to its last resting-place. We sadly followed to the river bank, and helped him a little. So we buried our father
THE CHILD OF THE FOREST 23 outside that village, away from all human habitation, and returned with heavy hearts to the ruins of the old temple where we had taken up our abode. That same evening our mother was attacked by fever, and said she would not live much longer. But we had to leave the place ; there was no work to be found, and no food to be had. We walked with our sick mother for awhile, and then some kind-hearted people gave us a little food and money to pay our fare as far as Raichur. There we stayed for some weeks, being quite unable to move from that town, owing to the illness of our mother. Our life at Raichur was a continuous story of hopelessness and starvation. Brother was too weak to work, and we could not make up our minds to go to beg. Now and then kind people gave us some food. Mother suffered intensely from fever and hunger. We, too, suffered from hunger and weakness; but the sufferings of our mother were more than we could bear to see. Yet we had to keep still through sheer helplessness. Now and then, when delirious, mother would ask for different kinds of food. She could eat but little; yet we were unable to give her the little she wanted.
" Once she suffered so much from hunger that she could bear it no longer, and sent me into a neighbour's house to beg a little piece of coarse bajree cake. I went there very reluctantly. The lady spoke kindly to me; but I could on no account open mv mouth to beg that
24 PANDITA RAMABAI piece of bajree bread. With superhuman effort and a firm resolution to keep my feelings from that lady, I kept the tears back; but they poured out of my nose instead of my eyes, in spite of me, and the expression of my face told its own story. The kind Brahmin lady, guessing what was in my mind, asked me if I would like to have some food ; so I said, * Yes, I want only a piece of bajree bread.' She gave me what I wanted, and I felt very grateful; but could not say a word to express my gratitude. I ran to my mother fn great haste, and gave it to her. But she could not eat; she was too weak. The fever was on her; she became unconscious, and died in a few days after that.
Her funeral was as sad as that of my father, with the exception that two Brahmins came to help my brother and me to carry her body to the burning ground, about three miles from the town.
" I need not lengthen this account with our subsequent experiences. My elder sister also died of starvation, after suffering from illness and hunger. During those few months before our sister died, we three travelled on foot from place to place in search of food and work; but we could not get much of either. My brother and myself continued our sad pilgrimage to the northern boundary of India, and back to the east as far as Calcutta. Brother got work here and there ; but most of the time we lived wanderers' lives. Very often we
THE CHILD OF THE FOREST 25 had to go without food for days. Even when my brother had work to do, he got so Httle wages—only four rupees a month, and sometimes much less than that—that we were obliged to live on a handful of grain soaked in water, and a little salt. We had no blankets or thick garments to cover ourselves ; and, when travelling, we had to walk barefoot, without umbrellas, and to rest in the night, either under the trees on the roadside or the arches of bridges, or lie down on the ground in the open air. Once on the banks of the
Jhelum, a river in the Punjab, we were obliged to rest at night in the open air, and tried to keep off the intense cold by digging two grave-like pits, and putting ourselves into them and covering our bodies—except our heads—with dry sand of the river bank. Sometimes the demands of hunger were so great that we would satisfy our empty stomachs by eating a handful of wild berries, and swallowing the hard stones together with their coarse skins."
It was during these wanderings with her brother that
Ramabai's faith in the Hindu religion was shaken, though until twenty years of age she worshipped the gods of brass and stone. The freedom of their lives had given to the brother and sister keen powers of observation, and they resolved to test the teachings of the sacred books whenever possible. The following is but one of many tests that exposed the hollowness of their
26 PANDITA RAMABAI religion, and the deception of the priests. They had been taught that in the Himalayas there was a beautiful lake, in which were seven floating mountains—the forms in which seven sages, or Mahatmas, appeared. When sinless pilgrims came to the shore, the Mahatrnas floated toward them, and received their worship; but before the wicked they were immovable. During their journeyings, Ramabai and her brother, to their surprise and joy, found themselves near this lake, and beheld the mountains. They prostrated themselves, but received no sign. The priests warned them against going into the water, lest they be devoured by crocodiles; but the brother, early in the morning, when the priests were not on the watch, dared the crocodiles, and swam out to the mountains. He found them to be masses of stone and mud planted with trees, standing on rafts. The whole mystery was soon cleared. Behind the mountains a little boat was concealed. When a poor pilgrim, desirous of being considered sinless, crossed the palm of a priest's hand with sufficient coin, and called on the
Mahatmas to float toward him, a priest in the boat gave the raft a push toward him, and he went away happy in his delusion.
While wandering from place to place, Ramabai had free access to the homes of the high-caste Hindus ; saw the home-life in all its cruel details, and resolved to de-
THE CHILD OF THE FOREST 27 vote her life to the redemption of her unfortunate sisters, especially the child-widows.
Ramabai and her brother gradually developed into public lecturers in the cause of the education of women.
In Calcutta, Ramabai attracted much attention; and a solemn conclave of Pandits bestowed on her the title of
Sarasvati, on account of her learning. She is the only woman who has been permitted to call herself Pandita.
The Pandits were astonished at her learning. Beside her thorough knowledge of their sacred books, she had acquired fluency in seven of the languages of India ; and her ideas on reform were remarkable for so young a person.
Echoes of Ramabai's lectures reached England even at this early date (December, 1880). A gentleman in
India, writing to a friend there, told of an accomplished
Brahmin lady travelHng through Bengal with her brother, holding meetings on the education and emancipation of women. " They were received everywhere," said this Indian correspondent, " with great enthusiasm by the Hindus, who were delighted to hear their holy
Sanskrit from a woman's lips. It seemed to them as if
Sarasvati (the goddess of eloquence) had come down to visit them. Instead of a hot, confined room, we had a long and broad terrace open to the sky, and with the Ganges flowing at our feet. The meeting was at
28 PANDITA RAMABAI half-past four in the afternoon, by which time the terrace was shaded from the sun by trees and houses to the westward. At the eastern end of the terrace a small marble table, with a glass of flowers on it, and some chairs were set, and there Ramabai stood up facing the west and addressed her audience. On her right was the Ganges, covered with large, broad-sailed boats, of a type which perhaps has lasted for two thousand years. There was little or nothing around to remind her or her audience of European civilization. The clear, blue sky and the broad river coming sweeping down from the walls of Benares dominated everything else." This writer adds that " the young lady is twenty-two years of age, the daughter of a learned
Pandit, slight and girlish looking, with a fair complexion and light grey eyes. She is now engaged to be married to a Bengali pleader, an M.A. of Calcutta
University."
Ramabai's parents had, contrary to custom, refrained from marrying her at an early age. They had betrothed the elder daughter in infancy to a youth whose parents solemnly promised should be educated to equal his bride. But these people broke their promise, and great trouble resulted when the time for consummating the marriage arrived. Thus it came to pass that to prevent such a calamity occurring in the case of their
THE CHILD OF THE FOREST 29 second daughter, her marriage was put off; and then, at the age of sixteen, the parents passed away within six weeks of each other.
Before Ramabai and her brother had been long in
Calcutta, the latter, weakened by years of privation, was taken ill and died. His chief concern during his brief illness was for his unprotected sister. " God will take care of me," said/she, to comfort him. " Then," he replied, " all will be well." .
Shortly after, Ramabai was married to the educated
Bengali gentleman mentioned above, who took her to his home in Assam. The marriage was a civil rite, for they had rejected Hinduism, and knew nothing of
Christ. The marriage was a happy one, but of painfully short duration. In nineteen months, cholera snatched away the husband, leaving Ramabai, with her little daughter, Manorama (heart's joy), to begin her career as an Indian widow.
CHAPTER II.
THE HINDU WIDOW BEGINS HER LIFE-WORK: LESSONS LEARNED IN ENGLAND AND AMERICA.
" Thy words were found, and I did eat them ; and Thy word was unto me the joy and rejoicing of mine heart: for I am called by Thy name, O Lord God of Hosts."
Jer. XV. i6. RAMABAFS position in her widowed state differed from that of the millions of her fellowcountrywomen when bereaved of their natural protectors, in that she was not ignorant of the world and its ways, and by the fact that she had an education fitting her to open out a path of usefulness for herself.
Accordingly, we find her, within a few months of the death of her husband, at Poona, the ancient capital of the Marathas, having resumed her former occupation as lecturer on the Education of Women.
The evil custom of confining high-caste women within the four walls of the Zenana, which prevails in the
North-West Provinces and other parts of India, is unknown among the Brahmins of the Maratha country.
In Poona and Bombay all Maratha women are free to
BEGINS HER LIFE WORK 31 walk and ride abroad^ to see and to be seen. This, and the fact that Ramabai had relatives and family connections in Poona, drew her to recommence her career as a lecturer at this great centre of Brahminism.
In prosecuting her object, Ramabai took her stand upon her knowledge of the Shastras, and maintained that their ancient teaching enjoined the instruction of women ; and that the neglected and ignorant condition of women was a modern descent into degradation. She advocated that high-caste girls should be instructed before marriage in Sanskrit and the vernacular. She also strongly condemned the practice of child-marriage.
Ramabai's lectures made a wide impression upon the best families in Poona, and, through her instrumentality, a Society of high-caste women was formed, having for its object the education of girls and tl;,e postponement of marriage to maturity. Encouraged by the success of this project in Poona, Ramabai went from city to city throughout the Maratha country, forming branches of the Arya Mahila Somaj, as this woman's Society was called. Ramabai also busied herself with writing and translating, in the endeavour to create a literature helpful to her cause. In her leisure hours she gave lessons on morality and religion to the women of Poona.
It was on Ramabai's heart during this time to start an institution for the education and succour of helpless
32 PANDITA RAMABAI widows. In this class she saw, in faith, the future teachers of the high-caste girls. But she failed in getting the necessary financial support from the Hindu community to put this cherished plan into execution.
It was here and now, however, that she rescued her first widow. The girl was a waif of the Poona streets, a
Brahmin child of twelve years, cast out by her husband's relatives after his death. For several years she had lived the life of a street arab. Her appeal to
Ramabai was not on the ground of starvation and homelessness, but on the ever-increasing difficulty of keeping her budding womanly honour intact. To her homely face and strange defective eyes she probably owed her escape from the harpies of vice thus far.
Ramabai was poor herself, but she took the girl in, to share whatever food she had, and to protect her from wrong and outrage. She is now a useful Biblewoman, labouring in connection with Ramabai's settlement at Mukti.
In 1882 the British Government appointed a Commission to inquire into the question of Education in
India. The terms of reference included the definite and separate question of female education; and when the
Commission visited Poona, it was invited to a reception by over three hundred Brahmin women connected with
Ramabai's Arya Mahila Somaj, who with their children
BEGINS HER LIFE WORK 33 assembled in the Town Hall at Poona. Ramabai was the speaker, and her subject the Education of Women.
Subsequently Ramabai was examined before the
Commission, and the President was so struck with her evidence that he had it translated from the Marathi and printed in English. In her replies to the questions put by the Commission, Ramabai told of her father's strenuous efforts for the education of women, of her brother's views, and those of her late husband, who was a Vakil,^ and fellow of Calcutta University. She told the Commission that she felt herself bound to the end of her life to labour on behalf of her countrywomen. She advocated that Girls' Schools should have specially trained women teachers ; that women inspectors should also be employed; and concluded with a forcible appeal that Government should make provision for the study of medicine by women, doctors of their own sex being, in her opinion, one of the greatest needs of the women of India.
The publicity given to the proceedings of the Education Commission brought Ramabai into notice in circles other than the Marathi Brahmins. She now began to feel that she herself needed more training and experience in regard to the education of others. At this time she was unacquainted with the English language, although so well versed in those of India; and the idea
*A lawyer.
34 PANDITA RAMABAI that she should go to England for study and training forced itself again and again upon her mind.
Ever since the death of her brother, and more particularly again after her husband died, Ramabai had felt in an undefined manner that God was guiding her.
Disillusioned by painful experiences during her girlhood from the superstitions of Hinduism, she was still working from the Hindu standpoint. She knew but little of Christianity, and had no thought of becoming a
Christian, but believed in an all-powerful deity whom she felt to be guiding her. Her mind became possessed of a divine unrest ; and given the opportunity, she one day found herself bound for England—going forth, as she says, like Abraham, not knowing whither she went.
Arriving in England with her baby daughter, Ramabai was kindly received by a Church of England Sisterhood at Wantage, a community having a mission at Poona.
Here she remained for a year, studying the English language, and adding to her stock of information in many ways.
Four years before, when in Calcutta, Ramabai had made her first acquaintance with the Christian Scriptures. Keshub Chunder Sen, the founder of the
Brahmo sect of Reformed Hindus, had given her a little book of precepts from all religions, most of which were from the New Testament. This greatly attracted
BEGINS HER LIFE WORK 35 her ; and later she possessed herself of a complete Bible, and commenced to read it.
At Wantage, time and opportunity to study the subject were afforded ; and here Ramabai confessed herself a Christian, and was baptized, with her little daughter, according to the custom of the Church of England, on
September 29th, 1883.
The difference that Ramabai at that time discerned between the good precepts of the Hindu Scriptures and the Gospel of Jesus Christ she thus expressed : " While the old Hindu Scriptures have given us some beautiful precepts of loving, the New Dispensation of Christ has given us the grace to carry these principles mto practice; and that makes all the difference in the world.
The precepts are like a steam engine on the track, beautiful and with great possibilities ; Christ and His Gospel are the steam, the motive power that can make the engine move."
After the year spent at Wantage, Ramabai received the appointment of Professor of Sanskrit in the Cheltenham Ladies' College, where she found opportunity to study mathematics, natural science, and English literature. The immediate goal of her mental horizon was at this time bounded by a possible Government appointment in connection with the education of women in
India.
36 PANDITA RAMABAI
A year and a half was spent at Cheltenham, when an invitation to visit America opened out a new vista before Ramabai's eyes, and led to important results. A high-caste Hindu lady from Poona, a friend and relative of Ramabai, had followed her in her determination to be of use to the millions of their fellow-countrywomen.
Anaridibai Joshi had reached America, and studied medicine in the Women's Medical College of Philadelphia. She was now about to graduate as M.D., and the invitation to Ramabai was to witness this ceremony.
Ramabai's mind was agitated, she did not desire any interruption to her studies ; but finally came to the conclusion that it would be a help to her life-work to visit
America. She went with the intention of staying a few weeks. She stayed almost three years.
The public school system of America—including girls as well as boys, and the Kindergarten, training hand as well as head—greatly attracted Ramabai. She felt she must remain and study these ; and in the course of a few months she enrolled herself for a course of
Kindergarten study in a Philadelphia training school.
In Rachel Bodley, A.M., M.D., the Dean of the Women's Medical College in Philadelphia, Ramabai found a true friend, and with her also a home. Dr. Bodley had sheltered Anandibai Joshi, and helped her in her studies ; and the sad news of the untimely death of that devoted little Indian woman, a few months after her re-
BEGINS HER LIFE WORK 37 turn to her husband and home in India, bound Dr.
Bodley more closely to Ramabai, and evoked in her a keener interest in her plans for the future. For now all
Ramabai's old desire to benefit her countrywomen by founding schools which combined the training of the hand with that of the head, revived; and forsaking plans which regarded only the higher education of the few women in Government High Schools or Colleges in India, she concentrated her thoughts upon native schools founded by and for native women.
While living with Dr. Bodley and studying Kindergarten methods, Ramabai wrote her famous book, entitled, " The High-Caste Hindu Woman." Here she portrayed the true history of countless thousands of lives doomed by a perverted and decaying religious system of lifelong ignorance ; to child-marriage with all its evils; to the absorption of young wives into the joint family system ; to the terrible abuse and degradation of widowhood; and to the re-action of this treatment of women upon social and family life in India.
Dr. Bodley prefaced the book with an admirable treatise, sketching the devoted life and early death of
Anandibai Joshi, relating Ramabai's history, and supporting and enforcing her appeal for help to go back to
India and found an educational home for young widows, who in their turn should go forth as teachers to enlighten the darkness of their countrywomen.
DREAMS BECOME REALITY; THE SCHOOL FOR HIGH-
' CASTE WIDOWS ESTABLISHED IN INDIA.
"He brought them forth also with silver and gold."—PsA.
cv. 37.
I ^HE silence of a thousand years has been
I broken! " aptly declared Dr. Bodley in her preface to Ramabai's volume, entitled,
" The High-Caste Hindu Woman."
Missionaries and travellers had had many a story to tell of the inaccessibility of Hindu women immured within the four walls of the Zenana. Those who had gained access behind the purdah, or mingled with the castes not entirely secluded, had felt the wall of separation raised by Oriental customs; so that, as yet, but a corner of the vail had been lifted. But now a voice had arisen from among themselves to tell with intimate knowledge how the ironbound customs of centuries had ground woman into a position of servitude and ignorance ; making her at one and the same time the slave of man, and his greatest hindrance in rising to the higher plane of life held out by the religion of Jesus Christ.
DREAMS BECOME REALITY 39
The book opened the way for Ramabai to the hearts of a class of cultured, earnest American women, who became deeply interested in the story of the imprisoned, contracted lives of India's daughters. Many of these were the abolitionists of America's great anti-slavery struggle of the previous decade. In the ranks of the
Woman's Christian Temperance Union Ramabai found much help and encouragement. The late Frances E.
Willard became her warm friend, and through her influence much interest was evoked.
Ramabai's lifelong desire to educate Hindu widows that through them a door might be opened into the dense darkness of Hinduism—now took tangible shape.
Ramabai travelled up and down the United States, speaking to large audiences here, and drawing-room meetings there, gaining interest and forming circles of help; at the same time exercising an alert eye with regard to every kind of educational enterprise with which she came in contact, noting many points for adaptation to the work in India later on.
At an overflowing meeting held in Boston in May,
1887, when the audience was moved to tears and laughter by her pathos and keen wit, a provisional committee of women was formed to consider Ramabai's plans—to act with her, and report later. On December 13th of the same year, at another public meeting, the Provisional Committee presented a report that was accepted, a
40 PANDITA RAMABAI list of officers who were elected, a constitution that was adopted; and the temporary Association became an organized body—it seemed to spring into existence and Ramabai saw her long-cherished plans take definite form. That night her joy was too great for sleep; when found sobbing in her room, she exclaimed, " I am crying for joy that my dream of years has become a reahty." The President and Vice-President of the Association comprised members of five denominations ; the
Board of Trustees, composed of some of the best business and professional men of Boston, was equally unsectarian, as was the Executive Committee, formed entirely of women.
Among converts to Christianity in India, especially those of the older Missions, there is a frequent trend towards a European style of living, fostered in some cases, without any intention on the part of the missionary, by the life in Christian boarding-schools, conducted after
European plans. This, by setting Western ideals of life before the Indian Christian, leads to discontent with the simple native customs of food and dress. Their incomes will not support them in Western luxuries; and, in consequence, the converts find themselves frequently in debt and difficulty.
This aspect of conversion to Christianity is looked upon with great disfavour by the Hindu community; and by its more ignorant members is regarded as part
DREAMS BECOME REALITY 41 of the Christian religion. Ramabai keenly felt this anomaly ; and realizing that Christianity was an Asiatic religion, and as such ought to be adaptable to India without Western additions, she wisely determined to maintain her Indian habits in all customs of food and dress. She would show her country people, on her return to India, that to become Christians, it was not necessary to denationalise themselves.
In fact, Ramabai's strict vegetarian diet must have caused some difficulty to her American hostesses, even as their grand dinners, of which she coul4 eat so little, were a source of embarrassment to her. Brought up as she had been, with an intense repugnance to any kind of flesh-eating, it was an ordeal to be seated at table in the place of honour next to the host, with a smoking roast of meat in front of him (the smell of which overpowered her) , and to have to decline everything except a little bread and plain vegetable. But
Ramabai, persevered in her determination, and returned to India as much of a Brahmin in food and habits, save as to their religious aspects, as she left it.
Ramabai having become a Christian, placed her, however, in a more serious difficulty than that of food, viz., the place in regard to religion which her educational home for widows should occupy. She had left her country in full sympathy with the more advanced Hindu reformers ; she was returning, having cut herself off
42 PANDITA RAMABAI from their sympathies by becoming a Christian. But she yearned more than ever to reach her own people; and the only method that approved itself to her judgment was to offer an education neutral as to religious teaching. Her plans in this respect were fully criticised as she went about expounding them to American audiences.
Many spiritually-minded people committed to missionary enterprise could not see why Ramabai should not cast in her lot with some Mission, and open an avowed Mission School. But Ramabai was strongly of opinion that no Mission School would reach the class for which her heart was aching. The people were too prejudiced against Christianity. Their widows were taught that it was better to commit suicide and be sure of heaven, rather than enter any institution established for the purpose of turning them from their ancestral faith.
In the midst of this controversy, Ramabai cast no slur on Missions or Mission work ; but she rallied many to her standard outside of the ordinary supporters of
Missions. In an interview with the representative of a
Chicago daily paper, in December, 1887, on being asked to give her opinion on the good done by missionaries in
India, Ramabai said : " Missionaries are showing by their precepts and example that Christianity does not mean going into other countries and taking possession
DREAMS BECOME REALITY 43 of them, putting taxes upon the people, introducing the liquor traffic, and gaining a great deal of revenue from the infamous traffics in rum and opium. As their numbers multiply they are gaining a foothold in the country, and also commanding the love and respect of the people by their earnestness in missionary work.
. . . And finally, the blessed Gospel will be everywhere preached by the missionaries; and I hope some day we shall owe to their labours and their prayers a great army of Christian apostles among our people who will eventually regenerate the whole Hindu nation through their lives and their teachings."
In the same interview, with a variety of illustrations,
Ramabai enforced her belief that the work she desired to do would prepare the way of missionaries by enabling widows to rise to an independent position in which they would be free to accept Christianity as she herself had
Christ," argued Ramabai, " came to give difdone.
ferent gifts to different people—some He made prophets ; some He made preachers ; some He made teachers.
Since I have become a Christian I have thought He has given me the gift of being a sweeper. I want to sweep away some of the old difficulties that lie before the missionaries in their efforts to reach our Hindu widows."
Ramabai further declared her belief that having the widows brought under the influence of her school, with the Bible placed in the hands of every pupil, Christian
44 PANDITA RAMABAI women as teachers, and Christian literattire in its
Hbrary, many would be won to see the beauty of Christianity, and embrace it for themselves. Thus it came to pass that the platform of her work was declared to be neutral as to its religious teaching. Her Hindu pupils were to have full liberty to retain thelt caste, and perform their religious observances.
In due time the " Ramabai Association " was complete. Its headquarters were in Boston; its base,
" Ramabai Circles,'' in towns and cities all over the country. Members of circles pledged themselves to give or collect a certain sum annually for ten years, to equip and sustain a home and school in India for the education and support of high-caste Hindu widows.
In May, 1888, Ramabai bade good-bye to her Boston friends and went on to Canada, and thence to the Pacific
Coast, gaining friends and forming circles all the way.
In November of the same year she left America for India via San Francisco and Hong Kong, and thus got a glimpse of China on the way. She arrived in Bombay on February ist, 1889, and chose that city in which to commence her work. Six weeks later the Widow's Home was quietly inaugurated in a house just back of the Chowpatty Sea-face. The modest announcement of " Sharada Sadan " (Abode of Wisdom) was placed on a board on its frontage. School commenced with two pupils, and the alphabet in three languages,
DREAMS BECOME REALITY 45
Marathi, English, and Sanskrit. One of the pupils had thrice attempted suicide, restrained only by the fear of being again born a woman. She is now the educated wife of a professor in Poona College, and a happy mother.
The Hindu reform circles in Bombay and Poona gave Ramabai a welcome ; her assurances of neutrality as to.
religion were generally, though cautiously, accepted; and, in a short time, more pupils of the desired class were obtained. Ramabai went in and out among the Hindus, and had frequent opportunities of lecturing as of yore, when she always commanded a large audience.
Miss Soonderbai H. Powar, at that time engaged in work among women in connection with one of the Bombay Missions, first brought me news of Ramabai and her work. She had visited Ramabai and been introduced to the pupils in residence. Her calling as a teacher of the Bible had been explained to them, and an opportunity to give a talk on the Bible and Christianity was afforded her. Ramabai's little daughter, Manorama, then about nine years old, had won Soonderbai's heart, by insisting that she was a Christian, and that the Bible was her Shastra.
In the course of a year or so, Ramabai moved the Sharada Sadan to Poona, as being a more healthy place, cheaper, and more suitable in every way for the work than Bombay. In 1892, through the continued gener-
46 PANDITA RAMABAI osity of her American friends, she was enabled to purchase a commodious bungalow in a fine position in
Poona, standing in about two acres of ground, which made an admirable home for the Sharada Sadan.
CHAPTER IV.
it A VISIT TO THE SHARADA SADAN, AND A GLIMPSE AT SOME OF ITS PUPILS.
" Wisdom hath builded her house, she hath hewn out her seven pillars." Prov. ix. i. THE house that Ramabai secured for the permanent location of the Sharada Sadan in Poona stands well back from the road; but to make the position still more secluded, Ramabai lined the walls that divided it from the road with a screen of trelliswork. This, covered with creeping vines and backed by flowering shrubs, added to the bowery appearance of the garden. The garden, occupying nearly half the compound, was dotted here and there with fine shade trees, the gold mohur, the plumeria, and others, which are covered with gorgeous flowers in their season.
Roses and lilies, jasmine and elemanta, variegated crotons, caladiums, bouganvillia, and the hundred and one tropical shrubs that are cherished greenhouse plants in our colder atmosphere, luxuriate in the beautiful climate of the deccan of India. Nowhere are they seen to more
48 PANDITA RAMABAI perfection than at Poona; and Ramabai's garden has always abounded with them. A shaded fernery, planted around a fountain close to the house, affords a cool retreat for the heat of the day. Ramabai, as a child of the forest, was ever an enthusiastic lover of flowers, and longed for her pupils to take delight in them also.
The house had its outer and inner apartments, like all houses built for Hindu family use. To these Ramabai added two long dormitories, built one above the other. The upper was reached by a stone staircase outside, a further flight of stairs leading to an enclosure on the roof, from which to study the stars.
" This is not an institution in which all the best rooms are reserved for the teaching staff," remarked Ramabai, to a party of visitors she was showing over the building on the occasion of its opening ceremonies in July,
1892. " My pupils," she continued, " are as free to come and go in the drawing-room as in any other part of the house. The Sadan with all its privileges has been instituted for their benefit. They come from homes where they have been treated as outcasts, where no love has been bestowed upon them, and no comforts provided for them. I wish them to see the contrast in all things where love rules. I wish them to become acquainted with as many good people as possible; to learn what the outside world is like from pictures and books; and to enjoy the wonderful works of God, as
VISIT TO THE " SHARADA SADAN " they ramble in the garden, study with the microscope, or view the heavens from the little verandah on the roof."
The Pandita's aims, as thus set forth by herself, represented truly the atmosphere of the Sharada Sadan as I found it on my first visit at that time. The pupils came and went everywhere, learned their lessons in groups in the drawing-room, or walked in the garden by twos and threes, gathered roses and lilies for each other and the visitors, made wreaths of jasmine and decked each other's hair.
" Bai," the usual Hindu title for the mistress of the house, was Ramabai's home appellation; while that of
Miss Soonderbai Powar was " Ukka " (elder sister). A few months previously Miss Powar had taken up her abode with Ramabai as companion and friend; and as loving elder sister to the pupils her influence has been blessed in a marked degree. Out of school hours the girls followed Ramabai about and clustered around her like bees; while Soonderbai's little room was usually crowded with pupils coming and going, sure of a hearing and help in any difficult phase of work or lessons.
The " good-night " scene, repeated with variations on all my visits to the Sadan during the subsequent seven years, was one to be enjoyed and remembered. When the retiring bell rang, wherever " Bai " and " Ukka " were to be found, there the girls and women
50 PANDITA RAMABAI flocked in. Every one must have a good-night kiss from the Brahmin woman of forty, who did the cooking, to the youngest child-widow. Some of them were not satisfied with one embrace, but would slyly come up a second time out of their turn, till the fun would get a little too riotous, and a summary dismissal was necessary.
There were then about forty widows in residence, ranging in age from little girls of seven to the aforesaid Brahmin cook of forty. But the majority were from fifteen to twenty-five. Most of the older women had their heads shaved, and wore their sarees drawn close around their faces to hide this disfigurement imposed upon them by cruel custom.
At this time of the opening ceremony in 1892, the schoolrooms were in the inner apartments, the verandahs being used as class-rooms. This was but a temporary arrangement, for the foundations were already in for a fine school-room in the compound opposite the entrance to the original building. This was completed and used a twelvemonth later. The other rooms were then utilized as dormitories for an increased number of pupils.
The opening ceremonies were in two sections. In the morning a company of missionaries and Christian friends of various denominations assembled in the drawing-room for a dedication service. Ramabai said she
VISIT TO THE " SHARADA SADAN " 51 desired a public thanksgiving to God for all the way He had led her, and for the provision of this beautiful building which had been given them by Christians in
America. The speaking and prayers, in which many present took vocal part, were in line with this thought. One of the speakers closed his remarks with a Scriptural quotation which may now be looked back upon in the light of a prophecy. Turning to Ramabai he said
" My sister, * The Lord shall increase you more and more, you and your children.' * "
In the evening the schoolroom was gaily decorated and filled with a sympathising company of Ramabai*s
Hindu friends, relatives of the pupils, and a few Europeans. Addresses in Marathi were given by Ramabai and others. The pupils sang a number of Marathi songs, one of which, describing the woes of the widow, was very touching. An American White Ribbon song was nicely rendered by a few of the girls ; and four of them gave, with marvellous correctness, an English dialogue, representing a scene in the life of Peter the Great.
Thus it will be seen that their education had made considerable advance since the alphabet commencement before-mentioned.
It was my privilege at this time to spend several days at the Sadan. The loving spirit that prevailed, and the all-prevading energy of the bright little woman at the
* Psalm cxv. 14-
52 PANDITA RAMABAI head of the house, were two features of the work that remained with me. There was never any trace of Oriental languor about Ramabai ; whatever she did she did with her might. Whether hearing the pupils recite their Marathi lessons, directing the malts in the garden, overseeing the workmen on the new building, or explaining the operations of the institution to a party of visitors—she was all life and energy, the centre and circumference of all that was going on.
I was particularly attracted by a happy group of child-widows, some half-dozen or more, about ten or twelve years of age. Such bright little girls! It was difficult to believe that they rested under the cruel ban of widowhood ! But even their games echoed the circumstances of their lives. One of these, in which there was an amount of screaming and running away, was explained to me. It was the new child-wife being tutored by her mother-in-law in domestic affairs, and, persistently misunderstanding her commands and bringing her the wrong articles, was being, in consequence, chased and punished!
Somewhere about this time one who heard it took down a conversation between some of these little girls, in which occurred the following passages, illustrating the condition of girl-children who, not knowing what marriage means, are yet widows :
ViTTo: " I was a mere baby when I was married.
VISIT TO THE " SHARADA SADAN "
We do not look like wives, do we ? Yet people call me
widow/ ' unlucky,' and say I have killed my husband."
Chanda : " I also am a widow, because my parents say so; but what is the meaning of it I do not understand. They say I shall have to suffer much as I grow, older. No one will love me because I killed and swallowed my husband; but I never saw him. I do not know who he was. Since I am come to this school all the teachers love me ; they try to make me happy, and they never say unkind words to me or think I am unlucky."
SuNDRi : " Prya, let us hear your history, and I will tell mine."
Prya : " My father knew I would be a widow, but he purposely gave me in marriage."
Prya, Prya, do not say so
All the Girls :
How could he know what would be in the future ? "
ViTTO : " Well, sometimes parents do it for money. Do you know of one girl who was here in the school, and was obliged by her ignorant people to leave? The poor thing was married when she was five years old.
She was given to a man of fifty for a hundred rupees.
Within a year the miserable man died, leaving behind him a widow six years old ! Don't you think her parents must have had sense enough to know that such a small child given to an old man would become a widow ?
54 PANDITA RAMABAI
But they want money, or do it when they are tired of their daughter."
The other girls chimed in with reminiscences of the cruel treatment meted out to this hapless widow of six years by her husband's relatives.
Then Prya said : " You will get thousands of cases like that. My mother died when I was nine months old. When I was two years and six months my father wanted me to be married. He gave me in marriage to a little boy, who died six months afterwards, when I was three. My mother's friend took care of me till I was six; then my father brought me to Bombay. I lived with him four years, cooked for myself, and was very unhappy. My father was a strict Hindu, and did not love me because I was a widow. My mother's uncle put me in this school. My father did not like it, and came to Poona to fetch me out, but was taken ill.
I went to see him. He said he wanted to see my head shaved and disfigured. But he died soon, and I was free."
The poor little mites concluded their conversation by unanimously refusing to consider themselves widows; and rejoicing in the freedom and happiness found at the Sharada Sadan, they ran away to play.
Soon after Ramabai settled her Sharada Sadan at
Poona, she paid a visit to the ancestral home of her family in the Mangalore district, where she was well re-
VISIT TO THE " SHARADA SADAN " ceived by her relatives. On her return to Poona several young widows from the extensive Brahmin community of the former place accompanied her, and became her pupils. The case of one poor ill-used girlwidow at this place had especially attracted Ramabai's attention, and she much desired to rescue her. This girl was used most cruelly by her relatives. She was beaten for the slightest fault. She was also punished by being suspended from the rafters of the roof by her wrists, while a heap of prickly pear-bush was placed underneath to receive her if she should succeed in freeing herself. Another punishment was to shut her in a cook-house with burning chillies (red peppers) on the fire; this produces a most irritating smoke, and, often repeated, injures the eyesight.
This poor girl was a most unhappy creature, feafful and suspicious of everybody. Ramabai tried in vain to gain her confidence, and her relatives treated with contempt the idea of giving her an education. Ramabai's diplomacy then led her to try another plan. She invited the mother-in-law and .one other female member of the family to pay her a visit with this girl. They came, and were courteously established on the compound, and a cookhouse appropriated to their use, their caste principles making separate cooking needful. Ramabai entertains like a princess, and the visitors felt themselves highly honoured. Some weeks passed away, during
56 PANDITA RAMABAI which time Ramabai did all she could to gain the confidence of the unhappy girl, who, how^ever, did not appear to be much more cheerful in spite of her change of surroundings, and the apparent change in the way she was treated. When she did at last open her heart to
Ramabai, it was found that the course of ill-treatment had really never ceased; that these women had contrived to beat the girl daily since their arrival at the
Sharada Sadan, and to frequently lock her in the cookhouse and leave her there for hours. As soon as
Ramabai felt convinced that the victim trusted her, and would stand by her intention to remain, she told the other women that they might leave—a perfectly polite intimation according to Hindu custom. There was some trouble when they found the young widow determined to remain ; but as she was over the age at which they could legally have forced her to return, they had to submit with the best grace they could, especially when they found Ramabai took her part. This young woman has long been a professing Christian, and a useful helper in the Sharada Sadan; but I always think her face bears traces of those years of systematic ill-usage.
Probably the reader will be able to identify the heroine of this story in the picture of " Six Pupils of the Sharada Sadan who have be^^^m'^^ '^h fustians."
CHAPTER V.
SOME OF RAMABAl's PUPILS BECOME CHRISTIANS; OP-
POSITION AND PERSECUTION.
" Blessed are they which do hunger and thirst after righteousness, for they shall be filled." Matt. v. 6.
T is altogether too bad that I should have all the blame on earth, and Ramabai all the reward in heaven," piquantly remarked Soonderbai Powar, when relating some stirring events that occurred at the
Sharada Sadan in the early months of 1893.
" The people are saying it is all because I am living with Ramabai that the girls are becoming Christians, and that I am the cause of all the trouble; but I have been away in England for several months, and on my return find all the girls attending Ramabai's prayermeetings. How could it be my fault ? "
Nevertheless, it was apparent that Soonderbai was rejoiced at these developments, and not so very much inwardly disturbed at the blame meted out to her by the offended Brahmin community.
Since leaving America to begin her life-work in India, spiritual enlargement had come to Ramabai. From time to time, in the early part of the past decade, India
58 PANDITA RAMABAl was visited by earnest Christian evangelists from Britain and America. Such men as Dr. Pentecost, Henry
Varley, John McNeill, and a host of others not so well known, have gone on what are called " cold-weather tours," visiting the large cities, and addressing European audiences, and also natives through an interpreter.
Each of these seemed to have some special message, and most were greatly helpful in re-emphasizing the foundation truths of the Christian faith, leading many out into a truer and deeper Christian experience.
Ramabai always eagerly embraced these opportunities, and, as she learned new lessons, incorporated them into her life and practice. In all these various ministries that helped her, it is but fair to say that Ramabai studied her Bible and made sure there was a " Thus saith the Lord " for all that she accepted. It was her practice then, and still is, to devote the early morning hour, from five to six a. m., to the study of God's Word and prayer. In those days she was usually joined by
Soonderbai, her own little daughter, Manorama, and that section of her pupils whom she called her own family.
In the prosecution of her work, Ramabai was continually meeting with high-caste girls who were not widows, but who were in circumstances of destitution and moral danger. Ramabai's American supporters gave her a generous personal allowance, very little of which